The Rabbit


After a Kindred Spirit of “Forgotten Lore”


Once upon a midday gleaming, as the sun perched, eager-seeming,
O’er my lonely homestead’s weedy
patches of forgotten sod,
Whilst I sighed, wondrous with gloom, the murk did so severely loom,
As on the earth’s untidy flora
a small, grayish rabbit gnawed.

“’Tis a visitor!” I exclaimed, “which must have traveled from abroad!”
I quivered, keen with interest,
though ‘twas not expressly odd…
Well, distinctly I don’t recall––was it spring?  Or maybe fall?––
For the crude terrain about me
lacked in features to enthrall.

Yet my senses stirred anew (for once, a feeling wriggled through)!
And my fears were all laid bare,
each a stain upon my wall!
‘Twas but a moment’s peace I’d sought, but remorse was now my lot,
Isolated in this refuge
so unwittingly I’d wrought…

And the rabbit, on grasses chewing––my soul eschewing––was my undoing––,
As vain attempts at wooing it hither
were more pitiful than not.
So, still, I sit here, stewing, my years accruing (they keep accruing),
While with each new day ensuing,
the sun pierces ever through:

With this craving, quite unnerving, I remain yet undeserving
Of even one, small, savory serving
of Hasenpfeffer stew…
Whether doe or buck, I’m sure, my friend will never reach my door.
Though I with doleful tears implore (writhing, prostrate, on the floor),
I shall hunger, evermore!

4 thoughts on “The Rabbit

    • Your words honor me. I wasn’t expecting the rabbit would ever poke a stick at the carrot… Lol! You’re right. Fictional parody is a paltry disguise for a real heart’s tale of woe…

      Thanks for visiting my blog! I will definitely be returning the favor! 🐇


  1. The picture caught my eye first. Who is the artist? The first sentence got me laughing. Once upon a midday gleaming, as the sun perched, eager-seeming, Nice rhymes. Oh, no! tell me that there will not be rabbit stew. this is interesting… each a stain upon my wall! Lot of words match the picture, I see. lIKE A PUZZLE. Delightful touch word weaver. You got your own signature. I know no one who is so versatile ad imaginative with words like these. I could tell the author, no doubt, unique signature. Now, what stains are those on the bulkheads?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for the doubloons, my friend! This poem was inspired by one of my all-time favorites, The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe. Take a gander, if you haven’t done so already–you’ll be glad you did! I don’t know that my little parody really does it justice, but it was fun to try.

      Oh, and the artwork is mine (you can just make out my signature at the bottom right corner)… I actually have a good number of art pieces that I created in response to my poems (which is the opposite of how it usually goes, I think).

      Thanks, again! It’s always great to hear from you, Rickey!


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