.
hern
cute blacknose
valais
and aw'them
locks
')
*valais blacknose;
is frequently called thuh
cutest sheep in thuh world
.
likewise
i can sneak you
in az well
hear that
saturday love
me ewe
and
and you
.
but them ewe
better be black
Nearly lost my at work because….
…yes someone has died and I think you might be
next
Turn that frown
…only if gravity changes
Are you okay
…well I was until you came closer
Can I phone anyone for you
….the hospital tell them your blood type
I again not a psychopath
but their is definitely traces
If you need a shoulder to cry on
always pick the one with a hunch
Would you like to talk
not really haven’t stopped for most of my life
The person who bought the thing
that the thought they liked
doesn’t
Sony gave away their stock vr units with the new ps5
Sorry that’s an advert in my poem
then I want a percent
Aging …………………………………my poetry
beyond the abed bird
Not having a good day
excuse me I just need to fill up my chainsaw it is in my locker
Along the roads of grassy fields
where thousands of sheep flit from
Astray from the flock, flouting,
fleeing with fear
blindly following.
Driven through the streets of London
at the Barnet fair to the farmers there.
But the way, takes an insalubrious plot.
Sheer confusion along the countryside
sets in on the herd, then stray
when eddying rapids currented by the tide
and force of the streams give, taken
to an endless frequent float
for great distances steered, stirred
while the timorous turn 'round.
An endeavor to gain the place they set off
As along ancient grassy drove road lies,
weary shepherd and his sheepdog.
Drovers, some on the hoof
The sheep shall stray
back to stay presently in Eden's garden
Jade-green grassy hills of harvest gold,
and cerulean skies.
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
.
and
that's whut
it
would sound like
i
the sheep
sheared
Behold sequestered by the sea,
not whale, nor seal, nor small sand-flea.
This is the face of old grand Ewe,
whom from the cliffs, has come to view.
Though slit-eyed stare, gazes at the ocean,
watching it move in glorious motion.
And then slowly moves across the land,
as trotters deep in arduous sand.
But none the less, the ewe finds the rock,
somewhere steady, to rest her flock.
And signals up with baas of glee,
as sheep come down, all primed for tea.
Yet when the waves do come to shore,
Ewe is perplexed by fish galore.
It flaps its tail, and moves its fin,
yet gasps for air with frightful grin!
For no chud nor chard to eat but bark,
blown in from prior stormy dark.
Ewe signals to the nearby scene,
and struts upon its golfing green.
And takes a bite and likes the taste,
and soon the whole flock emigrate.
Yet by the morn, when putters come,
the grass is gone, all in Ewe's tum.
And so sequestered by put and club,
Ewe takes her flock all way back up.
To grassy cliff, to rocky hills,
away from modern-day, beach side thrills.
But never will the Ewe forget,
The escapade, with no regret.
03.17.2024
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
In the verdant pasture perched on the hilly spine,
ewe leads her frolicking lamb flock in the sunshine.
A lineage of woolly convoy on blithe bouncy trails,
its baaing symphony in the pastoral plateau sails.
With the satin fleece as soft as the morning mist,
each prancing sheep she adores can’t be missed.
Shepherd's calm control emits from love of ewe,
as her eyes glisten like dulcet drops of dawn dew.
She escorts the flock toddling in a dawdling pace,
ewe notice, she's the laudable lady of great grace.
As the sun sets painting horizon with golden hue,
the sleepy sheep seek for the cuddle of caring ewe.
Oh ewe, oh ewe, dear don't you run away
I've come to play ‘Ba Ba’ with you, so will you stay?
I'm not going to shear you like I did before
I've left shearing tool behind 'cause my hands are sore
It's a beautiful day, and Uncle Sun is out
The bad wolf will not come hunting, we have dog scouts
We can play with the rams too, but beware of them
They have lusty designs on you and every femme
The stupid rams are so vain and proud of their horns
We'll send them, and dogs, chasing wolves into bush thorns
We'll dance all day to 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm...'
Evening we'll have fresh hay, blanket to keep us warm
Night we'll play 'Ba Ba Black Sheep Have You Any Wool'
When you're tired and drowsy, I'll shear you with my tool
Job done, I'll tuck you in, and put the wool away
‘Morrow, light and sprightly, you'll again want to play
Baa baa black sheep or should I call you ewe
Yes ma'am, yes ma'am but it's really up to you
eww, eww there's something on my shoe
eww, eww I think I stepped in poo
Baa baa black sheep I think it came from you
Yes ma'am, yes ma'am it's stuck on you like glue
Eew, ewe now what should I do
Should I try to get it off by walking in the dew
Baa baa black sheep do you, ewe have another shoe
Yes ma'am, yes ma'am but I gave it to the cow...moo!
With an impulsive cognizance of the mother instinct
In physique and psyche, with her lambs, she's lovingly linked.
Her head-butting, as though she looks furious, does not hurt.
Her bleat is rhythmic, like a harmonious bass concert.
Like a mom lauds her kids, to lambs the ewe show her love.
As human spirits, is an ewe's soul, sent from above?
Cultures, religions, histories, and theologies praise
Of her flesh, blood, and veins, the science artfully portrays
Symbol of life that flows from human-divine alertness
Isn't there, in an ewe, a unique peacefulness?
Harmony of wily innocence and witty shrewdness
O ewe! You're a magnum opus of divine fullness.
A lamb-like ewe is strutting across the fields-
conceited Irishman is the vibe it yields.
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