Best Bleats Poems

And I begin my own steep climb into 
The Chalkland Downs              ...

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THE POET’S PANEGYRIC

“There’s someone I knew with talent unleashed
and a heart that had for so many relentlessly reached
This poet sought inspiration from the living and...

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The year is grey and cold,
And we bid the winter go;
So all the dark and weary world,
Will be purged of blowing snow.

Tomorrow cry the branches,
From...

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Aye and ’tis a bonnie glen

And for us the Laird’s enclave

Dinna fush the soldiers’ menace

‘Tis this moment that He gave.

And we gaither ‘neath the stars

And...

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amid the bleats of lambs
and the moo of cows 
in a far away manger
a baby, swaddled in rags was born
     
though...

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The day Democracy died,
I was a little lad, yea, knee high

Papa turned on the telly
to watch the White House news
Curious to hear if the 
whether...

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The lion roars 
			while the lamb bleats.
He paces and prowls,
	savoring the kill.

I would like to roar. 
	I hate this bleating.
I want to see them 
	quaking...

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The Weird Guy


Aprils wet day has rained
Since sunrise
Mid-day
In a friendly café
The patter of skies falling water
Lost in the strangers chit chat

Un-listened to music
Bleats
But peaceful and...

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Wake up, Wake up
  You who slumber and sleep
    Wake up
    Return whence you came

  Jarring, dissonant
...

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I saw God 
Over a shattered mirror
Fragments of my mind 
Echoes of spoken promises

I saw God again
In the depths of the pool
Crystal clear,ocean blue
Bubbles of...

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The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word

(of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;

they roost aloof on...

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The mirtangist may never willingly hear
may not want to hear
the multaiyam announcing his cue
nor the melodist aware of the flautist's right
to the change in the...

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The morning has started with a trace of a dew
An ascent through the tussock ignites the new day
Trailing huntaways eager to work on the ewes
Awaited...

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Blood, divine and sweet,
Swigging on vampiric tastes,
Victims, screams and bleats....

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We aborted the Christ a long time ago
What with the successive thousands of gentle fetuses strangled.
Stop stop! Why lament? Let not the wind be rankled
By...

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