Short Bleats Poems

One grand diner
hear them bleats
crummy man enters....

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Blood, divine and sweet,
Swigging on vampiric tastes,
Victims, screams and bleats....

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He bleats as sheep
After a bottle of beer
The owl eye restless
Tell a thousand tales...

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a scarecrow smiles,
an infant sneers
a lion bleats, 
a lamb growls
thieves chase the police,
pea-hens strut feathers n’ dance
everything is topsy-turvy~
in sync with the times!...

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This thunderous rain, for spite
Shocks on first hearing
Know the hour of it already
Will then be nearing.

Gently, all senses beguile.
Earth, child-like, renewed.
Bubbly flashes; bleats, as slick by.
As joyous pursued....

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Don't call it a carry-on
  It may not fit under a seat
Nor an overhead bin item
  Loose -- it rattles, bleats and repeats

You might well ask airlines
  Their fee for a walking cane...
Why, there's no charge at all; they're free
  They're what? ~ Are airlines gone insane?...

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A lion roars, a mule brays
   A lamb frolics, a horse neighs

A dog barks, a wolf howls 
   A snake hisses, a bear growls

A calf bleats, a rooster crows  
   A moose bellows, an ox lows
 
A turkey gobbles, a cow moos
   A mosquito buzzes, a pigeon coos

A cat meows, a nightingale sings
   An alarm clock rings ~ Dawn takes wing...

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The destructive arrows was shot into the air
And the air cracked and things fall apart.
The power sector dismantled ,and 
The economy seized.
Humans are slaughtered in may ham
every where in the street by human goat.
Fowls are not seen street any more,
whilst the goats bleats no more .
the country has fallen into pieces
Who shall be our messiah in the long run...

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I was scolded for littering an orange peel.
I and this couch and an iguana melt.
I am longing for things to be more than real.


She blushes like a child in an autumn fog.
She bleats to scare winter from the ridge of her nostrils.
She grows like a berrypatch in moonlight, after the thaw.


He is my friend’s iguana there.
He looks comfy on the couch.
He only wants to feel good....

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Listen to poem:

The little linger, the wee wee wait-a-while,
says it all wordlessly, unwieldy:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
with distinct possibilities of a bow-out clause.
I can see and smell the stench of doubt
as you look away, 
breaking our eye-to-eye contact.
That tiny delay is your way of saying it,
without saying it in words.
You, the soothsayer-in-silence bleats:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
Listen!...

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Wake up, Wake up
  You who slumber and sleep
    Wake up
    Return whence you came

  Jarring, dissonant
  The ram's horn bleats
    thirty, forty, one-hundred 
    unencumbered blasts

  A simple device, no frills
  the breath of a ram
    caught in a thicket
    magnified through its horn

  It is the voice of Abraham
  The cry of Sarah
    The breathing heart of Isaac
      ~ It is the cry of a Jew...

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The lion roars 
			while the lamb bleats.
He paces and prowls,
	savoring the kill.

I would like to roar. 
	I hate this bleating.
I want to see them 
	quaking in fear.

I have not the claws
	to rip and tear,
nor teeth to devour
	the roaring lion.

So I must be wise
		and follow the Shepherd 
who slays the beast
		and gives me rest.

I need not bleat
	but praise the one
who causes the lion 
	to lie down by the lamb....

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I saw God 
Over a shattered mirror
Fragments of my mind 
Echoes of spoken promises

I saw God again
In the depths of the pool
Crystal clear,ocean blue
Bubbles of the swimming pool

I did not see God
On the walls
Painted with the blood and tears of men
Adorned with the sacrifices of withered hands

I saw God 
In the tears of a lamb
Innocence etched in his crushed eyes
Bleats of pain,of crushed pain

I saw God 
But who is he?...

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a question was raised
but pure heart unfazed
forever tranquil 
had relinquished will
and so the response
held in bliss beat sconce 
was benign and kind
that souls be aligned
by feeling heartbeats
of unvoiced love bleats
making them soul’s own
and with love so hone
that boundaries blur
head and heart concur 
aboard God’s bliss boat
in joyous free float
wherein the question
ego did mention
now takes a backseat
heeding pure love’s tweet...

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Numbers have a lasting smell
while figures have a taste
Shapes can make an ancient sound
whose feelings stay untraced     

Intuition grants a wish
to those who rebegin  
Dimension in the blackest hole
new dwarf stars from within

Counting up or counting down
deception stays the same
What you gain or what you lose
redundant in the game

Endings come and endings go
ephemerally despised
Until the sacrificial lamb
—bleats out the final lie

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)...

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