Best Lambs Poems
There are those engaged in pedagogy
To facilitate the drip... drip... drip
Of poison to accost a child's ear.
Maneuvering with glee and juicy decadence...
Sequestering all they say and hear.
Filled with righteous indignation
And a blind sanctification to their cause.
They pervert both judge and jury...
Twisting truth with sainted claws.
Under a veil of woeful ignorance...
They molest and kink impeccant minds.
When pressed to divulge their scribblings...
They graciously decline.
'You've not the right!' They blindly scream.
'Your fear and doubt is blatantly absurd.
We are gentle shepherds of our flock...
But you'll just have to take our word.'
For far too long we've abdicated our
Responsibility to these purveyors of disruption.
As they've repackaged long failed ideologies...
Fattening our children for destruction.
Nothing good comes from darkness
Except mushrooms and a willingness to deceive.
And proselytizing children like some fungi...
Seems unnecessarily naive.
These predators, race-baiters and gangsters
Are akin to an unruly cockroach in the night.
They happily go about their sordid business
Till someone dares to shine a light.
If you refuse to rise and shine that light...
Then we be back where this began.
But there are still foxes in the chicken-coop...
There be wolves among the lambs.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's your uncle
*Pedagogy: -the principles and methods of instruction.
-the activities of teaching.
fattened lambs no longer
laze in sun -
market day dawns
In this dark and dreary world, the urchins forced to toil
Their body bared and tarnished, gain little sleep and boil
Tiny hands and feets famished, no love they had meet
Like young lambs for slaughter, were they forced to cheat
Sold away by father, with no heart but only greed
How my mind cries, watching this heinous deed
And sighs, its a discriminating fate unfair.
© Nadiya (22 Jan '15)
*Won 4th place on 4 Feb 2015 in the contest 'Interlocking Rhyme' by Isiah Zerbst
i still think of you everyday
but somehow you are slipping away
the things that were your shadows and reflections
are soon becoming fading recollections
i still have times when i play sad songs
still kiss your picture when i get home
and i still have moments when i can't help myself
i cry out in agony with deepest regret
but lately i've been wondering why
why must i for this woman cry
then i think about the moment we met
how beautiful you were i'll never forget
i'll always have our tender moments
the ones you gave me and the ones i gave you
but this world is temporal and so were you
and like Job said "naked i came into this world
and naked i'll leave"
like light from yesterday separated by night
the past like a bird has taken flight
and sadly now we must say our goodbyes
long farewells with tender cries
my obsession with you will come to a cease
my loving soul from yours released
but whenever i'm lonely i'll think of you
you'll always be my comfort when i need you
so for now we'll begin our sad goodbye
till soon one day i'll no longer cry
* For my grandson Makkie - my newest fishing buddy *
~
they …
are amazing creatures
with tiny little arms that stretch
inches, feet … miles -
they find you
no matter where you are or
what you’re doing
and their plump-fingered hands
reach right into you
clutch your heart
squeeze it
and say “you’re mine … for all time!”
and they never let go
not EVER …
they have a twinkle in their eye
that never relents -
not even in sadness or tears
and if you can manage to
coax a smile
it reminds you of just
where the sun gets its shine
and the moon, it’s glow …
their giggles are like
butterflies dancing across a
midday meadow
with a bounce and bliss that
makes you feel eternal
and a music as
gentle and sweet as any …
and their spirits -
indomitable delight and charm
a wisdom, untainted that
is lost over time
(convoluted by concern and struggle)
but with an insight that
is awarded to only the pure-of-heart …
everything they do -
everything they see and find -
is new and wondrous
and each lesson, learned slowly
constructs their personality
like soft clay being
shaped by the hand of experience
and hardened by maturity
there is no greater treasure in this world
than the gift of life
and nothing that carries it
as tenderly as a child -
joyful, exuberant, capricious
nothing is or could ever be
more precious a miracle
than …
they.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, September 14, 2023
( this is a form I created called “Bookend Free Verse” )
Soft like sheep
The Clan in white sheets
Full of indignation
And ignorance
They march to their own battle cries
Care not for innocents who have to die
Their cause though evil, noble in their eyes
As Hamas, they burn those with education who decry
The violent aggressions
Their deceptive practices and petty battles
Become pretty slogans for the misguided ones
How mild spring comes in
the magic of nature bound
with many soft curls
They crouching close together
folded in each other's hearts
Tongues destroy what monasteries built,
And blessings fall on those consumed with guilt.
Angels visit the demon spawn ,
Watching whilst dusk turns to dawn.
The cruellest of all hide in corporate burrows,
Yet God's brow barely furrows,
And so the world keeps on whirling.
As Man's morals keep burning,
The tide is turning.
The pasture is filled with rams.
The farmer takes no notice of the silence of the lambs.
Dueling Americans
love drawing blood from a distance
Crossing swords with their dogma guns ...
a test of mettle:
Who will bow first
to the pressure building in their lungs
Bipedal zip-lip back-to-back walkers,
bivalve mollusk closed-minded talkers
Fifty paces then turn...
make a quick trigger decision
Taste the iron-cooper burn,
mortician diagnosis: it's a dead mute condition
Mouths kept shut to the mounting evidence,
metal defense always gives the final argument
Bicameral battles in a dark, backroom alley
Congressional blood feud,
never count the bullet-riddled body bag tally
Some wink, nod and non-verbal say
there’s no need to do a single gun violence study
Their lead belly reasoning
is that sidearm pals are a goodfella’s best buddy
In a courtyard bar hall fight,
the fastest finger can make the call dead to rights
Trigger hand-to-trigger hand combat;
getting pistol whipped on Capitol Hill,
give the fact-deficient citizens voter brain concussion
Create a comatose public forum —
put a cap in any crazy talk
of having calm, common sense gun-control discussion
American deer hunters
barrel tell the Bambi does to keep their mouths closed
Silence of the clams
Shut the trap-doors, shutter the transparency window
Money talks ... silence of the clams
No one to legislate protect the little lambs,
what happened to the mighty pen battering rams?
Only pimped-out politician whores
working for Daddy Rich Uncle Sam
Sound byting their tongues from shore-to-shore,
lip-synching parrot style on video cam
Silence of the clams ... money talks,
pearl handles guard the robber barons’ bank vaults
Money talks ... silence of the clams
In a gun-toting realm,
the baddest hip-slingers dragon walk
Breathing fire from the barrel,
yellow-taped pavements outlined in chalk
Dueling Americans
are always bullet quick on the ballot draw,
targeting all real challengers from a rifle scope distance
Gun spray silent, smoking scarlet wisps
of violent intentions fired at any radical vocal resistance
(Can you guess which Sheep/lamb nursery rhymes
I’ve parodied with these three piggy rhymes?)
1. Oink oink, white pig, have you any pork?
No WAY, Mister! Drop your fork!
You think you’re takin’ bacon? In a pig’s eye!
You’ll have to drag me kicking from my pig’s sty!
2. Sullivan Slime has sold his swine
To a butcher man named Kevin.
They’re gone from his home, no more to roam.
Let's hope they're in hog heaven!
3. Hilda had a big fat hog, big fat hog, big fat hog.
Hilda had a big fat hog; its snout was cute and pink.
And everywhere it went with her, went with her, went with her,
And everywhere it went with her, it made an awful stink.
To hide its smell, she used her car, used her car, used her car.
To hide its smell, she used her car to take it near and far.
And since on freeways it was hauled, it was hauled, it was hauled,
And since on freeways it was hauled, a “road hog” it was called.
For the Nursery Rhyme Contest of Debra Squyres
Some dirty street lambs
Hungry and looking for food
Found papers to eat!
Joyfully the lambs bucked leaped and sprang
full of merriment with life and freedom
a lush green meadow for them and mustang
the maiden walking towards them buxom
Carrying buckets of pellets for them
running towards her hopping and skipping
in their excitement and causing mayhem
listen to them do you hear their bleating
Nightfall is fast approaching soon be dark
slowly the lambs return to their mothers
the ram watches over them like a monarch
he will keep them safe from any ambushers
Now night has fallen peace and quiet reign
just the whisper of the wind through the grain
Early spring field and scattered daffodils,
Framed in by the ethereal green hills.
Sun sweet warmth falls behind and tries to gain
As gray clouds drift, a calming sprinkling rain.
Under the dappled shade of the tall free
Laden with rich white blooms Bradford pear tree
A wooly ewe milking her small lambs, lie
Contently tucked resting until clear sky.
Baa-baa, scamper, and leap among the field
Awaiting time as mama made them yield.
3/17/2024
Lambs of Freedom
Love, faith and unity
Ye three millenia,
Green, yellow and red
Coronate Aethiopia.
Gamma colors ye freedom
Thou hast burning candles,
Memory of the lambs
Thou hath ye cradles.
Green, yellow and red
Tricolors ye freedom,
Green, yellow and red
Ye honors thy honordom.
Let them reveal ye happiness
Glory be thy holiness.
Aethiopia Hoy!, Blessed and free
Freedom ye mater dolorosa.
On Saturday, the L A Rams
Encountered the Monterey Clams
With no and, if, or but
It was open and shut
The Sopranos limped home like lambs!