Long Counting sheep Poems
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I was born inside a house with no address.
The black SUVs that sit outside are numbered.
The walls keep moving.
The mirrors started showing reflections
I can't recognize,
whispering names
of whom I do not know.
The lawn in the backyard is AstroTurf.
I rolled my ankle twice while outside.
Digital warfare remains at an all-time high,
yet I still have trouble putting down my phone.
7:00 p.m.
Is that a bird
or a drone?
The clouds leave me in awe,
counting sheep
And I'm jealous of the birds—
the way they spread their wings
and simply fly.
They're free.
I wonder if the birds ever look at us
from somewhere above
and think the exact same thing:
What would it be like
to be free?
who out foxed who?....
a fox chases field mice
into the house
mouse invasion....
Normandy, the cat, smacks lips
while on night duty
the sound of vagrants....
two different worlds are living
just floorboards apart
silence of the lambs....
scurrying feet on attic floor
wakes man counting sheep
an angry farmwife...
a carving knife is missing
from the kitchen drawer
a tail-less mouse....
angry rodent chases the
farmer and his wife
three blind-sighted mice
run up the grandfather clock....
grandma reads nursery rhymes
new fangled mouse trap
is set with a piece of cheese...
dinner was a snap
cow jumps over moon....
no creatures were stirring
not even a mouse
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Dedicated to "a mouse goes "squeak" !! For Skat !!
An Old Man’s Bedtime Prayer
Lord: Now I lay me down to rest.
To get away from this days test.
To rest my head on pillows fluff.
To clear my head of all the stuff.
That comes your way as you get old.
It’s part of life that’s seldom told.
I hope to get some 10 hrs. sleep.
I’ll probly end up counting sheep.
As I look back across my days.
I know I’ve sinned in many ways.
I’m real sorry. I’ve told you that.
To say again just sounds “old hat”.
But now I plead for this short break.
To get some rest for bodies sake.
If you “Oh LORD” my wish would grant.
And do for me something I can’t.
For I’ve no strength, my life to take.
Just let me die before I wake.
For my old joints have turned to rust.
I’d just as soon they’re back to dust.
Lord: If I’d wake and look about.
I’d “Hoot & Holler” and give a shout.
If I would find that was my fate.
To there be standing, inside “The Gate”
To know at last I’d passed the test.
I don’t need seats among the best.
It’s enough to not be missed.
My name was on His special list.
But you know best, I’m sure of that.
So if I wake, I’ll just hang pat.
I’ll dream of red, rare, steaks so fat
To ponder where the “Good Times” at.
I’ll shuffle through another day.
And burn more bills we strain pay.
To keep us warm in this cold pit.
And by the window now to sit.
As I think back to ‘yester’ years.
With all the joy, few sprinkled tears.
I never dreamed, these “Golden Years”
Would be so filled with pain and fears.
I never thought I’d leave alone.
My wife & I would share our home.
But when I’m gone, alone she’ll bow.
She’ll need get by . . .I don’t know how.
With this I’ll close my nightly plea.
I’d be forever in debt to thee.
If you would oft stop by this way.
To comfort wife here every day.
Written to honor all the elderly that
Struggle with their health, their obligations,
their present & their future.
Breathing, counting, don’t ignore the basiC
cover up if you sleep commandO.
“Monster mosquitoes masticating” in your bayoU.
“Disquieting dreams” can be so meaN.
“Properly prostrate” on the mattress - don’t siT
and stare, nor stress, nor sweat like you’re a tsunamI.
One, two, three - begin with “dire determinatioN.”
You might imagine “wooly wonders” as you sinG.
Peaceful, quiet rest as you atone and blesS
each pastoral lamb in the shadow of death husH,
your breath, halitosis mixed with lemon and limE.
Forget everything and everyonE.
In no time, you’ll be fast asleeP.
9/29/2022
I tell you I like, that Wayland a bunch
He'd be the guy, to be there in a crunch
Not afraid of humor, he paves the way
With clerihew words, he loves to play
Let's talk of Eileen, the Queen of passion
Her verses of pleasure, will not be rationed
She causes men to rise, women to weep
Many a farmer, have stopped counting sheep
Then there is Shadow, who is a bright light
Her name suggests darkness, but that isn't right
With a pen and paper, she loves to play
Out of the Shadow, poems brighten our day
There is the woman Donna, she is filled with charm
For her animals, she'd give her left arm
Still here in the soup, she adds her own spice
She's a little bit hot and a whole lot of nice
When it comes to Eagles Montery's the last word
She's not in a flock she's a solitary bird
With her strong wings creating a breeze
Verses dance on the wind with the greatest of ease
I can't forget about Richard, now there's a man
He teases Eileen, just because he can
Yet within the humor, his clever exists
His poetic talents, impossible to miss.
My friend Vicky T, has brought me to tears
She possesses insight well beyond her years
A voice from the wilderness, please take heed
Wisdom resides in her poems that we read
When it comes to nature, our Nette is the girl
She makes mountains quiver and pretty leaves twirl
To angelic worlds she causes us to travel
Brooks are helpless she makes them all babble
Our Andrea she is well beyond great
Her words are profound they carry such weight
Regardless of form, many contests she wins
She's top of the heap, before she begins
Becca's a doll, with a sensitive pen
She writes of the now and also the then
Her words magical, a muse guides her pen
Capturing my mind again and again
This place amazing, a Mystical Rose
A unique handle my creative friend chose
Perfect for her that woman has style
A perfect seven at the top of the pile
My buddy Drake he has really mad skills
With words like honey the airways he fills
If you are lucky he'll let you co-host
To him I raise a glass to happily toast
Others must wait I'm running out of Rymes
I will write of them some other time
Until then I must wish you all goodbye
Have a sip of my soup, give it a try.
Inspired to try my first Clerihew by
Wayland Bunch. Hopefully I have got it right.
There is a wonderful sensation parents feel…
it is quite beyond compare.
at first it may seem solitary…
but…
it’s shared by parents everywhere.
It matters not what nationality,
what religion,
what color…
this is a universal feeling…
one all parents find as captivating…
as enchanting…
as appealing.
Their children have all gone to bed…
they’ve long since quit counting sheep
when parents peek inside their bedrooms…
to stop and watch them sleep.
And in those quiet moments
as light seeps in from the hall
all parents wonder how they can feel so much love…
for someone so innocent and small.
They smile at the stillness…
it’s a time when all activity has ceased…
their children are safe, secure and happy…
their life is calm…
their world at peace.
It’s a moment parents all across the world
hold in high esteem…
A moment shared by everyone
as they watch their children dream
For in that moment
before they turn and bid the day adieu
parents realize how lucky they are…
that their dreams are coming true.
Quietly and lovingly they close the door…
knowing this memory is one they’ll keep
until tomorrow night when they return…
to watch their children sleep.
I wonder would we still have wars….
would hatred for each other run as deep
If instead of fighting
we just compared notes
on how our children sleep?
Trouble Sleeping
by Bob Moore © 2016
I have trouble every night,
when I try to go to sleep
they say it might be easier,
if I try counting sheep
but the little buggers won’t stand still,
they’re jumping all around
the only ones that I can count,
are lying on the ground
Other people do it,
with sheep which will be good
I’ve seen pictures of them lying there,
the sheep doing as they should
jump the fence, one by one,
land on the other side
my sheep all just run about,
don’t seem to have much pride
And now I’m getting aggravated,
I’ll never get to sleep
I’ve kept my eyes closed really tight,
but now I’ll take a peep
hang on, it now is daylight
the mornings come so soon
guess I’d better get out of bed,
I’ll have a nap this afternoon.
My children are educated and grown
Live a thousand miles from home
A road of books paved their way
Still both read everyday
Passed years were but a score
They were what I was working for
I'd come home in the middle of the night
A little hand would turn on the light
"What are you doing awake?"
"Where have you been,daddy? You're late!"
While fighting back happy tears
From dreamland the other would appear
In the room of the daddy hugs
By the fireplace, on a furry thick rug
Each brought a book and a plea
"Read to me daddy, please?"
As if I were counting sheep
I'd read them back to sleep
Carry them in my arms
Tuck them in safe and warm
I drove a thousand miles
Straight through, just for a smile
Replant them back in tossed beds
To dream of a story we read
Now at night when I read a book
Think about the time that I took
A voice from proud memories
I hear, "Daddy read to me, please."
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
~Moonbeams Gently Cascade~
Watching as the daylight begins
to melt into twilight
Listening for the soft lullaby
the stars would incite
Cradling me in their warm
brilliant effervescent glow
To rock me gently, to their
mesmerizing melody so slow
When these vibrating heavenly
bodies, lull me to sleep
Star dust hangs over me in
forms of counting sheep
Angels sing the lullaby in this
heavenly celestial choir
Stroking oh so softly the purest,
of mankind's desires
Lullaby on a celestial breeze
as my soul it serenades
Drifting off to heaven as
moonbeams gently cascade
2nd place
STRAND SPECIAL 7,any form ,any theme'
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Hush little baby, my little chickadee
Listen you’ll hear the symphony
As I gently rock my baby to sleep
Counting sheep with Little Bopeep
Singing you this lullaby my dear
Whispered softly in your ear
The sun sets with colours of gold
Over swaying fields of marigold
Hush little baby sleep or sing along
With the other angels all night long
Tomorrow the sun will rise with a purr
There will be time for giggles and laughter
But now it’s time for bedtime
So close your little eyes with a rhyme
The sun sets with colours of gold
Over swaying fields of marigold
Let your spirit soar on a breath of love
Dance with the other angels up above
And a one and a two and a three
Let your spirit soar high and free
Rocking gently to and fro
I will see you early tomorrow
Sleep tight my little angel, goodnight
Around on the carousel, goodnight
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on March 7, 2018 for contest LULLABY IN THE SUNSET sponsored by VERMILLION SCYTHE - RANKED 5TH