Silenced like a strayed sheep,
With no place to go,
All my friends in the heap,
Are strangers that I know.
They see my pain and move on,
In a line and in a row,
All my friends in the heap,
Are strangers that I know.
We shared sun and rain,
Stayed like arrow & bow,
All my friends in the heap,
Are strangers that I know.
We gather in groups
many to be sequestered as
strayed sheep
Haunted and shunned
by the societies we love
Who can we turn to
to ease the burning pain
of neglect and asylum
Who is our border collie
the light to wrestle us in
against the turmoil of everyday life
But still we stay strong
as it is human nature to endure
and lift ourselves above the suffering
So even though we strayed
we still love and have matured
to rise above the darkness that prevails
Along the roads of grassy fields
where thousands of sheep flit from
Astray from the flock, flouting,
fleeing with fear
blindly following.
Driven through the streets of London
at the Barnet fair to the farmers there.
But the way, takes an insalubrious plot.
Sheer confusion along the countryside
sets in on the herd, then stray
when eddying rapids currented by the tide
and force of the streams give, taken
to an endless frequent float
for great distances steered, stirred
while the timorous turn 'round.
An endeavor to gain the place they set off
As along ancient grassy drove road lies,
weary shepherd and his sheepdog.
Drovers, some on the hoof
The sheep shall stray
back to stay presently in Eden's garden
Jade-green grassy hills of harvest gold,
and cerulean skies.
Straying away from the straight path
in search of sumptuous grass,
Me and my friends meander to the mountain top
on a crisp clear sunny day,
The cottony white clouds mirror our soft tufts of wool,
The sea is calm today, unlike us, who are restless;
Raff rests his weary head on Walter,
Sophie and Sara lay down side by side,
While Nero dares to stare at the 'deserter' in defiance...
We don't know where to go, what to do,
And so we wander around,
What if we fall down the ravine?
I am scared and edge back,
Whereas Nero and Terry fearlessly forage for food,
Browny wishes to follow them against my warning,
Most of my friends group together,
What next? Where is our leader?
I don't know, we have no idea,
We're all looking for our lost shepherd to lead us...
...back to safety
Reigning in cluster the edge of steep scarp,
the flock of mine sprawls so very proud.
I’m a meek loner in the midst of them all,
for each one is happy to be in the crowd.
As I’m secluded in a ditch of sequestration,
the kinship camaraderie they show with flair.
For my innate nature I’m often jeered,
since their line of subservience I don’t tow.
In their group I’m the strayed one,
my own person, I’m the odd one.
I’m branded as an aberrant madcap,
for in my candid way I’m like none of them.
Life for me isn’t shaped for fitting in,
it’s about standing outside the heap.
In my clan a black sheep I’ve been,
making the deviant otherness unique.
The scene of cliff, coast and a flock of sheep,
a view of the blue ocean, sky, and wild mossy cliff;
where sheep have strayed, too bewildered to leap,
they stand, sleep, or sit among wildflowers and sniff.
It was a case of follow the other perhaps in the rain,
the painting by the artist is so gorgeous and vivid;
now, for some sheep strength has begun to wane,
others bleep, bleep for help quite distressed and livid.
Though they create a lovely view they are defenceless,
they don't need a cliff but need a lush meadow green;
oh, why did they wander so far, it is senseless ?
Yes, true the artist captured a colourful, detailed scene.
As fear deepens in them the sheep groups are tightened;
for me the painting is layers of color and of sheep frightened.
STRAYED SHEEP
Today, we are all as strayed sheep
Once together, and of one mind
All have wandered and separated
Finding independence is overrated
Common values become conflated
To such a life, many are resigned
With different memories to keep
What is family, it’s a difficult question
All spread across the world we know
Linked merely by digital conversation
Different definition of a close relation
Who is really part of a congregation
Lifetime bonds are at an all time low
Popular activities the main congestion
Some may still remember the flock
A safety in numbers, a common goal
Yet by many, now often seen as quaint
Comfortable memories becoming faint
For some, group identity is a constraint
Over time, disassociation takes its toll
And finding oneself alone is a shock
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...?
Where is the shepherd
Who left behind his livestock
At the Lover's Seat?
The hired hand sleeps
Inattentive to the flock
The sheep go their way
They are unaware
There is danger near the cliffs
Though the grass is sweet
Where is the Shepherd
Will he retrieve his people
From the Sinner's Seat?
One of their own had wandered far;
the others know it strayed away.
From the high cliff, they stare and wait
for the lone sheep that went astray.
Yet there below, alone, he roams
perhaps a longing to be free;
find newer roads for a better life
upon the path along the sea.
Sometimes it's best to leave the road
outlined as stable with the crowd;
to be the one that stands apart-
and travel avenues unplowed.
To travel avenues unplowed
and concentrate on finding one;
become that stubborn lone lost sheep
to pave new paths still left undone.
They wander,
free range sheep,
Following a breeze,
a wafting scent
Clover…perhaps
More likely the innate call
To roam
In search of themselves.
Freedom,
a dubious destination
As jagged cliffs
O’erlook the crushing surf
Escape
An unknown dream
For wind and tide
And nature
Call them
Home.
Walk on by as I sit upon a ledge of self-destruction.
I seek no sympathy, just a hand to hold and to pull me from the edge.
I am deserving Aren't I?
Those so-called words they forcefully allege
Stepping forward by myself
Never will I follow the leader, But this I will instead,
Lead my own path that's right for me
A life lived astray I pledge
I see the sea.
The odds at sea,
Sound’s Greek to me.
As the channel frees
a shepherd abandons
his flock shone a barren
headland aloof promised land
were wild vegetation
grows thick as wool.
Color blindness tame
the wolves, convince
the sheep transcend
and stay for a while.
There will be peace
up on the headlands
now and up till ...
"Big Ben renamed: Eiffel Two
Decadence at Windsor Palace
Wolves in sheep wool
Decadent Palace of Versailles
Sheep in wolf's fur."
~~~IDYLLIC: Rumours Of Wars~~~
I've been a wanderer, strayed bird
venturing from branch to branch
now i lodge in a enchanting nest
Oh! Lord how hard I've prayed
(But I kept on goin' the wrong way)
I've have gone too many miles
(away from home, away from home)
Oh! Lord I've strayed too many
(miles away from my own home)
Oh! Lord will you help a poor lost sheep?
(Back into your fold, back into your fold)
Oh! Lord will you leave the safe ninety-nine
(that are safe and secure in the sheep fold)
And cumin' rescue me. I've been a poor
little lamb that has lost his way!
Oh! Lord am I still saved after that
(salvation pray I'd pray as a mere
lad) Or am I lost for an eternity?
(Lord I don't know which
way to go, way to go)
Lord you know the right way to go
Oh! Lord will you take me by
my hand and lead me to
(your heavenly promise
land) Maybe there I
can finally become a man?
Your prodigal son has
(decided to follow you)
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
February 08, 2921
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