"slic" poems - Hello Poetry

Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swiftewd greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo', Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nurs'd with tender care, And to domestic bounds confin'd, Was still a wild Jack-hare. Though duly from my hand he took His pittance ev'ry night, He did it with a jealous look, And, when he could, would bite. His diet was of wheaten bread, And milk, and oats, and straw, Thistles, or lettuces instead, With sand to scour his maw. On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd, On pippins' russet peel; And, when his juicy salads fail'd, Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well. A Turkey carpet was his lawn, Whereon he lov'd to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn, And swing his **** around. His frisking wa at evening hours, For then he lost his fear; But most before approaching show'rs, Or when a storm drew near. Eight years and five round rolling moons He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And ev'ry night at play. I kept him for his humour's sake, For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache, And force me to a smile. But now, beneath this walnut-shade He finds his long, last home, And waits inn snug concealment laid, 'Till gentler **** shall come. He, still more aged, feels the shocks From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box, Must soon partake his grave.

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2.3k

William Cowper

Epitaph on a Hare

Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swiftewd greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo', Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nurs'd with tender care, And to domestic bounds confin'd, Was still a wild Jack-hare. Though duly from my hand he took His pittance ev'ry night, He did it with a jealous look, And, when he could, would bite. His diet was of wheaten bread, And milk, and oats, and straw, Thistles, or lettuces instead, With sand to scour his maw. On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd, On pippins' russet peel; And, when his juicy salads fail'd, Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well. A Turkey carpet was his lawn, Whereon he lov'd to bound, To skip and gambol like a fawn, And swing his **** around. His frisking wa at evening hours, For then he lost his fear; But most before approaching show'rs, Or when a storm drew near. Eight years and five round rolling moons He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And ev'ry night at play. I kept him for his humour's sake, For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache, And force me to a smile. But now, beneath this walnut-shade He finds his long, last home, And waits inn snug concealment laid, 'Till gentler **** shall come. He, still more aged, feels the shocks From which no care can save, And, partner once of Tiney's box, Must soon partake his grave.

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caught up in a sa of altrd imags alcohol flowing rd pupils from all th slfis **** scroll up /// scroll down m8 u waz wastd vryon at ach othr voics scrambl;ing for pol position #popularity laddr a flck of jalousy slic of malic *fyi grn lights signal sombody cars rite?? hr bgins th dz-dss- the dscnt into pixls primary colours 'oMG xx' night grows old plot unravls lik a ball of string coagulats thick and bad let fingrs do the talkin' 4 u nams bcom strangrs bcom nams bcom strangrs TTYL :)

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Jan 29, 2015

Jan 29, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC

reece-aj-chambers

****

caught up in a sa of altrd imags alcohol flowing rd pupils from all th slfis **** scroll up /// scroll down m8 u waz wastd vryon at ach othr voics scrambl;ing for pol position #popularity laddr a flck of jalousy slic of malic *fyi grn lights signal sombody cars rite?? hr bgins th dz-dss- the dscnt into pixls primary colours 'oMG xx' night grows old plot unravls lik a ball of string coagulats thick and bad let fingrs do the talkin' 4 u nams bcom strangrs bcom nams bcom strangrs TTYL :)

28

amber tinted sun falls through the slic es of green piled on wet earth little loud screaming birds fly over the valley fits of emotion tumbling dashing around inside their little scrreaaming heads. lying in wait for her victim long blonde dead;y she sings happily high pitch hiding her t.r.u.e. feelings

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Sep 2, 2015

Sep 2, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC

lightbulb

valley of emotions

amber tinted sun falls through the slic es of green piled on wet earth little loud screaming birds fly over the valley fits of emotion tumbling dashing around inside their little scrreaaming heads. lying in wait for her victim long blonde dead;y she sings happily high pitch hiding her t.r.u.e. feelings

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