New Blithering is where I live,
Some laughs this burb does give,
You can buy plastic sheep here,
Do not know if they are dear,
In a store not far away,
Does a plastic sheep think anyway?
Could it talk in an ovine way?
Indeed, what would a plastic sheep think and say?
"How did we all end up here anyway?"
"I guess we just did, okay?"
I assume a plastic sheep can think and say,
"I hope you have an awesome day!"
trying to
sleep counting
the proverbial fence
leaping endless rainbow
of sheep
passing time
tiredly trying to
induce slumber but
notice
as each
ovine leaps
the next has less
wool then
the one before
so forgetting about
REM now i need see
for sure
how nakedly
shorn if there is
a last one will be
THEY graze in beauty on the land
of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of tamed and tanned
meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus softened with that tender hand
which Shepherd to mild glen compels.
One fleece the more, one spot the less,
had half-possessed the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
that gently whitens o'er their face,
where eyes serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their ovine race.
And on that rump, and o'er that round,
so firm, so strong, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
a drove whose milk is innocent.
"I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;"
. . .
"Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before."
--- from The Tree, by Ezra Pound
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Slender, singular, filamentous fir,
Yellowing larch -- these trees
Do not speak but seem to sleep,
Sheltering skinny sheep
Handily herded -- full-fleeced
In lanolin-laden wool.
Sheep do not sleep much.
They speak their protest --
(Such ineffective baas) --
To cloning and to closeness.
All, doubles of the ovine others,
Crowded among brothers,
Cowering under silent wood:
Dissimilar dark fir;
Lone, yellowing
Larch.
It's nature's way that in the spring
Emotions make a lamb's soul sing
And so it was my young heart found
That love is not by species bound
Well cruelly spent, did cupid's dart
Pierce deep my foolish woolly heart
A wiser sheep would fain desert
Such love unwise and bound to hurt.
Nor was it then that common sense
Came forth to give me sound defence
No matter how well meant and groomed
My ardent love was clearly doomed.
For fate is fickle, fate unkind
Fate unhinged my young sheep's mind
Though strong inside my true love burns
It never wins my love's returns
So ardent burn my ovine fires
Kindling noble deep desires
But I know what e'er I do
That four legs never yet won two
She lives a life I cannot know
And goes to places sheep don't go
I patient wait and hope she'll pass
But know she'll never share my grass.
I know it's doomed, I know I've lost
My passion most unkindly crossed
For even if she knew my heart
I know our lives must stay apart.
But maybe she might scratch my nose
My love troth's a half-eaten rose
With that held in her lovely hand,
To think on, she might understand.
Sometimes when the evening gathers
And the stars come out to graze
I look above into the heavens
Take them in my ovine gaze
I'm not too small yet not to wonder
Though my woolly brain is slow
Are there sheep on other planets
Will one day we somehow know?
If my life had turned out diff'rent
Or if magic transformed me
I'd be aboard a woolly spaceship
Heading out, so I could see
I'd have a sheep shape spacesuit helmet
Curved around my sheepie face
My fame would spread, I'd be on stamps
I'd be the first sheep out in space
I imagine other planets
Many light years off from here
The journey long, but I would make it
Each day just a bit more near
Falling down from alien heavens
My descent both swift and steep
When I landed, when I ventured
Would I find another sheep?
Summers day, river bank stroll
Fields in gold and greens
Only me, the only soul
Walking in natures dreams
Walking under shaded
Wooden towered tree's
As the leaves wave down at me
In the warmed summer breeze
Skylarks,swifts and swallows
Show each other who fly best
Chirping to each other
In their airborne acrobatic best
Meandering river flows
Criscrossing this fine land
A living entity
One of natures awesome finds
Flowering harvests grow
Attracting insects of many kinds
A humming buzzing score
Scented flowers they all find
The baaing of sheep
As the cows all speak the moo
This ovine bovine chorus
Add to this farmland zoo
I stand rock still, as i look around
To absorb, all these wonderful magic sounds
Like staged musicals as many creatures sing
Listen to The Orchestra of Nature
She sure can do her thing.
I wonder what you're thinking
while you are standing there
chewing cud so placidly
I wonder if you care.
What do you think about the sky
when stormy gray or blue
how do you feel about the rain
falling down on you?
What are your thoughts about the field
the grass beneath your feet?
Is it seen as something wonderful
or just wonderful to eat?
Do you ever question why you are
or why you're standing there
or is it just that you accept
the fact that you are here?
Are you speculating why
I watch you standing there
chewing cud so placidly?
I wonder if you care.
There are a lot of farms in the area where I live, especially dairy farms
which was the source of my inspiration for this. RG
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