Best Sheepskin Poems
Tears rolling down the cheeks
mournfully sighs
falling in a deep lingering thought
Whispering inside silently
I lay a sheepskin rug of purest white
upon the ground for you
love me not ,want me not
cause your heart I don't deserve
The dripping honey from your moon
cannot preserve the smile
behind my pale pearled tears
If I could reach up
grabbing the moon smiling
confetti stars sprinkling them
all over you sweetly
If only by magic
Nor the diamond dust
from your confetti stars
can bring a twinkle to these eyes
These eyes were baptised
with too many holy lies
to ever be disguised
A soulful howl
yearning salted lips
cherishing you babe
within every single teardrop
that falls in your honor
enchanting rising waves kissing
each curl embracing fragrant beauty
I'd rather let my spirit free
to roam in fabled wonders
that always end ' let not love be'
I'd rather gaze in a nocturnal sky
with no one holding me
Cause I have loved with all I am and be
To be betrayed,to be deceived
to be the clown of gaia's destiny
and now not you or any other,no one my dear
No one will set me free
written by Liam and Charmaine
Categories:
sheepskin, devotion, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
She sits on the porch in a cool desert night
A bobcat stalks prey in the day's fading light
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
Evoking old memories she thought she outgrew
Memories of nights of moutons and mums
High stepping half-times and booming bass drums
And homecoming dances that ended too soon
Under West Texas stars and a big bobcat moon
He sits on the beach in an evening gulf breeze
An autumn vacation in the Florida keys
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And brings to his mind an old memory anew
The reunion that gathered together that year
Old friends and acquaintances scattered and near
To tell stories of glories till late afternoon
And share in the evening the big bobcat moon
We sit by the lakeside past sunset one time
The end of another communion sublime
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And summons a vision of friends we once knew
She flies round the barrel with her long ponytail
He yells and rings joy on the victory bell
We loved them and all those who left us too soon
We'll remember them well with the big bobcat moon
©January 10, 2013
For my high school reunion group. The bobcat is our school mascot.
In Texas, girls often dressed up for the homecoming game and were given a chrysanthemum (mum) corsage by their date. In the late fifties an inexpensive "fur" coat made from straightened and dyed sheepskin called a "mouton" was often worn by girls wanting to look elegant.
Categories:
sheepskin, autumn, friendship, loss, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
I crossed hell's fire with my innocence shattered
A wolf in sheepskin
Was the downfall of my dreams
From a pure and sweet bliss
I was thrown in a guilt's abyss
My childhood memories
Now were tainted forever
In my innocent child mind
I waited for my knight
To take me away from the pain I held inside
But there were no sword fights
Nor duels in the dawn
The wolf in sheepskin
Never paid for his sins
I was blamed for my hate
Because I couldn't tolerate
The ones who should defend me
Pleaded for my enemy
My books were my heaven
Their pages my sanctuary
Where I could lose myself
In their tales and happy endings
Time passes and memories fade
Never forgotten
Never forgiven
I still have my skeletons
Hidden in the closet
But I know I'm not the one to be blamed
For the sin was not mine
This wolf controlled my past
But I won't give him power over my future
Now my soul is bright
For it was purified in my fight
****
December 02, 2016
Word count: 178
3rd Place in the contest: Any Free Verse Poem In 200 Words or Less
Sponsored by Laura Loo
Categories:
sheepskin, abuse, angst, child abuse,
Form:
Free verse
I was a Butchers boy.
I delivered peoples meat.
I went round on a bicycle
to save my aching feet.
Some people liked our Pork Chops,
and others they liked Lamb.
You even got the customer
who didn"t give a damn.
The bike it had a basket.
Attached above the wheel,
and when i went down hills,
i rested both my heels.
I worked from four till six.
Except at the weekend.
When i did a longer shift,
it drove me round the bend.
"You always smell of Mince."
My Mother always said.
You will need another shower
before you go to bed.
The girls they used to tease.
They put me in a Stew.
"We like your Sheepskin coat,
we like the look of Ewe."
But i had had enough.
I wished that i"d be fired!
For like my Butchers bike.
I found myself two-tyred!
This Butchers boy was sizzled.
Like a Steak that was well done.
My free time seemed so rare.
I fancied having fun.
Then the Baker called,
but i had to say "No fears."
Just like your Wedding Cake,
it would only end in tiers!
Categories:
sheepskin, childhoodme, boy,
Form:
Rhyme
I enjoyed wrapping my mind around his words
Stretching my thinking
At times coming unglued
Reaching towards oblivion
While keeping my feet in multiple worlds
Standing on sinking ground
While leaning on granites precious solidity
The substance of imaginations inconsistencies
Tugging on the heart strings of a well played heart
Wondering along the pathway of dreams long held at arms length
Hoping to understand
Taking that backward look while moving forward and upward
Words are his gift
Dropped like psychedelic bombs
Ripping at the fabric of convention
Pain wrapped in sheepskin
Joy pushed through pencils point
Leaving me in awe
Dancing and stretching along
Bouncing against his liquid walls
Till I come out the other side
Understanding
Landing
Blessed
More than I was before
Yet part of myself
Stays behind
Trying to catch my breath
Dedicated to Drake
Submitted to Debbie's Guzzi's Referential Contest
"Closer" By Chris Aechtner reminded me of Drakes Work
and Drakes unusual word combinations thus inspiring
the above piece.
Categories:
sheepskin, journey,
Form:
Free verse
It's a place, beneath
dark sky island which
I created just for me.
A piece of eternity far
away from clouds, stars
or land.
To get there all I need is to
meditate, breathe deeply, place on my heart, these poetic hands.
Shaped like a moonstone dome, the home is, and I
am free.
It has a huge window
where I can observe sea
life in awe and in wonder.
There is the fireplace with
its amber glows, which warms
my body and soul.
Here, there is no frantic
search to reach goals.
Candles are lit, I have my
sheepskin cover, to lie down
upon or to get under.
I lie there in awe,and such
fulfilling peace.
There are no electronics there, but I can smell the
sea's refreshing air.
And can go back in time,
and relive moments, fair.
Complete, intact, as they were, with no surcease.
I don't need a movie or
music to reach that space.
It's the healing powers of waves and myriad fish at
the window.
That makes my consciousness rise to
a glistening crescendo.
And touch all those
moments that time can
never erase.
3/10/1
~1~. Edited...
Categories:
sheepskin, fantasy, imagery, sea,
Form:
Quatrain
The marshal saddled up as dawn broke over old Dodge City.
Upon town rabble and mean hombres he took no pity!
He donned his ten-gallon hat and strapped on his gun.
On his vest the marshals' badge gleamed in the rising sun!
Sheepskin chaps and fancy boots completed his dandy outfit.
He was a handsome dude - with the ladies he made quite a hit!
He mounted his horse Woody and took a ride about the town,
Ever on the lookout for desperados of notorious renown!
He took a break for a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs,
Then continued on his rounds on the lookout for society's dregs.
Rowdy cowpokes galloped down Main Street on a toot.
Marshal Dan escorted them out of town in hot pursuit!
At high noon the peace of Dodge City was interrupted,
When a brawl at the Long Branch Saloon suddenly erupted!
Shooting began and Marshal Dan drew his peace-maker;
Two rowdy gun-slingers had a date with the undertaker!
With Marshal Dan, peace in Dodge City was guaranteed.
Danny dismounted his rocking horse Woody, his faithful steed.
It had been a tough day trying to be fair and impartial.
Now it was afternoon nap time for the little five-year old marshal!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
sheepskin, childhoodold, peace, city, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
You don’t need a log on a fire.
You don’t need a soft sheepskin rug;
Just a comfortable place
That you’ve made your own space
And, if lucky, a smile or a hug.
Forget all those candles and dimmers
Or potpourri wafting above;
When you’re home in your nest
What most people like best
Is to know you’re surrounded by love.
Categories:
sheepskin, home,
Form:
Rhyme
The Football Major
By Elton Camp
Though the big oaf can kick a football so high,
Of skills for college work, he lacks a good supply
The old saying is true in his case without a doubt
“Behind the door when the brains were passed out.”
But there is a provision that gives him great elation
Because he can always major in physical education
He can learn all about the types of sports of today,
If he passes enough courses, he’ll be eligible to play
Will he ever be eligible to get his bachelor’s degree?
If there are compliant professors who to that will see
Then he may walk out the door, sheepskin in hand
So a job coaching football he will be able to land
Then a “Master of Education” from an inferior school
And as principal, the big oaf will finally come to rule
Though a coherent sentence he is so unable to write,
Others cover up and the coach will come out all right
Those far more competent than he, the coach can fire
And in their place, some of his sports buddies to hire
What message to the students does such as this send?
It’s not what you know, but who that matters, friend
Categories:
sheepskin, funnyfootball, sports,
Form:
Rhyme
(in John Deere green)
The décor paid tribute to an American icon,
a way of life that built this land.
Did the owner's ancestors farm nearby,
his memories the reason for the John Deere green?
Green everywhere: tablecloths, wooden posts
trim strips on walls, wind-chimes and hanging plants;
not garish or overpowering, but subtle, and pleasing to the eye.
Ceiling beams were lined with strings of Christmas lights,
every bulb in John Deere green.
One old children's hand-tooled saddle—with sheepskin lining
and a cinch made from woven rope—sat astride a dividing rail.
A small shaped mirror near the door, wore a horse-collar frame.
John Deere tractors adorned an entire wall,
displayed on shelves, in framed photos and metal ads,
reflected in large mirrors—evenly
spaced— on the opposite wall.
Locals ate, took no notice. I was enthralled, and ordered
biscuits and gravy, my mind full of memories
of life on the farm, in John Deere green.
Categories:
sheepskin, america, farm, nostalgia,
Form:
Narrative
The Three Little Pigs
The three little pigs
Had lost their wigs
So now all the animals saw
Was three little bald wiggly pigs
They had pen and paper
Pigs writing poetry
They said oinking and inking was in their nature
We have to change the laws of the legislature
Pigs and poetry was made a crime
The horses sneered, well it was about time
They wrote dirty prose and broken verse
Why even Orwell felt this was totally perverse
The ducks just clucked
As ducks normally doo
They chuckled at pig poets going to the loo
They would soon fly away, or else they would be forced to sue
The three little pigs
For their poetry stew
Nuwas rode in on his donkey grey
Looked at the pigs and said oh no don’t you stay
When Abu yelled to the sheep over there
He said bring me a sheepskin and a little of him
Wine flowed as he spun his tales from jail
Of the young couple Mary and Joseph, he laughed and he wailed
Why he said of the three little pigs
Thought themselves Royals cause they wrote with pig-pens
At the wave of his glass, is said be off to your dens
I of antiquity, shall cheer and dance with my fellow turkmen
Seeking justice the pigs went to the owl
However the goats looked up and cried that’s a fowl
Now the farmer was away paying his taxes in town
When he came back to the farm
He found three little pigs had drowned
Notes: This was inspired by a combination of ideas concepts, the first being George Orwell’s Animal Farm, then the controversial proclivities of Abu Nuwas, and the common thread, other than the bizarre, is the freedom to question all things, the failure to do so, only slows down the advancement of science and new ideas.
Categories:
sheepskin, allah, animal, change, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
Zeitgeist - My 1960s - Liz Walsh
Kaftans, mini-skirts, Carnaby Street fashions.
Angel Delight, Hirondelle wine and that sheepskin rug.
"The price of round steak on a Saturday" while
Magdalen Laundries kept dark, dark secrets!
Nylon socks, Cuban heeled boots, body odour -
"it's always the girl's fault - she led him on!-
Button-down collars, civil Rights Marches,
Suspender belts old fashioned, false eye-lashes black -
Excitment, tights, "parents afraid of the new".
Stilletto heels crucifying, Rosary beads grumbling -
"Oh Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee"
Hamburgers, Fleetwood Mac, Anoraks - guilty! remember
Archbishop McQuaid! Bishop Lucey bullying Father Good!
"Wimpey Take-away" - meet a fella - womans lib!
Vietnam War, Albert Hall and Wilson Pickett.
"Would you kiss a boy on the first date?
Drip dry nylon, Dickie Rock gyrating
"Plastics are the future” the graduate said.
"Would you take the pill?"
Tayto crisps - "cheese and onion" munching in the dark.
Che Guevara, Mao Tse Tung and that little red book
In an empire line dress.
Church domination, contraception and major cigarettes
"Back-combing" Vesta Curries and a packet of smash
Maxi, mini, midi-dresses - pan-stick
Mary Quant, Twiggy and the Film Society party.
Flirting innocently, terrified hope - guilt ridden thoughts.
Surges of males, females standing
Eyes scanning, high pitched laughing
"Would you like to dance?"
Free love, flower power, heart thumping
Expensive shoes, a relic of St. Imelda and a chain-store dress -
"She will only get married” Miss Brigid Hayes said!
Afraid of the future, afraid of corruption
Brain exploding - ALL MIXED UP -
Categories:
sheepskin, nostalgiaheart, heart,
Form:
She was warm to the touch
Cold to the bone
A sheepskin clutch
With a heart of stone
Her gentle webbed hands pulling, she drowns him
And he’s seeking solace as she comes up for air
A Benedict Arnold over easy, she confounds him
He comes with a start and she with a stare
Deciphering what truth, if any human remains
She’ll speak dolphin, he’ll just wail
White squid ink on her nightie stains
Her love scribbled on a platypus bill of sale
Categories:
sheepskin, love hurts, lust,
Form:
Rhyme
Eating a hamburger, chasing it down
With milk, I sit in the dismal
Heat of the August sun. The UV rays
Searing my leather boots, I perspire
Beneath my furcap and sheepskin
Gloves. And I am hunting. Patient for
Prey, clutching my rifle, I think:
I love animals.
Toothpick dancing, hair flowing,
I drive my sportscar. A half
Mile behind, the plastic of my meal
Rolling to a stop on the ashphault -
I grin at the radio. And I decelerate
Amongst the gridlock. Trapped within
The clogged artery of highway, I think:
I love the outdoors.
Walking by the homeless, chin raised,
I head for a boxing match. Briefly,
Eyes ablaze and watering, I cheer
For my troops - for clips of war
Telecast in a store window. And I
Lower my gaze to the sidewalk before
Strangers. Frowning at an obvious
Immigrant, I think:
I love my fellow man.
I love my fellow man.
Categories:
sheepskin, social, love,
Form:
Torment...
I lie awake at night and I can’t fall asleep
Recounting every single detail
Of my life that’s passed and surely can’t be lived again
Mistakes I’ve made and never learned from
I stare in darkness at the pictures on the wall
Waiting for their stories to unfold before me
But I don’t see a thing, nor to hear a sound
Only the gears in my mind that keep turning
I watch the clock each night and track the time
As it changes and nothing within me moves
Dreamless again the ceiling always looks the same
And death, in my mind can’t be much worse
I need to change the way that I see the world
Or turning my back should I walk away
Too many people in life that I simply cannot face
With motives of self and no one else’s needs
I find again that the night is not a friend
But a wolf in sheepskin, staring, lurking
Waiting for the moment when it may pounce and feed
On every weakness that lives and breathes in me
Heart and soul and in every breath I take
I feel the torment tearing through me
And I can’t free myself from the awful truths
As I am lying here waiting for the death of me…
Categories:
sheepskin, dark, introspection, life, night,
Form:
Lyric