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Chris Schop Apr 2014
Grandma's in the kitchen today
With a bunch of dough and butter.
I see the dough, so there I stay,
Watching her cut the dough with a cutter.
I knew what she was making now,
A batch of cookies, for the house.
I instantly thought about the 'wows'
Which would come from all over the house.

But as I looked at the cookies,
They seemed to be square, and very thick.
"I know!", I thought with a big smile,
"Grandma's making some bar-cookies!"
So with a big grin, I sat down,
And indulged with joy, not a frown.
A poem about bar-cookies (The square, thick, delicious ones). It's in a form of a sonnet, but it isn't so musical. Or is it?
Chris Schop Apr 2014
Dear white sheep,
On a blue hill,
When was the last time
you ever stood still?

Dear white sheep,
What makes you fluff?
Are you filled with air,
Or perhaps random stuff?

Dear white sheep,
I adore your beauty.
How majestic and cheerful
You are without pity.

Oh, white sheep,
You're a grand show,
Which is free of charge
Until the wind   b      l    o     w      s...

Dear white sheep,
People may know,
But when the wind blows,
Where do you all go?
A letter poem to the white sheep in the skies we see everyday.

Another version of this will come soon.
Chris Schop Apr 2014
Dear white sheep, on the blue hill,
When was the last time you all stood still?
Why do you all go,
When the breezes     b       l    o   w   ?

Dear white sheep, with your majestic looks,
How do you get such wool undescribable in books?
As soft as a pillow, as fluffy as my hair,
Your wool feels softer than the fur of a bear.

Dear white sheep, you never seem to smell,
Your fragrance is a spring breeze, and I can tell.
It isn't a strong scent, but there's a scent for sure,
It's a cool, refreshing scent, and to us it's so pure.

Oh, white sheep, there are so many shows on Earth,
But you put on the best show above this dirt.
It's free of charge, and everyone likes that,
Plus you vary in size and shape in a snap.

Dear white sheep, you always brighten my day,
You entertain me and awe me wherever I lay.
Over the sea, I see the sunset of beauty,
Without you sheep, it wouldn't be so pretty.
Version 2 of "Dear White Sheep".
Chris Schop Apr 2014
Perspectives are bells,
Clanging and clashing,
They ring with different tones
Like those people that yell.

Some people have silver bells,
Those tinkling, happy bells.
Others have grand, golden bells,
All majestic and grateful.

However, some have brass bells,
They shriek at everything in sight.
More boringly, those with iron bells,
Who don't give a crap to anything in sight.

So after reading this,
Don't pick up iron or brass bells.
Get golden, or even silver
bells, as they make the world
Feel a lot better.
This is a metaphor poem, connecting different perspectives to different types of bells.
Chris Schop Apr 2014
Ah, a gorgeous lake!
Smell the tress, taste the water,
***** television!
Another haiku...
Chris Schop Apr 2014
The wind makes a roar,
Pushing sheep on a blue hill,
Warm sunshine all gone.
This is a haiku describing a storm. In case you don't know what the sheep on a blue hill are, they are clouds.

— The End —