An old herdsman said to his son
when one went astray,
untethered take note,
it just wandered away,
“You get my goat!”
A present pupil told the teacher
who the register was taking,
with such a serious cough,
the whole school was shaking,
“You tick me off!”
A bossy boyfriend informed his girl,
“We're going for a walk in the woods,”
but bitterly tired of being bossed,
she gave him the goods,
“You can get lost!”
The carpenter spoke to an apprentice,
yet, as his instruction received no thanks,
believed he was teaching a clown,
and, like sanding a pile of planks,
“You wear me down!”
Sheep graze, silent bleat
Shepard's walk on tepid feet
Pale site soon to greet
Malevolence roar
Cloven hooves may click no more
Red eyes wreck the door
Rotted fur, sense life
Pole that swings the mighty strife
Blood of two, one knife
Wind blown fur. ripped skin
Lambs cry, herdsman hard win
Ewes pain, wolfs dead grin
Grey a sheep, keeper weeps
His flock, the wolf never sleeps
His herd, beware... wolf leaps
A puzzled fold on a summit stands as though deserted.
Though some seem cool, others look, by uncertainties, girted
Is the shepherd careless or struggling with cares of his own?
Staff and sandals are unseen. None of his features are known.
Grass seems grazed. No streams are found. Some are tired. Some suffer thirst.
With a scare of wolves in sheepskins, the valley seems cursed.
If their herdsman has no courage, why should he take them here?
If he has taken them here to take them home, should he fear?
We're on our own; their inner selves said, Let's hold together.
Times, good or bad, might change. Should we not face every weather?
Grazing horizons are endless. Rivers brim full. Streams flow.
Our hope against hopelessness, like gems among stones, must glow.
Why are some sheep still hiding and resting in lethargy?
Have they, as time passed, lost their imperative energy?
Shouldn't those who decide to commence their pilgrimage wait?
Could they afford to leave their comrades to their mortal fate...?
Take my hand,walk with me,
Like the light,let me lead you to the farm
A music show awaits;
Bees humming within the isolated apiary
Cows moe in their grazing circles,
While sheep's bleat amongst them;
Donkeys braying, dogs barking in a distance,
The rooster throws in a mix with a crow,
The pigs grunt,grunt,grunt here and there.
The herdsman whistles, the birds chirp nonstop;
The wind blows by,a cool refreshing we get,
Before granny's hungry cat hisses,and purrs by my one side eye.
Ibrahim saw Abraham try to spit
But about the rudeness thought not a bit:
Herdsman coarsely attacked with a spittle
And it had no meaning or just little,
Whereas it was Abraham’s wished battle
Against his teeming hundred cattle
just placidly grazing on his farmland,
For gratitude discharging dung on sand!
Ibrahim, the black like burnt kettle,
Would, confronted, give a fight of mettle
And might, at last, on farmland just settle,
Abraham leaving to helpless rattle
On a subject of stampede by cattle
And Lord God knows that’s as bad as fatal…
With each fresh eye contact fresh spittle:
Abraham for big ones not little;
For the sure- to- fight Ibrahim herdsman
whom no folk might ever beat man to man.
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)
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.
A Pat on the Back
St Patrick was a humble man, a Christian staunch and bold
He went to Ireland age sixteen whom Irish raiders stole
To slave as herdsman six long years with christian faith new found
Then in a dream told to return back to his Brit home ground
Again he met with troubled times before he saw his folks
Then after went to other lands and even wrote two works
Confessio about his faith. In Latin it was written
His mail to Corrotitus slammed Irish persecution
Again he had another dream and in it saw a missive
The heading ‘Voice of the Irish’ made Pat see his mission
So back to Ireland one more time to make the dream come real
To confirm, baptize and convert all with a renewed zeal
His works were performed without any pride
And he gave his gifts gladly to all those around
Not one he received and that was his wish
But he lived in fear of a martyrdom death
March seventeenth is reserved for Pat’s glory
The shamrock a symbol of the Trinity Holy
From bishop to saint, his status promoted
Snakes in Ireland? Just a tradition instated
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.
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?
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
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.
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
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
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.
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