There was once a sheep and a dragon. The dragon loved the sheep very much, more than she loved herself, but the dragon could never express her love because she was afraid she might hurt the sheep. You see, sheep and dragons don't belong together. If the dragon were to breathe fire on the sheep's wool by accident the sheep would die. If the dragon accidentally stepped on her sheep, she would never see his handsome smiling face again, and what good would that be? So the dragon cried and cried.

Then there was the sheep. Sheep loved dragon too, but none of his sheep friends thought that he would be cool if he married a dragon. They would make fun of him, call him names and his parents would shun him. The sheep knew that the dragon could hurt him but he wasn't worried, he would wrap himself in something that wasn't flammable and he would be sure never to walk underneath the beautiful dragon. The problem was, the sheep couldn't figure out if he loved his family or Dragon more.  So he went to seek help from the wise Turtle.

Turtle lived very far from sheep, but sheep thought that the walk was worth it to find out what he should do. When he arrived at Turtle's house, he was invited in for tea and Oreos. After the small snack, Sheep got right to business and he told Turtle his predicament. Turtle laughed and shook his tiny, Turtle head. "My child," Turtle said "If you really loved Dragon, everyone else's thoughts wouldn't be important. Prove to her that she matters." Sheep shook his head. Turtle hadn't solved his problem at all! "You are NO help you crazy old turtle," yelled Sheep. And he stormed out.

A day or so later Dragon went to see wise old Turtle too. She told Turtle about how she felt about sheep. Again, the wise (and now crazy) Turtle laughed. He thought that young kids didn't understand true love. "Let go of your insecurities Dragon. Sheep loves you and he accepts everything about you, he loves the fire that you breathe, even though it can burn him sometimes and he loves your big feet even though they can stomp him sometimes." The Dragon went home thinking about what Turtle had told her.

A week later Sheep and Dragon went together to see Turtle. Sheep apologized for being so rude before and said that he thought about what Turtle said and realized that he was right. Sheep loved Dragon and that was all that mattered. Dragon blushed red, like the fire she breathed. Turtle turned toward Dragon and asked her what she had learned. Dragon said she learned that even though she may be insecure about some things, she shouldn't let that get in the way of being happy with someone that she loves. Turtle laughed for that last time in this story and said, "Love is a funny thing, sometimes we don't always see what is there" with that being said, Dragon and Sheep ran away to live happily ever after.

NEVER MIND WHAT THE ****** SHEEP ARE SAYING!

First sheep to second sheep:
"Maaaa!"

which with
subtitles on

comes out as
"He just hasn't got his grandfather's legs!"

Second sheep to first sheep:
"Baaaa!"

Thank God for subtitles
"No...nor the Sheedy stamina!"

And indeed I have
inherited none of these famous attributes.

I, a shortsighted
puny bookworm

not taking to
this cross-country running lark.

The famous runner doesn't run
in my side of the family.

Early morning spiderwebs
bejewel the furze bushes.

A cuckoo calls.
Sheep bleat.

I recite poetry
to the yellow furze

passing slowly by me
I madly in love with Hopkins' words.

"I caught this morning(puff pantpANT!)
morning's(aghhhhh!)glory...!"

"Oh jaysus...he's off on the poetry again!"
first sheep moans to second sheep.

"Poetry at his age..I just don't get it!"
Second sheep bemoans the fact.

I pay no attention to this
sheep commentary.

Hurl Hopkins
at the world.

Slog through the pain
and mud.

"Nothing is so
(gaspgASP!)beautiful as Spring -" I yell!

I become a dot in the distance
of this misty Curragh morning.

Run on into the blue
of these my teenage times.

"The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush          
With richness;"


"Bè bè" first sheep
to second sheep in Dutch.

"Meh meh!" second sheep
to first in Japanese.

So the sheep I see
are studying foreign languages.

But I don't hear them
and anyway

someone's turned
the subtitles off.

The moon looms over the night sky
Peeking silently through the curtains of my window.
And although the hours pass
My eyelids are yet to grow heavy.

Desperate for rest, I reach for the depths of my mind.
I know! I shall count sheep.
An odd and childish choice.
But I shall count myself some sheep to sleep.

The herd gathered in my mind and ran for the fence
An endless stream of four legged clouds.
Each sheep jumped the fence
And I count them out aloud.

One sheep, Two sheep, Three sheep
The herd never grew thin
Four sheep, Five sheep, Six sheep
But I would not fall asleep.

There would be more than enough sheep to count
Maybe it would just last me ‘till morning.
I wanted to stop
But the sheep only kept coming.

So, I count my sheep aloud
While the night keeps passing.
The pasture filled with sheep
For the whole night I’ll be counting.

En route from Dharmapuri
To Krishnagiri
Amid the tamarind trees
There goes a flock of sheep

Shaking heads
Jumping merrily
Hither and thither

Behold!  there, one man becomes
A flock of sheep

Evolving in to
A black little lamb,
A mother sheep munching on paper
And a goat kicking another one
Among the group

There! a flock of sheep
That has turned in to a man!

Where on earth
Are you?
Wails the flock of sheep
Bleating be..........be......teasingly
Tongue brushing  ear lobes
with ruminating saliva

Beside that flock of sheep,
Dragging along a wounded right leg,
Staring at the sky
Standing transfixed,
The shepherd was the other person

He was a memory
Of having been a flock of sheep once...
On each path he treads
A thousand flocks of sheep passes
In joy and mirth

Despite being poor at herding
The one who happened to stop by
Bumping on a lamb that fell down

The photostat of a goat
With burned legs

Lying in the womb of a pregnant sheep
He is sleeping...

Looking at each bird
That flew across the sky
He laments
That they are his lost sheep
Beckoning the crows, sparrows and parrots

The birds in turn fly away
Frightened
As though seeing a hunter

The stick he held
Was mistaken for an arrow
Piercing the ground

His prayers,
Not to let them fall
In to the lakes of the sky
Was blocked by the clouds...

En route from Dharmapuri
To Krishnagiri
Amid the tamarind trees
There, goes a flock of sheep
There, a shepherd  !

I was in the throws of slumbers wakening my eyes
yearned for that moment of total tranquillity.

But pennies dropped in to my vacant pools as each
Rippled on the Edges of my eyes sleep gathered on
each corner and I once again blinked into endless
Whirlpools of thought that asked the same question

"Why can I not sleep,

I played with the shadows that played like children
In a sandpit but this wasn't the sandman's dust, no
It was the sand that gets in every crack. Washing it
Out of those place that need closing but always a grain
Irritating that place that never quite closes complete.

"I know I'll count sheep,

"What shall I get them to jump over?
"How many is too little, to much to count in sleep,

"One sheep.
"Two sheep,
"Three sheep,

Why was that one black? it looked at me with intent.
It wanders around my thoughts eating on the grass
Of my sleep deprived fears.

"Baaahhh,
"Baaahhh,
"Listen to me,

What the hell is going on, an imaginary sheep in  
Onyx wool is talking to me?

"Slumber is death and I will keep you from it,

"I need this sleep to recharge batteries gone cold,

I think for a moment is this sycosis of not dreaming
Of eyes on full beam. Even though the bulb extinguished
Three hours before but I see the light in front of me.

This lamb chop of thought, this claustrophobic intent
It blankets my eyes. Yet my eyes see all that flickers
In nights shroud of eternal awakening.

"Stop you noise, of hooves echoing in my eyes,

"Why not let me rest like the dead in peace,

It jumps once again faster, louder till like thunder
Clapping and the light is darkness keeping me awake.
I scream at nothing, at everything then I sit silent.

"Hello an good morning and welcome,
" Its your 7AM wake up tune of the day,

I jolt backwards in confused glare, I'm a deer in
Headlights of obscured thought?
What the? all a dream of ill winds confusion. I gather
Myself and rehearse the  night and find that this was
But a nightmare gleam, I think out loudly a music
Sings in a background of thought.

"One sheep.
"Two sheep,
"Three sheep,

Ill never let you in my dream, I'll count myself lucky
If I  never count those counting sheep ever again in
A psychedelic sleep deprived theme.

A POSEY OF SHEEP

She a butterfly
in her little blue dress

chasing butterflies
blowing bubbles after them.

Butterflies and bubbles
skitter here and there.

Her "flying flowers"
as she names them.

One b one by one she
picks wildflowers.

They blossom in her fist
losing more than she collects.

I take the ribbon from her hair
tie them tightly in place.

"I have a garden
in my hand!"

She runs and runs and runs
as only a little girl can

joy and speed
fused together in her.

And when she returns
her petals have all gone.

She holds only stalks
in her hand

flowerless flowers.

"Shhhhh!" I shush her sobbing.
"Look what you have found!"

And I let perspective
take a hand/

On each stalk now
a sheep replaces petals.

The sheep unaware that they
have become surreal flowers

only existing
at a certain angle.

Who cares if they are not real.
It's the seeing that matters.

She holds a posey
of sheep.

I tell her they are
flowers made of magic.

On the far away hillside
sheep still safely graze.

And when she moves and
finds them "GONE!"

I reposition her and
there they are.

"Hold  still!" I tell her
and pick each sheep

pocket them
mind them for her.

Happy once again she
runs and runs and runs

clutching her precious stalks
in a tiny hand.

All her imaginary sheep
tucked up in her mind

possibly for ever
if not

longer.