Best Ewe Poems
Early in the mourning she rose
She wood fined her boat
Wear she rose across the see two the sure
Their she mustard all her mite
And toad the boat on the beech
Butt if the thyme was write she tide it two a boy
She could hardly weight
Four she nose she will sea her suite sun
They wood sit on a bolder, brake sum bred
Then they eight a hole pair
Her sun called her a deer
He tolled her when he urns enough doe
Ore got sum tacks witch was dew
He wood by her a flour at the bizarre
Witch could be tide in her hare
The cent of the rows wood bee sew sheikh
One knight he said she wood prophet
If she past buy a different root
He new the currant could get ruff
The whether was no longer fare and getting two chilli
She road away into the missed
Aisle meat ewe next weak he balled until he was horse
He trussed he wood see her next weak
Only Homo’s ‘Aloud’ – Jerry T Curtis
23rd March 2015
~awarded 1st place
Best of friends
Are me and ewe,
Ain't no ends...
For us two...
Spent all the day
One day a year,
Running away
From our shear
Not with our kin
And not in the barn,
Not soon to be in
Grandma's yarn
Lucky is the cow
The heifer, the bull,
The piglet and sow
Never lose their wool
We're getting lost
Nowhere to be seen,
Licking the frost
In a meadow green
Feeling so free to
Frolic with the bees,
Where long grasses grew
Nearly up to our knees
Love to sniff each
Dandelion and daisy,
Temptation in reach
Drives us both crazy
Had eaten our fill
Before the bumbles,
Rolled on a hill
Taking tumbles
Me and my buddy
Finding trouble,
And getting muddy
In a pile of rubble
Fleece, white as snow
Not telling Mother,
All that we know
About one another
Of the springtimes
The unicorn, the fairy,
The nursery rhymes
About us and Mary
Best of friends
Are me and ewe,
Ain't no ends...
For us two...
Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe wuz vary ahful tah mi,
God’s chile. Eye didden doyah nuttin.
’
Yah ‘sposed, tah bee ah liter rite?
Butt ya playin’ roun wit da won,
Whooz comin’ bak leyek ah,
Theef en dah nite.
Win yah ain’t treet mi rite,
Yah naglect’d dah powah uv God.
Cuz onlee wit Him ah wuz,
Ovalookin’ wat ewe wuz doin’,
Ta mi fah da harvest ,
Of God’s chirren bein’ edumacated,
Mi yah outrite hated.
Butt dats awrite God-n-eye,
Gon’ win dis feyght.
Ah wheel hav’ victuree cuz ah,
Choze ta spread luv butt ewe,
Choze ta spread mizuhree.
Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe ramyned mi uv ol’Pharoah,
Hoo woodn’t lett God’s pipahs goh.
Ah didden wanna fase yah awl dose
Otha daze.
Butt God help’d mi leyek God help’d,
Moses speek up tah ol’Pharoah.
God tole Moses tah lett mah pipahs goh.
God telling mi ta tale yah phake Pharoah
Tah lett mi chirren’s goh.
Ah noh ah hatta bee roun ewe sum moh.
Butt itell bee worfwile,
Cuz God wantz freedom,
Fah ebbery chile.
Yah hut mi fah alil wile,
Butt we’ll bee at da prahmased lan’,
An out uv yah Egypt.
Cuz fah awl uv uz ta prospa,
Iz God’s plan.
Ansoon we won’ be roun ewe no moh.
Wheel nat laugh leyek yah didaht mi.
Win trajudee nocks aht yah doh.
Wheel helpyah cuz God,
Wantz uz awl tah bee free.
Frum dah phake phone’ powah,
Uv da enumee.
wrote 6-27-10
Upon the hills, dry brush prevails,
Thriving still on winter rains, summer's tale.
Soon, the sun's embrace will come,
Kindling fears of an inferno, a fiery drum.
To mow this meadow, what's the best play?
A herd of goats and sheep, grazing all day,
Heavy machinery falters on the steep hillside,
But sheep and goats revel, clearing the weed far and wide.
As the day wanes, the shepherd must truck,
His flock homeward bound, no time to luck.
Counted them all, or so he thought,
Yet, a darling ewe, Valentine's joy she sought.
Atop the hill, love's sweet rendezvous,
The shepherd found her, enjoying the view.
cerebral
scrabble babble
is coughed
into
empty couloirs
words lie
disassembled
on jaded
crossword
squares
dumb logic
acronyms
spill
from your tongue
with the intensity
of angel falls
flooding
the tower
of babel s
non existent
dungeon
taut and terse
phrases
are spit
into my mouth
clogging
my esophagus
with the
sweet bile
of your
bitter love
for me
twisted explanations
mixing
with fragments
of admitted guilt
speak
in reverse
similar
to the
uncanny
way
we uttered
our final
wedding vows
do i
poke a spoon
into a puddle
of campbell s
alphabet soup
as I peruse
my leather bound
thesaurus and
nightmarishly
daydream
of you
and now
i m
beginning
to realize
that the
sole existence
of one s
warped sense
of commitment
fortunately
relies
on a duo s
consistent
use
of insensitive
verbal
cryptograms
during the
sharp and
neatly shredded
paper years
when
punctuation
and falsified
adjectives
were hardly
ever
necessary
you love i
Author's Note:
Punctuation marks and capitalization of words
were deliberately omitted for poetic effect.
This is my Homophone contest submission
Ewe No A Lyre
their once was a man with a bore
who worked down at the local bizarre
the bore eight corn colonels four lunch
and blew genes whir awl the man war
owe the bore eight serial two
from a plait unlike me oar ewe
we wood knead a bowl and a spoon
ore a mop wood bee totally due
won fine weak day mourn wile working
he brood tee four the men who maid toys
making tee and giving assistants
was that witch maid the mane men
his buoys
his gnu fame was nice
and it urned hymn
a day too lien back and relax
sow he went strait too his sweet
and wile still on his feat
he eight mince, mustered, pees and bare meet
at work he aloud his ant two chute bawl
butt four know obvious reason at awl
she through bred and plumb pi at
the goal
he chaste her aweigh
butt owe my he felt sow bad
sew he cent her to scents and a flour
and aloud her two come back inn an our
the gilt she felt
brought her pane
four she new she ode hymn sew much
she gathered her teem just inn thyme
two sing thank ewe sow very much.
win he herd the whey
they whir singing
it brought a tier too his I
he ran too the gait
two waive wildly
wile screaming a hi pitched buy by.
by Rochelle Harris
When you're a sheep and feel unwell, it's also often true
When dipped into your medicine, you come up feeling blue
Blue from your woolly noggin-lid, down to your woolly socks
And inside from your woolly brain, down to your woolly hocks
So when you are a poorly sheep, and feel in poorly form
You're gonna feel off-colour, 'cos off-colour is the norm
And both insides and outsides are tinged with shades of blue
There's only one thing left to say, and that will be, "Poor Ewe!"
Have you ever seen a lamb
With it's beautiful eyes
Curly hair standing small
The color of purest white
On a visit to a barn
I saw this beautiful thing
Standing still ready to run
Looking straight at me
I was struck with adoration
I had never had before
I saw what God had seen
When he his son adored
That lamb became the metaphor
To describe Gods feeling for him
An instantanious reckoning
For something that could not sin
When I think of Mary
The ewe that brought him forth
In charge of the care for him
With love that comes from birth
I think of how simple it was
To love without command
To take what was writen in her heart
And do it with her hands
Not much was said of Mary
But she was always there
The joy and burden she carried
For her little lamb
Blessed are you among women
You that give him birth
Taking care of things charged to him
Letting true love come forth
Do you know the love writen
On most all mothers hearts
Have you ever been smitten
By nature and its art
How comparable is the love
Of the ewe and her lamb
To the love that you have
For the love you have for Gods lamb
Villanelle: French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Dedicated to the great French actor, Off Course!
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Must you invite high breeds to the Hebrides
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Starved Loch Ness Monster kept well out of view
For this Gourmet eats even monster breeds
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Medieval monarchs gulped innerns – rest threw
To the serfs lords ladies dogs and hybrids
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
French Gourmand let Scots talk their tartans through
Venison loins he carved out for his needs
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
Goths Visigoths Vikings Normans or Dieu*
Falstaff nose and paunch hide much actor’s deeds
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
Eiffel Tower Louvre Versailles nothing new
Mountain Man kept apart Scylla Charibdis
French Gourmand once sailed to the Isle of Ewe
To maggis shellfish wine said: I love you!
• Dieu: God, but French pronunciation, please!
He might take exception.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Repaper the walls of the loo
Bob got messy, covered in glue
Such sagas to be had
So Bob rang up his dad
But Dad’s busy lambing a ewe
His dad said, “I’ll visit you later”
As Madam ewe, I must sedate her
In my racecar I’ll call
Help repaper your wall
By noon the ewe will be a mater
love ewe and blue
aer rhyming words true
there is always inflection and poor attitude
limits of knowledge above snobbish refrains
trains run on time only in the movies
movies run on time only in a small town
there is very few movies shown on trains
blue can be an attitude blue can be a heart
love you can be used to start a heart apart from you
as you watch the blue southern train depart
from the blue stunted depot with the board walk floor
the little blue conductor yelling all aboard her
as the train takes the love and makes your attitude blue
soup mix tastes so wordy so blue so true and good
with a doubly heaping helping of a love ewe attitude
At the county fair when the time keeper went toot.
Little Natan riding a ewe bolted out of the shoot
Keeping his weight level was quite a fight
Mom and dad watched as he hung on with
all his might. Many couldn’t have done what he did.
Eight seconds is good stats for a five year old kid
He knew he had a reder rump.
When the rope fell through the terret, off of
The ewe he did jump
He said without a selles you shouldn’t ride
Don’t be a kook and hurt your backend hide.
This boy is an amazing tot.
He’s looking for a new gig that’s hot
Riding down a river on a kayak
might be fun. A racecar
Might do, but never another ewe!
5/12/2018
toot, Natan, ewe, level, mom, dad, did, stats, reder, terret, selles, kook, tot, gig, kayak, racecar
A military wife may screw
Each man on her husband's work crew
A Service wife
Repels all strife
Because she is One of The Few
This was a time when humans were new,
before stress in our lives, caused us to brew.
When survival meant eating dino doo doo and
grunting was the language everyone knew.
As time went by, certain gestures arose,
like to push or kick or to club ones foes.
Then one day, a strange man had appeared,
he had this defect that everyone feared.
Most of his features were normal you see,
but his two middle fingers, grew like a tree!
The words he could speak were so very few,
yet he blurted some garble, my name EPH EWE!
He’d use these fingers to knock others down,
make them feel hurt and give them a frown.
He could make someone sad, others got mad,
for his fingers were weapons like nobody had.
He would fling them about and proudly exclaim,
EPH EWE! He would grunt, continuing his reign.
To this day his name is a worldwide phrase,
as the gesture of fingers became a big craze.
Most get offended when receiving this sign,
but don’t hesitate to use it… if so inclined.
So if ever you wish to make someone frown,
make them feel bad or just put them down,
just whip out the fingers and call out his name,
for EPH EWE, is the symbol, that keeps us all sane!
Ewe gives birth to lambs
Raw beauty as life unfolds –
Beast to man food chain
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry Soup Featured Poem: July 4 2021