Best Herdsman Poems


African Rhythm

I am....
An Ashanti warrior A Bantu dancer 
I am a Yoruba royal clothed in my Asooke 
Dancing Adowa and kpalogo to tunes from wulomei and masekela  

I am proud Masai 
Standing around manyattas, 
Jumping to melodies from the olaranyani
Eunoto is here and today I dance in front my peers in transition into a senior warrior 

Oh how sweet the African rhythms 
Imprudently lifting and soul soothing 
Sisala sebrew on Akan drums 
Highlife explorations unending on opus 1. 

I am an Ewe woman 
From the lineage of Nerfetiti 
And a great great ....grand daughter of Nandi 
My Gèle will never fall off 
My Dashiki will never fade out

I am a Fulani herdsman 
Wandering the Sahel plains of Africa 
Along with a fellow Malinke brother
Who speaks fluent igbo and today we revisit our roots in Nok 

I’m from Gao 
320 km east-southeast of Timbuktu. 
A descendant of Sonni Ali ,
Reciting the epic of Sundiata with intertwining soothing kora melodies from Kandia Kouyate 

Oh how dazzling the African landscape 
And glorious it's Heritage 
Such rekindling and Homeric folklores 
And a boundless diverse cultures 

I am the African dream 
mother's only son my father’s only daughter 
I'm the incantations of royal fetish and message behind the talking drum 

I am the African noble 
Free from identity torment 
I know of my glorious past and my colourful future 
My city will bleed no more 
Never again will i be a wanderer 

I know my culture 
And my alluring language 
Ah how powerful the African names
Araba Termytorphe and Ifedayo chant in unity 
Diallo Sissoko and Achiaa bestow serenity 

Mbali and Lamisi elegantly wore their kente 
Tonight we dance to tunes from the kete 
For Yaa Asantewaa never gave up the fight 
So we lift our hearts with emancipated minds 
To reach new heights ! O’ Nana Nyame,
May you forever guide us with your light .
© Kofi Amed   Create an image from this poem.

One In a Million

One in a million, gazillion, bazillion
Worth more than gold dollars a trillion or a billion –
You are my beacon, a Christian, love driven.
No heathen, no herdsman, no huntsman or felon.
No elfin, no ermine, no coward or chicken.
No Klansman, no demon with madman's affliction.
No Gremlin, no goblin no devil dare action.
No draftsman, no doorman, no footman in fashion.
No henchman, no lynch man, no hack man or hangman.
No plowman, no pressman, no herdsman or ranch-man.
No oarsman from Dublin, or coachman from Britain.
No Cajun, no Haitian, no Frenchman, not Latin.
Not even a Martian with earthly transactions.
My hearts guiding light, my soul's satisfaction,
I know your great love by your kindness in action.
You read every thought and broaden my smile.
You stand close beside me mile after mile.
No hardship that comes can tear our love down.
Nor turn your demeanor into an endless frown.
Brought together by fate, marriage became our ensign.
We walk together on a straight and narrow line.
You are my fortune, my gladdening in famine.
My almsman, my sweetheart, you loved my tears away.
My one in a million, gazillion, bazillion
I thank God everyday that you came my way.
A gazillion, bazillion, and trillion thanks I send to you.
I promise that my love will never say adieu.
My Norwegian, I love you.

© November 12, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Holy Christ Child

Yes, I was there when He was born
that all mankind from sin be shorn.
When His folks were told no room at inn,
kind creatures welcomed him as kin.
The shepherds and the Magi came
and with great reverence, praised His name.
A shepherd who dared not leave his sheep,
brought them along the Babe to meet.

I watched the scene with pure delight,
knowing I shared with all that night.
I am the cow, who led her calf
without a herdsman and his staff.
I left a stall, still warm but bare
for that  Child and His natal care.
Sweet Mary smiled her thanks to me.
That she was tired was plain to see.

When the Child was born, the angels sang
And unseen bells with gladness rang.
There was no rest for man nor beast,
so  many came, the best and least.
The Family was challenged the next morn,
when rumors flew, a King was born.
King Herod was consumed with rage
when he was told this by a sage.

He decreed that all boys under two,
must die and then to prove it true,
and he wasn't having a bit of fun,
he even murdered his own son.
The family fled with their new Son
and though many terrible deeds were done,
this Child  was saved and lived to be
the Savior of all humanity.

November 22, 2015
Form: Rhyme


The Song of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.
Form: Narrative

Second Coming

Fusillade! The thunder throbbed merrily
 As the grassy hay in the stable clamped the baby lad
 Involuntarily, intoxicated tears started running mad
   Huge hand stroke beard, eyes lashes blushed wearily.

Rambling on tarragon path with lively pasture
   Glaring, jealous eyes creep-ed, must be the son of the herdsman,
Who tickled the plants, poked the animals and sent obloquy to man
 They engraved a cave, o! Capture that creature.

He must not stay, a mutant from the pit of sea
 Mistrial, voices rattled, real alien some tittle-tattled,
Shackles raised, skin bruised, gallows set, parents fled,
  Thunder scared, cloud dark and disdain, lightening too blind to see.

Just infusion, the choric birds racked bitterly,
   He will be back, majestically.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Bedouin

Beyond a sandstorm’s gritty veil,                       
A solitary Bedouin,
Like a ghost in a sea of dunes,
Rides slowly along in the dusk.

The singing of rababah strings
Mimic the cooling evening winds;
Tambourines and flutes sound sadly
From the oasis where he’s bound.

His caravans once wound their ways
From the Atlas to the Tigris,
Trudging across the somber sands
Of a boundless and barren realm.

O Bedouin, where are thy tracks?
No hooves clatter in the wadis;
No trail of rotting camel dung.
O Bedouin, where are thy ways?

O Bedouin does your dirah
Yet teem with goat and camel flocks,
Since you have settled in the towns,
Which you once heaped with scorn and mocked?

O noble herdsman once so proud,                                        
Tightly wrapped up in culture’s shroud,
Are you bottled up like the Djinn;
Forced to serve those who hemmed you in?                                      

The rosy mirage of freedom
Is like a scarlet evening light
That paints the clouds with fiery hopes
Which fade in thralldom to the night.


Damned Souls

Lyra and Herdsman
Two constellations erotic couple
Milking over the Lotus Fiber-Haired River

On the nurtured bridge
That is attached to a celestial meet
From the standing

Of your heaven gaze
Before the evening 
Of a large form.
Form: Haiku

Dusk

DUSK
In the famine ravaged lands
The atmosphere is pregnant with uncertainty
Of what tomorrow brings forth
A herdsman leads his malnourished goats
Into their pens with their fable cries barely
Audible as hunger pangs strike ferociously

Carcasses of starved animals carpet the roadside
As the aura of starvation fills the air 
Leaving a trail of destruction and hopelessness
The scotching sun hits the already dried up
 River beds as a sand storm prepares to hit
 Disolence is that is left in this once promising land 

The old men sit in groups under
A partially dried acacia tree
Murmuring in low tones
The hot humid wind hits their faces
As their wrinkle filled faces 
Betray their empty stomachs and the 
Ambiguity of the future

As dusk settles in the women
Stream back with empty pots 
After miles under the merciless sun
They have nothing to show off their
Hard day’s work but empty containers and 
Dejected hearts

As night falls no children can be heard
Playing out but they scramble for 
One en’goi to quench thirst in their 
Sour throats oblivious of the danger they are  under
But the level of desperation knows no bounds
As hunger pangs tear through their scrawny pot bellies

The babies suck their mother’s empty breasts
Their hunger cries pierce through the silent night
From the corner of the mothers eye
A tear  drops as the intensity of baby’s cry elevates
But the determination and the will to live super cedes
The pangs in her acid filled stomach and with
A weak barely audible voice she says
It shall be well my child
As streams of tears roll down their conspicuous cheekbones

                                                                                                           BY
                                                                                                                 HOMIT
Form: ABC

Premium Member Herdsmen and Farmers

Marauding herdsmen, simple
 in disposition,
 but yet
 sophisticatedly armed
 straddling an AK47 as 
 the rod of a stockman.

The simple farmers, genial
 in disposition garnished
 with infectious courtesies
 straddling simple tools.

It's a fight to the slaughter
 not of cows so sacred
 but
Of grazing rights and farmlands
Of pastures and food crops
Of the North and the South.

The sacredness of the herdsmen
 and cattle.
The lowliness of the farmlands,
 life
 at its lowest ebb.
Impunity!, impunity!! where the 
 rule of law reigns supreme.

The herdsman as sacred as
 Buddha.
But the farmer as droppings on
 a dunghill;
 to be trampled upon.
Blood and dust a mix with 
 derision.
Blue blood runs in the 
 herdsman's veins

The herdsmen reign supreme in
 Nigeria.

Last Year At My Workplace

There were meadows free to the far,            
Clean, green and quiet calm.
Pebbles and stones, scattered,
As in the blue sky’s stars’ view.

On a remote-side grew wild thorns high,
Played the bees and b‘flies and I;
And the good dog passing by had watched us
On his hurried walk
From an afar village
To the distant one.

By the broken-burnt mulberry,
Lone, half erect and half down,
Goats grazed with caws and sheep
And the old herdsman with his tiffin and cane,
Called, cried, whistled and ran.
© Fayaz Bhat  Create an image from this poem.

The Herdsman

On a sunny day,
The herdsman observes,
As usual the herds,
Towards the pasture they heed.
Advance! Advance!
As the slaughtering is today,
The merchant delightfully spends for his pay,
No longer living in despair.

While manning the herds, a question remains unanswered.
Good riddance!
What kind of this diabolic creature,
Struggle to survive, never,
Strive for the best, sympathy is an err.
Uncertainty costs the future,
Like the herds living in the pasture,
Hope and dream no longer.

Alas, the end is near,
No treat for the fever,
Their death fortunes others.

(28/11/2018)

Cain & Abel

Adam & Eve had Cain
then they were blessed
with Abel, two sons.
 
Abel was the herdsman
while Cain was a farmer
Cain bringing an offering to the Lord
of the fruits of the ground;
Abel, meanwhile, gave Him
the firstborn of his flocks.
 
The Lord was touched by Abel
his offering acceptable,
while that of Cain
the Lord did not find
to be pleasing.
 
Cain objected to this
being very upset,
so the Lord asked him
why he felt as he did.
 
The Lord admonished him
warning him that sin lurked
ready to steal his heart
advising him to fight it,
to master it.
 
Cain remained angered
contriving to take his brother
out into the field,
there murdering him.
 
So the Lord asked Cain
where his brother was;
Cain sarcastically replied
that he didn't know
retorting as well, asking
was he his brother's keeper?
 
The Lord admonished him
telling of his brother's blood,
its voice crying out
to Him from the ground.
 
The Lord cursed Cain
from the earth,
warning him it would no longer
give him good harvest.
 
Further, Cain would be
a fugitive, homeless,
but Cain begged
saying his punishment
was too great to take.
 
He feared for his life
that his brother's murder
would soon be avenged.
Also that he would be hidden
from the face of the Lord.
 
However, the Lord marked Cain
warning anyone who might
try to take his life
that their punishment
would be sevenfold.
 
Cain then left the presence
of the Lord
settling in Nod, east of Eden
having a son, Enoch,
with his wife there.
 
He founded a city
beyond there,
naming it for his son,
calling it Enoch.
 
SKB

© COPYRIGHT S. K. Barrera 2008 All Rights Reserved

Impermanence

I lie in the reclining chair, 
sucking my teeth
and wonder why the passing cattle
only stop in the field next door

and then the herdsman comes
with his tortured, twisted cattle- 
prodding stick, and they all move on,
me, the herdsman and the cattle

Expression

My boss bargains by Brooklyn bridge
I find fluffed feathers in my fridge!
At night, nostalgic nooks are found,
I see the hunter, herdsman, hound.

All say it's nonsense!
But it's not.

Seldom speaking, staying silent so
Within me, the great grudge grows.
I'm not cunning, can't care, can't cure
I am lonely, can't love, lie, lure.

Sick, sad, seeking sympathy
In this monotonous mess.
Where the world wears and wan
Can't we all be friends?
sad

Everybody Needs It

Everybody needs a pencil
Everybody needs it
Everybody needs a rubber
Everybody needs it
To correct their inaccuracy
Everybody needs it
Everybody should smile
And be happy for that life
Never to laugh at failures as losers
Rub them, sharpen your pencil
Make a high resolution image and love it
Be a carpenter love it
Everybody needs it
Be a herdsman love it
Everybody needs it
Busy yourself and love it
Love the works of your hands
No one needs to die
Not even those who commit suicide
Don't think about it
Strive to live without end
Everybody needs it
Don't be rich and hate your friend
Don't be poor work firmly
Don't be evil and earthly

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