People's dreams are made out of what they do all day. The same way a dog that runs after rabbits will dream of rabbits. It's what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around.
quote by Barbara Kingsolver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Rabbit
Rabbits, rabbits everywhere
Bigger than a rat
Smaller than a hare
Jump, hop in the grass
Eating carrots
Hoping fast
Rabbits, rabbits fluffy fur
Hunting season
They hustle and stir
Pointy ears, bushy tails
Wet nose
Hind legs down the trail
Rabbits, rabbits into holes
Time for bed
Bless their souls
Now all tucked in and put to sleep
No noise in the hole
Not even a peep
poem by TaBresha Bozeman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Vengeance
The Vengeance
There is no war it is all happening on TV, for our
entertainment, I look out of the window and see
no dead bodies, no blood or bombed buildings,
or soldiers prancing about, except Pedro coming
back after hunting rabbits. He hates rabbits since
one chased him and bit his bum, he was twelve
at the time but the indignity made him malicious.
He hunts rabbits in the morning, they hear him
come and hide in burrows, except for the unwise
that think they can make play hide and seek with
him. Pedro is a crack shot and at times bag one,
which is good for us, had he always missed his
hatred may have grown to include us and the war
would move from the TV screen on to our street.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coloured Eggs
Coloued eggs for a culture,
And of he story of a rabbit that laid them!
Oh, this culture is yet to know the truth;
For rabbits do not lay eggs!
Why should they teach the children this way?
And of coloured eggs lay by rabbits;
But this culture cannot change,
For history had made them so.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Judgment pending
The god is too busy to take note of
Your complaints against your sinners.
He still sits on trillions like this:
From grass against rabbits,
From rabbits against fox
From small fish against big fish
Sins were committed here with no
Provocations from the victims though
12.06.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Howlin At The Moon
Words and music by hank williams, sr.
I [c] know theres never been a man in the awful [c7] shape Im [f] in
I cant even [c] spell my name, my [d7] heads in such a [g7] spin
To-[c] day I tried to eat a steak with a big old [c7] table-[f] spoon
You got me chasin rabbits, [c] walkin on my hands
...and [g7] howlin at the [c] moon.
Well, (*sug), I took one look at you and it almost drove me mad
And then I even went and lost what little sense I had
Now I cant tell the day from night, Im crazy as a loon
You got me chasin rabbits, pullin out my hair and howlin at the moon.
Some friends of mine asked me to go out on a huntin spree
cause there aint a hound dog in this state that can hold a light to me
I eat three bones for dinner today, then tried to tree a coon
You got me chasin rabbits, scratchin fleas and howlin at the moon.
I rode my horse to town to day and a gas pump we did pass
I pulled im up and I hollered whoa!, said fill im up with gas
The man picked up a monkey wrench and wham!, he changed my tune
You got me chasin rabbits, spittin out teeth and howlin at the moon.
I never thought in this old world a fool could fall so hard
But honey baby, when I fell the whole world must have jarred
I think Id quit my doggish ways if youd take me for your groom
You got me chasin rabbits, pickin out rings and howlin at the moon
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The buffalo is all gone, and an Indian can't catch enough jack rabbits to subsist himself and his family, and then, there aren't enough jack rabbits to catch. What are they to do?
quote by George Crook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hunter And Dog
The Hunter.
The man who crosses the field carries his shotgun
tucked into his left arm. In his belt five rabbits hang.
This is not a hobby hunter in camouflage outfit,
but a mall time farmer who uses the wildlife to
augment his meager income… his dog that has been
walking at heel runs in front of him, barks, and up
from the tall, dry grass a rabbit springs a shot and
now he has six rabbits hanging from his belt….
He will sell his catch later at a hotel or restaurant.
The man who crossed field, his face is naturally dark,
by years spent outdoors, walks into a landscape of
trees and bushes and disappears from view.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Random Thoughts
In the hot summer morning light,
I stood looking from a great height.
And to my right there was a pack,
Of dogs, barking for a snack.
And on the road to Naukuchiatal,
There lay a dead man.
But I guess I was mistaken,
For he woke up and smiled.
What is death I wondered?
Pain, sadness, oblivion?
Or
Relief, bliss, happiness?
In a clearing nearby,
There were some rabbits snowy white.
He neared and made a noise,
Thinking they might like.
But ran away the rabbits shy,
Thinking any moment they might die.
What is life I wondered?
Prejudice, inequality, discrimination?
Or
Fame, power, pleasure?
Thoughts keep coming and going,
And so do people.
But each has in mind what he's supposed to do.
Obstacles come and go,
Never fear them for you can find a way out.
It is true, any time now we might die,
And yet, anytime now we might perceive a moment of joy.
poem by Anushna Satapathy
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Puppy And I
I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
'Where are you going to, Man?' I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
'Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
'Where are you going to, Horse, today?'
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
'Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
'Where are you going to, Woman, so early?'
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
'Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
'Where are you going in your brown fur coats?'
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
'Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
'Where are you going this nice fine day?'
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
'Up to the hills to roll and play.'
'I'll come with you, Puppy,' said I.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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A Walk in the Country
I walked by the river
Where it is usually so quiet and peaceful.
Crazy kids on motorbikes sounded
Like trapped bluebottles in a summer kitchen,
But the January light was still beautiful.
Jackdaws wheeled above with their sharp cries
And there were dead rabbits among the puddles,
Victims of weasels or foxes or who knows what.
Suddenly a jet-fighter ripped the sky open with a loud scream.
A gun went off, some enthusiast shooting
At the jackdaws or rabbits.
Then silence again.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Funk Pop A Roll
Funk pop a roll beats up my soul
Oozing like napalm from the speakers and grill
Of your radio
Into the mouths of babes
And across the backs of its willing slaves
Funk pop a roll consumes you whole
Gulping in your opium so copiously from a disco
Everything you eat is waste
But swallowing is easy when it has no taste
They can fix you rabbits up
With your musical feed
They can fix you rabbits up
Big money selling you stuff that you do not need
Funk pop a roll for fish in shoals
Music by the yard for the children they keep
Like poseable dolls
The young to them are mistakes
Who only want bread but theyre force-fed cake
Funk pop a roll the only goal
The music business is a hammer to keep
You pegs in your holes
But please dont listen to me
Ive already been poisoned by this industry!
Funk pop a roll beats up my soul
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Funk Pop A Roll
Funk pop a roll beats up my soul
Oozing like napalm from the speakers and grill
Of your radio
Into the mouths of babes
And across the backs of its willing slaves
Funk pop a roll consumes you whole
Gulping in your opium so copiously from a disco
Everything you eat is waste
But swallowing is easy when it has no taste
They can fix you rabbits up
With your musical feed
They can fix you rabbits up
Big money selling you stuff that you do not need
Funk pop a roll for fish in shoals
Music by the yard for the children they keep
Like poseable dolls
The young to them are mistakes
Who only want bread but theyre force-fed cake
Funk pop a roll the only goal
The music business is a hammer to keep
You pegs in your holes
But please dont listen to me
Ive already been poisoned by this industry!
Funk pop a roll beats up my soul
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Springtime
The red eyes of rabbits
aren't sad. No one passes
the sad golden village in a barge
any more. The sunset
will leave it alone. If the
curtains hang askew
it is no one's fault.
Around and around and around
everywhere the same sound
of wheels going, and things
growing older, growing
silent. If the dogs
bark to each other
all night, and their eyes
flash red, that's
nobody's business. They have
a great space of dark to
bark across. The rabbits
will bare their teeth at
the spring moon.
poem by Denise Levertov
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My Last Dream
If you look,
you still can
find empty
Summer meadows….
where paths
and roads
are made
of grass….
there, early
Rabbits run
wild through
pink eyed
flowers….
and the Sun
sprinkles mornings
with dew-
dripping showers.
But later as
the late sun runs….
you sleep,
as
candy floss
blossoms
drift down
to colour
the black
picnic cloth.
And now...
you are gone.
Just an Idle Poem
A cargo plane, loaded with white rabbits, got lost in a heavenly
storm and landed on the moon, the pilot declared himself king.
The second pilot would have none of it, slew the pilot, declared
a republic, with him as president, and freed the rabbits.
When all the little bottles of booze planes carry for hospitality,
were empty the president got depressed and threw himself;
off the moon, was sucked up into a black hole and woke up on
the Australian outback and got a job a camel rider with an all
consuming hatred for airline pilots. The moon rabbits, however,
thrived lived on nourishing dust and moon dew. But slowly they
changed appearance and became moonbeams that lit up parks
summer nights and make lovers swoon. A cynic may say they
became inconsequent spectres, useless as a poem written for
pleasure and lacking in moral judiciousness.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Retiring Early
A man who did retire early
each night, and was a rather burly
well-fed and stocky specimen,
would always have lights out at ten.
One evening, it was in May,
the month when younger folk will play,
he somehow failed, did not remember
woke up next day, it was November.
This shows the act of breaking habits
should really be left to rabbits.
You see, a rabbit either sleeps
or checks the basement, where it keeps
digested pellets for re-use,
but rabbits always (is this news?)
are in the mood to....well, to hop,
they'll do this easily, non-stop.
So, if a rabbit oversleeps,
he's done his homework, heaps and heaps,
it matters little, but for man
he's got to do it while he can.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Vedanta
VEDANTA
We don’t know
From where &
On what conditions
Our Master brought a
Blood thirsty Tiger
To our land &
Said-
Come Dear!
Welcome to my soil
And prey on
All the Deers, Rabbits, Men & Asses…
In gay abandon
The Tiger leapt into our land
And started devouring one by one
Our Deers, Rabbits, Men & Assess…
In one breath
And finished all
In some days.
Now,
No one remains alive in our land
Except, the hungry Tiger &
Master of ours.
poem by Debendra Lal
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A great many people now reading and writing would be better employed keeping rabbits.
quote by Edith Sitwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Terror
As the days grow shorter and nights longer,
the rabbits change color and the foxes change too...
While trappers grow excited,
to go out and get a few.
This is because the change of color,
and the money for pelts...
Some make the fur and skin into,
fancy leather belts.
During winter rabbits and foxes,
need to run and hide...
If they were caught,
you'd bet they died.
Family
Family can be difficult,
sometimes even hard...
Either way you always get,
a birthday card.
You may disagree,
wtih Mom or Dad...
Then you might remember,
all the good times you've had.
You'll start to cry,
and then they say...
'A family we are,
a family we'll stay.'
poem by Cally A. Nixon
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Regret
i do not know much about turtles
but i like to know one
they say turtles are not really slow
they are just gentle
and cool
as they live more in the water
rather than
on land
i have regrets though
not having known
that turtles
just want to be slow
and be not rushed
like
they are forced to be what they are not
by this rabbit
but there's one thing though that hurts
when turtles claim the value
of rationality
as though it is the only ingredient of a good
personality
i like to say, i like emotions too
turtles and rabbits that feel and tell the world
not to hurt each other anymore
but just be themselves
and be free and
be loved
and be appreciated
for what they are
unique
and long for a clique
i still think that this world is as beautiful as me
as you
as we together
writing poems and have fun
wading on the pond and basking in the sun
come, come, let us join our hands
rabbits and turtles on strong bonds
smile!
(see we have this picture now)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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