Best Herders Poems
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
O river of rivers,
The queen river,
Flow as you wish,
Gather silt forever
That on your shores
Men may harrow, then sow
The seeds of happiness
And sorrow to grow.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
O river of rivers,
The starry river,
Your blinking waves drum
Of Behula's shiver.
I too am lost,
The tattered merchant fool,
My peacock barge rides
Fate's whirlpool.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend,
O river of rivers,
The wise river.
Who would speak for us?
If not you, may be never.
Yet the mountains rise
From the hearths' ash,
You are silent, while
The history is brash.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
O river of rivers,
The hungry river,
The consort of Ruin.
An arrow in Falguni's quiver.
The infinite wasteland beckons
Hold onto heart's dream,
One more sun above
Anguish and scream.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Form: Bhatiali
Date: 19 / 11 / 2016
Bhatiali is a form of folk music native to Bangladesh and Bengal. There is no place for Taal (a term used in Indian classical music for the rhythmic pattern) in pure bhatiali. Even rhyme is not that important. Generally, these songs are sung by the cattle herders on the fields or the fisherfolks living off a river. Among the several subjects of folk music in all of Bengal, that includes Deha-tatva (about the body) and Murshid-tatva (about the guru), Bhatiali deals with Prakriti-tatva (about nature). Probably the most renowned poet of this form is Jasimuddin. Some of Rabindranath Tagore's songs can also be categorised as typical bhatiali.
Categories:
herders, allegory, beauty, fishing, mythology,
Form:
Pastoral
A sliver of October moon
sinks slow into the western night
and the life of a billion stars
begin to fade beyond my sight
The black curtain of night dissolves
as colors flare the eastern sky
The glorious hues of morning
proudly herald a new sunrise
Heaven's light spreads o'er the valley
telling all the world to arise
Bright autumn leaves upon the trees
mimic the grandeur of the sky
Sunflowers turn their golden heads
to the promise of what's to come
A melody from wings on high
sing a joyous praise to the sun
I get a little misty eyed
as other cowboy start to come
Can't help but feel a little sad
that this night-herders job is done
Categories:
herders, poems, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
From Noonlight to Moonlight
I'll chance to mention a jaunt once took, along a sloping ridge; coming up steady o'er jakes ravine, cross the creaking pinewood bridge, tethering up the hosses, to a half charred lightening stricken tree; we gazed right down the 'scarpment at cattle roaming free after muffling up our riding boots in swathes of Hessian brown; stooping right over we made our way, by the darker shadowed ground, we got to to a stand of trees, that offered the needed hide; scuttling there as quick as quick, until we were inside made sure no herders were present, heard no sounds borne on the breeze; we picked out a couple of young heifers, this side of some bouldered scree then raising our crossbows silently, as moonglow licked each bolt; we loosed ..Whoosk.! the thuds)) sounded so strong you almost felt the jolt.: did i see a gleam in Mikkies eye?? could it be a heartfelt tear?? I said we had no real choice you know, my voice edged with tension & fear, a quick smile shot right back at me, as gazing deep in my eyes; she gave a hard kick into my shin, catching me by surprise!! saying now while I' affix the lariats Joe, you vamoose up the mountainside; get the horses and drags back soon, in case the rancher makes a ride, so I lit out for the ridge crest, my heart was beating wild." While swearing that damn hussey's more capricious than a wayward child; once on the ridge i scramble down, back to the waiting steeds quickly pulling the halters loose, my mind intent on speed!! soon I'm back with Mikkie, we pull the heifers onto the drags; then we're coaxing our horses up that draw!! headed for the safety of our own distant and shadowy crags. copyright Joe Maverick.co.uk
Categories:
herders, cowboy-western,
Form:
Rhyme
An Ode To William
Blake
----------------------------------
He when Painted,
Printed or Wrote,
His face always wore
a grave grin.
THAT Soft in heart
and hand,
The sculptor, stones
had ever seen;
Sitting by the lonely-
lake’s shore
Portrayed the
playing cherubs.
For me his shop
would have been,
For Pope, Dryden’s
coffee
shop.
Loved who little-
boys, herders and
sheep,
And praised country
and for lambs prayed.
An artist lived there
unknown,
Unnoticed, ahead of
his time.
(contd...)
Categories:
herders, art,
Form:
Ode
I could grow roses, and collect their nectar,
For newly wedded pairs’ perfume.
Or lilies, the Persian young lovers would secretly present their bashful beloveds.
Or could process the early-ripening fallen apple,
Foreigners would slowly have
Seeing the fiery sun
Setting into the gloomy sea;
On the sandy strand bask alongside naked
In the blazing summers’ afternoons,
Kissing French, playing with the watery-sand—
Barefoot.
Or could have fed the fowl
In high fenced Open-farms;
Fed them corn fed them wheat,
Allowed them take long flights
And watched them with love, dust bath.
Watched them dozing on trees’ branches
In the summers’ tiresome mid days
And, loved the old-cock’s crowing in the dawn
As his prayer to God.
So, bred to tens of thousands
And sold their big brown eggs, at good price.
And Ah! Cried loud, the old ailing hens would die.
Or reared goats and sheep in the nearby forest’s meads
And in the summers’ full-moon nights
Visit my large flock,
The grasslands across the sandy mount, stony crag.
Oh! The old shepherd’s ancient-Arabian tale,
Sitting by the flaming fire near their tent’s door,
His busty wife’s baking breads,
Watched by the lips-licking dog
Sitting on his legs.
I would though not
See the auction of my grown bucks,
My herders rather would, in my absence.
And like that English nobleman,
Formerly was a poor boy
And reared sheep;
In his palace had a hall,
He visited the crooks and robes
Whenever! Felt by mistake proud.
I could have lived like the tradesmen
Live, the real luxurious life,
Poets, painters and teachers
Can, only imagine of!
But the True Lovers Ah! Ah!
Live an adventurous life, heroic!
Work harder,
Wait long gloomy nights, travel sandy sunny miles
And then, earn a fear-fraught, fleeting, strange moment-of-joy!
So, I chose to be a lover…
And gratefully! I live a busier life;
More demanding
Than the businessmen or tradesmen or any statesman
Shall claim.
Categories:
herders,
Form:
Free verse
See someday! Without a sound,
In the calm midday of midsummer,
That hard by clump of woody willows.
Standing, lay your soft shoulder with one’s meek bark,
Under and amidst the bending branches
So clement and lingering.
Civilly! Eavesdrop the brown sparrows talking in soft shade;
Look at there, the animals, feeding in the pebbles-pasture;
Visit, the humble herders, their tall goats, their big-headed dog;
Hear, the roaring of that rocky creek, the din of that bouncing brook;
Smile at the low lying cloud, stare long those cedar- woods:
Of mine ear, of mine eye,
For me, for me, for me, O friend!
Categories:
herders, nature, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
A belt of blue cheese at the feet
Makes the mountain beyond Bachuma gate
Glow in that mysterious hues that all distant
Mountains carry upon their crooked humps
A wall behind which the Mombasa sun sheepishly hides
Until the herders of the low lands suffocate it with dust
From a thousand pairs of hooves, then it rises up the mountain
That splits a people into two Counties, a farmer and a nomad
The watchtower of our fore fathers
Against animal and fellow man
That mountain saved lives
And became a shrine
For the exaltation of HE who curved it
From raw matter, embellished with caves
That invites humanity from E and W to drop jaws
A fair day will beckon from this mountain
With orange smile of a sun eager to ascend into sky
A dreary one will keep you waiting, encumbered
By a shroud of fog, that smoky mesh that covered
Burnt sacrifices in the golden days, yet a day
Of profound beauty, as colourful as a people tending a field of crops
Watered by the mountain spring, will emerge
The mountain of peace, for the elders swear by it
While mending feuds, Will remain forever
Its work among the creatures of earth undone
Interminable strife betw’n man and beast
Getting louder by day in the corridors of Tsavo Park
May the stony humps echo the survival anthem
Before the giggle and belch of hyenas drown it
Herders of low lands, for a century, scrutinize the mountain’s shadow
To stay off hoof breaking haste driving their speckled animals to rest
That mountain will be standing there tomorrow
Waiting for the sun and rain
It will hear man sobbing
It will listen to birds singing
The hyena will growl
It will not hear
Categories:
herders, community, fairy, faith, farm,
Form:
Free verse
Temptation, leaky parts
The erratic behavior of
Industrial, copper hearts
Kept in the dark , despairing,
The dysfunctional silence
pumps through the grid,
Anonymous, incomplete
Too vast to forbid and
Ambiguous too. Herders,
Hurricane force baiters
Consolidate the prize,
Surround it with walls,
Aggregation, spiritual
Splinters burned for heat
and the wrapped nutrition
consumed under close
medical supervision,
embalmment, drip by drip
boredom, idle playrooms,
innovations, round trip
exploitations, the outer
wall get steeper and
against our good nature,
I’ll be jumping soon.
Categories:
herders, corruption,
Form:
Verse
Where in vast meadows, herders site and rear hairy goats
In valley’s highs, hitherto the machines couldn't make.
Where water falls high, buffaloes graze and free horses run.
Where apart of the urban din cedars play the soothing music
And the summers-birds sing in joy.
Where a shallow stream rushes under chinars’ shade
And the morning-sun’s rays play with the pebbles at her bed.
Where in a village following the forests, the lovers gossip in moon light.
Where on a summer’s midday, sheep champ in shade and the shepherd is long asleep.
Or where along a calm creek, sparrows live on an old-willows’ clump,
There, my Lord of Love! Let I, Thee and She celebrate.
Categories:
herders, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Doc Holliday truly amazing
Sick to death and two six guns blazing
Though his blasting appeared not to be phasing
The calmness of his gelding equine’s grazing
This be the glory, how the west was won
By house of ill repute, and the six gun
Plenty of action, was never boring
Funeral parlors, were businesses soaring
Stank of many bodies in pine boxes
All human life was generalized poxy
In the west, principle way of the law
Generally how fast every man could draw
These early days were quite chaotic
Wyatt Earp’s moves were a bit methodic
The saloons were filled with poker tables
And many big bosoms of dance hall mabels
Indians drank of white man’s fire waters
Sheep herders were known as only free squatters
The winning of the west, was quite a quest
Reservations put Indians to the test
America has it’s many stories
How our west was won by many glories
So greatly was the west romanticized
We wonder how much was only lies
Well documentation of westward truths
Or documentation of many human spoofs
Maybe fraudulent claims, as was the hog leg’s aim
We accept no blame, but we’ll take the fame
Placed # 15
Categories:
herders, fantasy
Form:
Rhyme
SUMMER NIGHT IN THE NAIROBI BEER GARDEN
goats crop blooms
tall herders nonchalant
nip an ale
sun drops low
crickets are counting drinks
last call squeak
Categories:
herders, seasons,
Form:
Haiku
Electron herders,
that's us. It began
earnestly late 20th century.
The first organic computers
using polymerase and qubits
came later. Weaponry
via numbers, words
magically appearing,
telepathy. Measurements
in which the last significant digit
is the Other. However
immediately depleted
our resources were,
antibiotics were always at the ready.
Forgetting what we knew,
reverting to austerity
because in times of prosperity
we forgot to be austere.
It's the uncertainty principle
taken to the nth degree
where the bad god resides,
Zeus, passionate, confused, obtuse.
Yes, we are electron herders
matter gatherers and shapers
of our time. Cancerous
cysts, irrational exuberance,
collective experience, experiments
gone well or wrong,
we were trying all along
to last forever. Flood and fire
saw to that.
Prospero was our answer
who threw his book
into the sea and wanted to be
mortal, meditative.
Find himself. We found
the world without the self
cornus to oxalis
orbitals and calculus
waves and particles
equally likely to be
within us as without us.
Categories:
herders, books, cancer, fire, god,
Form:
Verse
Over two hundred million people sleeps and wake without a leader,
A cloned effigy in a rock called "Aso"
too old to lead or long dead to be,
demented or dead, they cannot tell,
old age has come but he would not leave.
a cult of connivers shields a tyrant,
with ceaseless speeches and empty promises,
One A Liar , some are writers and others are twitvist,
Two years of silence and none dare ask,
where is the President who took the oath?
Over two hundred million heads bowed to corruption,
East and west the groans is Loud,
where right is wrong and wrongs is praised.
The governors or senator and ministers too,
all aligned to loot the treasury,
recycled bandits in seats of honor,
Judges are blinded and the media subdued,
as brown envelop diverts attention.
over two hundred million destinies suspended,
#ENDSARS was their last successful outcry
a revolution too soon suspended
From Bonny Barracks to Lekki, criminals in uniform murdered unity.
bludgeoned agitators with the barrels the errand boys of a dictator police and solders.
and the masses too scared for a total freedom,
returned to apathy and unending subjugation
Over two hundred Million deprived masses.,
controlled as slaves by a hundred old despots,
Littered across cultures and tribes, a handful few protected by guns,
ex criminals , Presidents and ex all,
with looted funds in London and and Zurich,
atop hills in gaudy wealth,
unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury,
Over two hundred million people disunited,
who by amalgam compelled by Britain's Lugard,
Feudalism and lie called democracy.
The minority herders on a mission
they took the yam and knife without resistance.
where beggars becomes a tyrant after election (Rigged)
and the masses dare not demand accountability
over two hundred million sufferers gave oppressor a breathing space,
where servants becomes the Boss,
without pacifying and unwilling to yield
the Loot looted named palliatives.
old tyrant mock democracy by decrees
What country ?
Don't ask me.
you know it well
Categories:
herders, africa, corruption, image, life,
Form:
Burlesque
The Piece Iberia Rejected
I like to go to Spain one day soon
Portugal is so tiring and deceitful
It is a fantasy land
Where truth and lies blend
Into a bewildering version of
Arabic influence
That Christianity decapitated.
Spain is a big country with a great mind
Portugal is so much smaller
And their worldviews are that of
What you see in an olive copse
Besides I have family in Spain who reads
And like my opinions
I`m respected elder member of the clan
They want me to come home
And lead them now.
Portuguese politeness is based on avoiding
The truth at all cost
No matter how long you leave in Portugal
They will treat you with
A smiling contempt.
So it is time to leave this land
of sheep herders and lawyers
indelible belief in Dictatorship.
Categories:
herders, arabic, baby, beach, betrayal,
Form:
Bio
That pop you hear
is just another can of pin worms being opened
by the disgruntled the entitled the privileged
complaining about what they think they lack
while ignoring the many things they do or could have.
They cluster together in a bait ball of perpetual misery
(of their own making)
pointing stinky middle fingers
at anybody that doesn't agree
with their funhouse mirror philosophy...
In the (mean) time they grow fat off freebies
courtesy of (term limitless) pinkies in government
using the stinkies to divide the masses
while taxing the crap out of the working class
to perpetuate a two class system made up of
sheep herders and sheep
with a big blue collar hole in between....
and as long as the stinkies are miserable
the pinkies have gotten what they want
and will continue to fill our blue collar noses
with the rose colored snot of their bad intentions....
and that buzz that you'll soon be hearing
is the last of the sheep being sheared.
Categories:
herders, anti bullying, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse