Herdsmen Poems | Examples

Winter Paradise

Winter could be so beautiful
The endless snowy valley
The fairy blue lake
Herdsmen winter pasture
Herds of cattle and sheep
Herding melodiously
Under a snowy mountain 
A paradise into dreams.

Old Tree

Old tree...
Down at the middle of the vale
Telling tales of an ancient people 
And their lore

Around are  hilly peaks 
Silent in the disquiet below
And just a little while, 
The rain will come; 
Crawling and calling, 
Crashing...
In torrents,
Seeking all true natures disciples
And paint the land in refreshing ink
With morning dew and a green swathe

Wild flowers don't bloom here
But I see the green just as pink, 
Just as yellow and just as sweet
Its just a little closer to heaven

They will charge you a dollar
For some water or Cola
As they wait on you, in soft velvet collars
And to behold such beauty 
Is not about profit
No one ever pays to get to heaven

Still...
Old tree telling tales of an ancient time
When lions roamed and roared
And herdsmen trembled for their flock
A time when there were no roads
And heaven was full mosquitoes and disease
Old tree..

Out of Darkness Into Light

In the quietest part of the night,
When you hover between dark and light,
Wondering if you can float away on dreams,
Hoping they won’t turn into screams…
Out of body out of mind,
Wishing someone could be so kind…
As to for you to pray,
So that there as you lay,
You can have a safe night…
Out of darkness into light…
So tarry me the burden,
Of sending thousands of herdsmen…
To take me in the night,
Into the dark out of the light…
Save me the desperate trouble,
Burst not my fragile bubble,
Save for delightful dreams…
As the world around me gleams…
The gentle harvest moon,
Above me gallantly looms…
Drifting ever far away,
Into the stretching galactic array…
So I wish thee a fair night,
Out of darkness into light…
© Gary Lee Lance

Blood On the Plateau

Gunshots pierces the silence of 
 the night
The shrill cries the shouts and 
 the flight
The herdsmen, spillers of blood are on 
 the Plateau
The Sheriff is seated on the high horse in 
 his Chateau
The Plateau people in such a hopeless 
 fight

My Fathers Car

Blown by Atlantic wind and sail in chains 
  once were ragged souls like chattels branded -
from the Guinea Coast to old Port of Spain
  African herdsmen on slave ships landed.
From my father’s car I saw the cane yields
  where men of burden would cut, burn, and mash,
where woman and child stooping in the fields
  saw the ripping flesh and heard the whips lash.
Now broke are those fetters through time and fate -
  that dark tyranny of a forepassed age,
like the ships of old and their human freight
  hunted, sold, and transported in a cage.
In that old grey Plymouth Fury I swear
I saw ghosts of the mills and the ploughshare.


            Written: December 2009

Raskhan's Wish

If ever again I born as human , may I live amidst Braj's herdsmen,
May I be the mount which protected , Krishna from the Indra's rain,
If I ever born as a cattle , may I live among the Nanda' s herd ,
May I chirp on the yamuna bank , if ever again I born as a bird.


You can sing this poem on the tune of saveya sung by Ravindra Jain !

Raskhan's Saveya

I'll keep the peacock feather,
And the garland of wild blooms,
I'll wear the amber attire ,
And with herdsmen I'll roam,
He lives in the soul of ours,
That's why I'll do all this mimes,
But the flute he kept of his lips,
I'll never keep it on mine .

The Wild Wild North

The rumbling and shovelling 
Pandemonium  and desecration
The killings and maiming of souls
Boko harambee, the harem of 
 murderers
The genie let loose, murder 
  incorporated,
Unlicensed to kill
It's the wild! wild!! North on
  the brink!

The north overrun 
The hounds on the run
The hunt only just began. 
Boko haram has taken the 
  center stage
The grave is filling, yet it takes
  more and more dead.
It's the Wild! Wild!! North on 
  the brink.
(Written on the 2nd May, 2015)
N.B. presently Boko haram, Killer herdsmen, bandits, kidnappers and others have overran Nigeria and overwhelming the Security forces.

I'Ll Go To the President

I'll go to the president and tell him about the people's plight, 
I'll go to the president and tell him about the ambushed and killing of farmers, 
I'll go to the president and talk to him about the herdsmen and their settlement, 
I'll go to the president and remind him about his unfulfilled promises, 
I'll go to the president and tell him about the masses hardship, agony, anguished and plea. 
I'll go to the president and remind him about the enormous natural resources the country is blessed with,

I'll go to the politicians and remind them of yesterday promises not tomorrow's election, 
I'll go to the house of representatives to remind them of people's plea to represent them well.. 
I'll go to the house of corrupt leaders and tell them about the Messiah who gives them power to govern in truth not to be the ambassadors of corruption.. 

I'll go to the universe and beyond and tell all about the greed of men in Power, 
I'll go to the president and tell him about the high rate of unemployment, crimes, segregation, tribalism, favouritism, religious differences, nepotism, regionalism and people's clamour for change..  
I'll go and tell him these and more..

A Free Spirit

How can I explain to you,
you a poor mortal,
what a free spirit is?
Consider I have no bounds,
I go just where I fancy.
I relish moments of madness
without ill effects.
 
Can you see me waltzing
with a fiery tailed comet
that orbits around far off Arcturus,
in the Herdsmen constellation?
Imbibing its bright soft orange light,
enjoying its hard-to-observe buried corona?
 
Can you imagine me swim amongst
the spiral and elliptical galaxies?
Bask in their dense luminosity,
irrespective of their fluctuating temperatures?
 
I've kissed so many moons,
and frolicked with Venus,
watched in awe a cataclysmic nuclear explosion,
as some old dwarf star goes nova.
 
I've seen all this and more,
but rest assured, o miserable mortal,
that I yearn to be substantial like you.
For you can do so much.....
but not I, 
no I can never love or be loved
like you.

Death

What trigger people to kill?
why do people hate?
why is the world full of wickedness?
question 
Rhetorical questions
No more love
No more brothers keeper but brother killer

Fight everywhere 
bombing and death 
blood everywhere 
homeless ,helpless 
yet full of expectations 
heavy drop of tears
flowing heavily

The wounded cry in agony 
waiting to be heard 
top make promises
fake not real
when will it be real?
fear of death grip thy heart

destruction,disaster 
is what we get
No day that passes without fear
why do fulani herdsmen kill?
why the bombing? 
safe thy self
how?

Plagues In Plateau

There have never been a day
as dark as yours
There have never been a night
as sleepless as yours

Let those who mourn mourn aloud
For this is a time to cry
Let those who weep weep aloud
Till their voice are dried

I heard some strangers killed your sons
I heard your daughters are been raped
I heard they've blackened your suns
And left you in a sticky mud of pain

I heard your husbands did not return
Since they went to their farms
I heard your wives were been stabbed
Trying to save their own yams

I heard you died for cows to live
Conjugated into a shell of death
I heard for a single cow's head
Nine or ten of you go down the earth

Yet I heard your were beaten by a stick
I wonder what stick it could be
Oh! its the new herdsmen sticks
That has bullets in it

Curse be the strangers that killed you
Prophetically I speak
Why have they chosen to kill you
Rhetorically it seems

My Joy

Gently she stopped to enter a cab towards her destination, 
And out of consciousness my heart glued to her good looking face. 
In a soft voice I greeted her and in the same way she replied with no need for explanation, 
This created talks between us with the expectation of graduating to the new phase. 

Her beauty is more to be compare to the city of Texas, 
Wisdom is her nature and understanding is her being. 
To talk of her shape is like turning a wow to a daily song that has been. 
Yet that never get beyond her skull to be a vashty, 

Humility is her name but when you dare step her toes death is your reward. 
Her reward of death is not as our herdsmen and of our government, 
For the words that comes from her mouth is enough for suicide mission. 
Hear my daily cries that come from a righteous heart, 

To make your heart to accept me for an everlasting bliss. 
Judge me not with my act or dressing for these I amended but end in vain, 
Rather let your judgement be in the truthfulness of my heart. 
Hear my prayers rear gem for days count on me daily, 

And for my joy to have no end and in this I give you my love.

Death

What trigger people to kill?
why do people hate?
why is the world full of wickedness?
question 
Rhetorical questions
No more love
No more brothers keeper but brother killer

Fight everywhere 
bombing and death 
blood everywhere 
homeless ,helpless 
yet full of expectations 
heavy drop of tears
flowing heavily

The wounded cry in agony 
waiting to be heard 
top make promises
fake not real
when will it be real?
fear of death grip thy heart

destruction,disaster 
is what we get
No day that passes without fear
why do fulani herdsmen kill?
why the bombing? 
safe thy self
how?

Cattle Colony

we've counted all the cattles
those going to South and West 
those to the East and Middlebelt
our ancestral souls still beat
patriotically among the wind. 
they have built a nervous town
full of smiling land scape of 
grasses and water and blood
I think our herdsmen will wear
a political shoes and clothes now
and stop killing heads for 2019!






Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent

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