the loneliest of nights,
the loneliest of days.
the loneliness of gods,
the loneliness of strays.
Lost sheep are hard to count,
they appear most in an unlived life,
bleating at the distant edge
of a storm.
Often there are too many voices,
all speaking
from the same cramped space.
He has to listen, while the sheep
encircle,
they have disjointed minds,
the babble drains him
as he sleeps.
Eventually
a window breaks the night,
stray thoughts
plod away one by one.
He needs wool for his comb,
a washed face in an unwashed mirror
must be masked,
the mind gathered in from its
nocturnal wanderings.
He will bind both ears tightly
to the rooted earth.
Though we will never meet
she enters my dreaming mind
walks into a room for two
and I know she is mine forever.
Guardian angel, Guardian Goddess,
Guardian reader?
Nope, she's a dog,
a saggy jowled Blood Hound
I name Betty.
We walk the wooded ways,
we spend the days in any weather,
alone with nature.
One day she will be human
and maybe I the dog,
so until we are put down
or raised up
we will travel side by side,
then perhaps
we will reincarnate together,
as real as any Disney cartoon
only better.
I ama man that strays
I know for sure that's me
I realise I should change my ways
But free I want to be
My current girlfriend
Has asked if I'm sincere
When I say I love her
The answers no, I fear
I thought I loved her
But that was yesterday
Until I met someone else
And she caused me to stray
Because I loved her yesterday
I know she still loves me
And she is hearing wedding bells
This makes me want to flee
Since she was my first love
If only for a day
There's such a big field out there
I want to go and play
Even though I know this
I don't mean any harm
If girls fall in love with me
It's because of my handsomeness and charm
It's no good you asking
If we can give love another try
There's only one thing left to say to you
I bid you well. GOODBYE
?No Sheep Ever Strays
She wanted to be
Hallowed part of history
Fight for you and me.
Land where all agree
God made her so we can see
To success is key.
Pray down on our knees
Equalize societies
And God always please.
From life remove fees
Have warm breeze blow through the trees
That removes the freeze.
We are sheep that graze
And when God we always praise
No sheep ever strays.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Soldier and Poet
She is in the habit of collecting strays
Kitty and doggy don't mix very well
It won't be long before she's all tears
Did i say she loves hosting them strays
It won't be that long and she's all tears
Alley dog who models matted coat,
Incensing clothiers at Fifth and Main--
You have no proof you are a legal dog.
One day you knew the power that you are.
Beneath a stack of cast off tires you saw,
You felt, you tasted in a dumpster's steam.
So now you strut through uptown parking lots.
Dog, in a paved field sniffing, please beware
Of skies with signs that hide your ritual moon.
The warden comes to rid the streets of strays,
Incarcerates you, pending no appeal
And executes you for the common good.
Someone has to own you, otherwise
You get the gas. Your crime is being born
Where being does not count, but owning does.
And when they catch you--be assured they will--
And bind your miracle with lethal law,
Bite them for this mongrel poet, too.
Many abandon their pets under the delusion that they.
will comfortably live their lives in their natural wild way,
but unseen they suffer.
Unheard they cry.
In agony they linger.
In lonliness they die.
Ride brush,
stray search.
Sit high,
leather perch.
Lasso thrown,
dally wrapped.
Wind howls,
brim flapped.
Chaps warm,
gloved hand.
Twenty years,
ride brand.
Spurs jingle,
double rowel.
Heading home,
round corral.
By Jim "Ish" Fellers
Copyright ©: August 06, 2003
Wednesday @ 1:40 a.m.
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