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Best Poems Written by Lee Leon

Below are the all-time best Lee Leon poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lee Leon Poem

The Sheep Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all were asleep,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a sheep.
The cattle were snoozing, the pigs were at rest
And the chickens were settled asleep on the nest.

Apart from some snoring the night air was still,
Untroubled, unwaking, unstirring, until
A sound of hooves halting, a clatter and crash
And a sound like a cart without wheels going "Smash!"

From fluffy cloud nightmares and dreamings absurd,
Inside and awaking, white woolly heads stirred
And knowing that something was out on the deck,
All cautious and fearful, they went out to check.

Out there on the snow without reason or why,
A sledge had been left which had just ceased to fly.
A man dressed in red had gone off to the phone.
The sledge and its cargo were parked there alone.

The sheep ventured out to explore in accord,
Sniffed at the sledge and then each climbed aboard,
Ignoring the reindeer all harnessed and tied,
The sledge was, most strangely, much bigger inside.

There were mailbags and boxes and cartons of stuff,
There were baubles and booze and cushions of fluff,
There were maps too and letters and lists sealed with wax,
There were hundreds and hundreds of bulging red sacks.

The contents they sniffed at but found them no good,
They were toys made of plastic, of metal, and wood,
But searching much further they found at the back,
With a different aroma, a battered old sack.

Not tied with red ribbon, no parcels inside,
The sheep nosing round nudged the sack open wide
And all looked upon, peering over the edge,
Carrots and turnips and other such veg.

Fortune was smiling, a great happenstance:
This heaven delivered production of plants.
A large and assorted rich vegetable stash
Was just what was needed for their Christmas bash.

One sheep keeping lookout, the others pursued
The cunning extraction of their bag of food;
Though bulky and heavy, they dragged it away
Off to the barn and all hid beneath hay.

Inside the outhouse, the sheep lying low
Could hear Father Christmas beyond in the snow
Offering kids' toys instead to his team,
Getting frustrated and letting off steam:

"Come lads, be good, there's a job we must do.
There’s a guaranteed nosebag when finally through.
Rudolph, look here, is there nothing you'd like?
There’s no carrots now, but would you like a bike?"

"Dasher and Dancer, a train set for you?
Prancer and Vixen, a dolls house might do?
Comet and Cupid? No, not you as well?
Donner and Blitzen and damn it to Hell!"

It mattered not how much the fat red chap pled,
The reindeer weren't moving until they'd been fed.
It mattered not how much the fat red chap cursed,
The sheep before Christmas had gotten there first.

So, if on awaking, you find you're aware
Of festive forsaking, that no one's been there
And lacking filled stockings and presents and such
The sheep are all sorry, but not very much.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

When Sheep Collide

'Tis strange where we should get the notion
That poetry expressed in motion
Should within the human form reside.
When nature gives us many chances
Unpractised and ephemeral dances
Like in a muddy field when sheep collide

Truth is, that nature's not so humble
And doesn't mind the dancer's stumble
There's nothing that it ever seeks to hide
Uncaring it leaves all revealed
And is not shamed if one small field
Has crazy sheep and one long muddy slide

They're mad, they're bad, they're having fun
Those naughty sheep and every one
Is doing what convention has denied
The hillside's muddy, wet and slick
With crazy sheepies sliding quick
Down to the bottom, down where sheep collide.

Many count good nature's fare
The birdsong and the country air
Among the wonders of the countryside
But strange delight can yet be found
In woolly bodies sliding round
A simple muddy field where sheep collide.

While nature guides celestial spheres
In cosmic dances, it appears,
With majesty the earthborn are denied
Down far beneath in mud and grass
A sheep slides on its woolly a***:
A sense of fun, though not a sense of pride.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Where Has Dad Gone, Mama Dear

Where has dad gone, momma dear?
Hush, my little lamb.
Your dad's gone to the thicket dear 
And mad old Abraham

That man went early this grim morn, and took his sharpened knife
And with him took his own first born, to offer up his life
With servants and with firewood, both, they journeyed to Moriah
And on the hillside there they built an altar and a fire

And Isaac, when he heard the plan, went willingly, it's odd
That he should let that daft old man, so worship his cruel god.
Your father, he was passing by, and heard but could not see
And foolishly could not deny his curiosity

So closer did your father scramble peering through the thorns
Unaware of how the brambles tangled with his horns
Just to see a crazy man who planned to kill his kin
Your father did not understand the danger he was in

For then again that mad old man started hearing voices
His god was speaking to the loon and giving him new choices
And so his plan to slay the boy came about to falter
And Abraham, he took your pa and dragged him to the altar

But that was never fair, mama, can you tell me why
When Isaac he was all prepared and well prepared to die
And all had been decided on, so what cruel trick mama
Was played upon that grand old ram, who was my own papa?

Life is not fair, my little lamb, nor is it like to change
And fate plays tricks on all of us, both sinister and strange
So you take care, my little lamb, with this advice from me 
Do not visit places where you know you should not be

The moral of this story dear, is take heed of the odds
And stay away from two-leggies worshipping their gods

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Dancing Sheep

When the pen has lost its way
When ideas and ink run dry
Leave the desk and turn away
Take what wings you have and fly
Leave facts and figures on the page
Free your dreams from fettered sleep
And let them take you from the stage
To floating fields and dancing sheep.

For all we are is never told
Nor ever measured by the eye
Mostly unseen we just grow old
And no one sees us passing by
We are the tethered fantasy
Most of the time we do not care
For most of what the others see
Is only what we choose to wear

But in the mind's eye's overview
We see the parts, the acts we play
We know the scripts we follow through
Just waiting for the perfect day
And maybe, one untroubled night,
We'll quietly wish upon a star
And in that moment's grip, we might,
Have just a glimpse of who we are.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

The Sheep Stood On the Burning Deck

The sheep stood on the burning deck, when all but he had fled 
Someone had placed the captain's hat upon his woolly head 
So bravely stood the sheep upon his first and last command 
Promoted to high station and to duty's dire demand. 

Beyond the ship to starboard, he surveyed the churning sea 
And the crew, all in their lifeboats, working furiously, 
To gain a good safe distance, they rowed both fast and well 
So they would not go down with the ship beneath the final swell. 

Comes the moment, comes the sheep and, as the captain on the deck, 
The sheep stood in command, but with a rope tied round his neck 
As the waves came lapping up and all the flames went dying down 
It sank beneath the waves with the sheep and his proud crown.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

No Entry Wound

No entry wound; I know inside
What should be whole is broken
Between the cracks my feelings slide
Where words cannot be spoken

Strange silence speaks within the gloom
Where memories keep taunting
A ghost sits in a lonely room
With no desire for haunting

Where once before I used to go
When I was whole and stronger
I cannot meet there with my woe
So I shall go no longer

I have no need to venture out
No wish to do so fills me
For I am empty and the doubt
Of any fullness stills me.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Sheep's Lament

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.

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Sheep of the Apocalypse

The sundown shroud of evening fell
To settle on the city's wreck
Of buildings broke by wicked spell
Called by fate's destructive beck.

And from afar they saw the shapes
Stark, bleak against the red sunset
The ruined outlined cityscapes
Unknown misfortune met.

The country folk had little need
And rarely ventured to the smoke
But still they could not but take heed 
And wonder how those buildings broke.

So, from afar they wondered at
What strange calamity befell
The city that had been so great
But what they couldn't tell

A strange flock from the west emerged
The sunset blooded red their fleece
Had some uncanny demiurge
A flock of demon sheep released?

But, no, they were just simple sheep
That somehow seemed to be astray
Unanswered though the questions creep
To where the flock had been that day

The strangest tales are oft untold
And sealed before the tale's begun
Since they had sneaked out from the fold
What dark deeds had those sheepies done?

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Oggwool Fleece

In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock

Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.

The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.

Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will 
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.

From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide

He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)

He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds

Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece

The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!

Details | Lee Leon Poem

Eldritch

We skate the frozen face of reality
Above the deep dangerous dark
We make our superficial marks
Not too deep
For fear The Dark will mark us
And visit