We are swords, yet so silent,
Living on this planet.
Like birds that sing every day,
Telling us that the weather is bad.
I fear many things,
For the jungle is deeply disturbed.
Lions think they are the owners;
They rule the goats without mercy.
Hens are persecuted by lions;
They burn while waiting for the rain.
Peace is only a dream in the jungle,
And difficulties begin when we wake.
People pray for the night,
Not for the daylight that brings suffering.
They beg for help because
The elephants disappeared with their promises.
They abandoned the jungle like strangers,
No longer longing for their home.
Who will save the little birds from the lions,
Lost in the darkest part of the forest?
Only brave knights can rescue them.
You have heard of shenanigans, right?
we were introduced to shenani-goats tonight
they romped and jumped and butted our behinds.
ruthlessly rambunctious, rough, not in any way kind.
Do we have to come back? Asked my child, Hue.
His bottom and legs were now black and blue.
They aren’t trying to be bad, my sister said.
An opportunity for a shenani-goat to butt her in the head.
(“Pantheism Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
People come in all shapes and sizes
But in my experience
There are basically only two types;
Sheep and goats.
Now everyone knows
Sheep go to heaven and goats go to hell,
But pretty much you are what you are
And can only pretend otherwise for so long.
Of course the heaven of sheep
Is nothing more than a nice green pasture
Fenced in and patrolled by a big dog
While the hell of a goat
Is a rocky knoll, with a nice view
And no body to disturb him.
I don’t know about you, but I’ll take the rocky knoll
Without its vaccinations or public school indoctrination
Any day, and any way
Come hell or high water.
After all, I know how to climb and swim
And living free or dying
Isn’t a choice
But a statement of fact.
Now that I think of it
I can understand where the sheep are coming from
And that safe little pasture down there
Sure looks nice,
But wait, isn’t that the mobile slaughter truck
Coming up their drive now…
(10/4/25)
The moon, a charcoal smudge, hangs low and dim,
while stars, like pinpricks, pierce the black night.
Clicking crickets creates a raucous hymn,
and katydids whir on new wings to take flight.
A yellow bulb's honeyed glow makes a homey sheen
until a timer flicks a switch turning off the light
and letting darkness rush into the tranquil scene,
making baby goats bleat from fright.
In the corner lays a lumpy carpet of fur
made by mamma goats cuddling nice and tight;
making the entire goat herd an entangled blur
of white rumps and necks entwined in the night.
Except for little Gideon, who stands in the barn door;
a castrated pygmy goat turned into a withered grazer,
stares at the house below without a snort or a snore,
as he chews his cud, thinking about some tormentor.
Why else stand guard?
We laud the sports G. O. A. T. ‘s,
the “Greatest of all Time” who please
us fans with their skills.
We crave those great thrills.
Each chance to support them, we seize.
Of special goats, you might have heard,
deemed royal by King Charles the III.
This rare golden breed
is regal indeed.
Last month this bestowal occurred.
nanny goats eat grass and leaves of trees
wild mountain goats stand on rocks with ease
tiny pygmy goats know how to climb up trees
frumpy milking goats give product away with ease
long-eared goats look as weird as bumblebees
wonder if army goats do pushups from their knees?
WE GOBBLE GOAT’S CHEESE
Scales of justice weighed in gold and coal
cherubs and demons cheer without fear
horns blow, rooms gather fat
Coaxing a grey Persian cat
climb stairs of glamour
or disillusioned clamour
Heads dance across Florentine floor
joy shiver silent at a wooden door
hazardous stealth the cunning core
Roti fry in sesame oil to serve
with Côté D’ Or, everything coiled
drops of champagne sorrowfully soil
Chameleons cut own coloured flesh
hiding wounds wry waistcoated breasts
Botox gone awry, confess !
Scales dramatise to legitimise
two platters evenly plead
weighing a crafty compromise
We gobble goat’s cheese
celebration up in a breeze
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Songwriting2016
Standing atop a blade of grass
Closing in toward the edge
Beard balancing a dangling ass
As it looms over the edge
Danger heeds below the passers by
Unknowing underneath the eave
A lightly plop from just up high
A souvenir before they leave
Vendors and markets as summer booms
Quirks and perks of a grass topped roof
The strife and life of the goats of Coombs
In the clackety clack of a mischevous hoof
Aquarium realms
of anointed fools
masquerade as sensibility
Typecast foolscap
tired typewriters ribbons
don't have a prolonged head
Between the streets
where the drunkard
spins his tales
A strange panacea
scattered snakes
launch ta ta tee
Oh sang the Sea goat
his change as constant as the tide
strangely sympathising
the endless wave
A disastrous sunflower,
Poe is hour after hour
now studied the way a murder is
by Alfred Hitchcock or Sherlock Holmes
long-lived even in death,
he suffers in hell
through our eyes on the page
and our ears thereafter.
Gobble
Gobble gobble,
that's what they say,
nearly every day...
I go out to greet them.
I go out to meet them.
I go out to feed them,
I need them,
as they make me laugh.
They are clumsy they are klutzy,
they are ballerinas in training too.
I mean to tell you...
all
about
them.
They have long necks,
and big feet,
not to mention
they will eat...
everything you don't want them to,
and nothing that you do.
The silly birds...
ride around on the goats.
They are like parade floats.
They walk in the water trays,
and swim in the trough.
I tell you turkeys over chickens
are a little off.
Goats...
They are funny creatures, little goats.
They make you laugh,
when the world
is not funny.
They know how to have fun,
in the sun...
of every
day.
We should learn more from animals.
They are better at living their lives,
then we are.
They know that the world
is full of miracles,
and have no reason
to fear the day.
We should take time to jump around,
and dance, and prance,
like reindeer in the snow,
or raccoons on the go.
Each wild thing,
closer to the maker,
and the earth-shaker,
than any other animal...
on two feet.
Do not waste your vote, all say
But, who shows the right way?
All politicians are fully corrupt
The Nation may face bankrupt
If you elect kindly Mr. X
He will be weak in sex
On the other hand Mr. Y
Will make Justice die
If you make your vote invalid
Again you prove to be stupid
As someone will put your vote
This you may not even note
When cut-throat people rule
They will make you a fool
In case you are educated
Your ideas will be cremated
Luck alone will place you there
Where Justice will prevail sir
In case you are not that lucky
Country will make you panicky.
"The end is near," the short-wave said.
"Before midnight, all will be dead."
I aim to leave my baggage here.
For my warted nose should I fear?
April fifteen and taxes due
Can I afford to be so lax
As to ignore my yearly tax?
Pinch me, pinch me, I hope ‘tis true.
Will my love share claret and cheese
Before God winnows wheat from chaff?
With a glass of wine can we laugh
Watching thundering grim gray seas
Cast wild waves on our forlorn shore
Until the devil gets his due?
Or will we stand in line as two
To learn sheep or goat is our score?
Eternal gates are drawing near,
Ajar, for us to wail or cheer.
2005
Once a little goat with a small horn,
Wanted to become a unicorn,
She wished and she wished every night
And prayed and prayed, it might
Come true, I want to wish on a star,
So the next night they saw one far,
But although so bright
Gave off little light.
Look mummy at that grass over there,
Please don’t stare,
For they might run away, fairies
Right next to the bush with berries
I’m going to send them a whisper
Mummy kissed her, ooh your whisker
Tickles mummy, suddenly three
Fairies flew by her side what do you
Wish for most, as you are of the few
That never asks, whatever you wish,
I want to be a unicorn, please
They waved their wands with ease,
There stood the prettiest pink unicorn,
Gone was the small horn,
Replaced by a twirly one,
The little goat girl now an awesome unicorn,
Her star sign remained Capricorn.
She had a fluffy mane
And her eyes were blue, insane.
Oh fairies I love you so much
Your wands and their magic touch,
What can I do for you.
and you and you,
Listen to your parents and be a good girl,
And thus your mane will always curl!
HURRAY
Entering Contest: Nursery Rhyme 5
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Dated: 21/04/2021
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