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Elkhan Asgar Aug 2018
Little shepherd, little shepherd,
Where's  your flock, where's  your herd?
Have you lost them in the fog?
Where's, shepherd, your watchful dog?
- Up there far, faaar away,
On that lane where horses neigh.
Keep on walking a little more,
Take no notice of a bear's roar.
Do not rush now, take it slow,
Before you reach the meadow.
You will see a stocky dog,
That guards my grazing flock.
To a little shepherd boy from Oghuz region of Azerbaijan
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
I
Didn't I walk past ‘cause the
crowds were mushrooming
around the Hajre Aswad.*
As like the rose, it comes
with thorns on the stem.
The most significant stone sits
pulling the biggest crowds.
It makes sense, it rhymes.

A twilight isn't a harsh cut
at the end of a summer day
when it paves the way
for the waxing moon.
No cut is a cut on the way
to the desired noon!

I too thought while the flock
before me was bumping on
the way to the desired one
Let's not me be a disturbing one.
So for then did I walk past
the Hajre Aswad!

II
Are you, are you 360-degrees
on the way to the beloved?
Maybe it’s not you who sway
losing the most at first in this way!

Should you then change your mind
and really do a u-turn
even jump in the water.
Already a lost one you are.
Too little a size you are:
for Jonah's whale just a bite!

Punters swept the way ahead
I too didn’t do a U-turn.
Squeezed, I get caught in the crowd.
In the flow rolling fast and by chance
I kissed the Hajre Aswad.



II
Didn't I reach out to the sky
We know there is no colour
The rainbow is far from the touch.
I just chanced to click a link
that lets you keep on browsing.

There was no colour,
just black: the Hajre Aswad.

Is the black only black though?
Pierce through the black,
the moon gardens
amid the starry honeycombs.
The whole world has seen
blooms only on the
nocturnal black screen!

But did you see at this end
what a sheer beauty prevails
off this black veil?
Hajre Aswad, o my God!
Could it sample? Is there a rose?

IV
Should I ask the rose
that shines the colour of the day?
I can feel it whispers:
Tap into my fragrance
if you can, one might dip in
but I am yet to touch a skin!

The rose whispers:
Below or above, in or out
into a space sooty indeed.
Maths or programming
call it whatever you think.
A colossal solar disk
doesn’t swallow it.

No altitude or latitude here.
You won't see a line
let alone an intersection
on the heart of the matters
the fresco Hajre Aswad!

V
Where do I begin?
How do I give a demo of this, o my God!
How it didn’t need a eye to see.

I didn’t pop into a rosy garden.
It was night and dark indeed.
This a colourless magic
pierces through my lips.
And tints in the heart
what a firework!

Now be it a most spectacular duo
the rose and lapis-lazuli-blue nymph
under the same cloud.
Frankly, it doesn’t matter.
To me now, no colour is a colour!
Since it snuck the light
This on cloud nine
Hajre Aswad the black stone thriller!

VI
I am unable to draw down
is a dwarf under the moon.
Since kind you looked
behind and with your toe
no star saw it, it was worn
like the starless night's swarthy sock.
You opened the door a little
upon the earth at it’s core!

Allah willing, one fine moment,
this eclipse will conk out.
There will be no dark mole
at the night’s core anymore.
The moon and the sun be one persona
basking into your bursting chroma!

The sun will go off the screen
That day it won’t have a rule.
It will be cool swimming in your pool!
Then the voice mine, can’t be swallowed
by the Jonah’s whale no more, no more!
Hajre Aswad: The Black stone in Makkah.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
Eyeing on the night - its out.
Mirroring the colour of the Moon
every star flocks in the sky!

Just spare an eye - maybe the
missing sun keeping an eye out!
For it only fancies the billowy
sea in the black night.
K Balachandran Feb 2018
a fast moving cloud,
soon becomes a flock of birds;
migrants in frenzy!
Àŧùl Jul 2017
The Thames river froze that year,
Ênglish sheep husbandry I tell ya,
The Thirty Years' War continued,
Epic losses to sheep & men alike.

À cataclysmic year for many.

Testing year for **** sapiens,
Ênchanted were the scavengers,
True bounty for dogs & vultures,
Europe almost killed its cultures.
A tête à tête with history.

But human beings are hardy organisms.
They have always recovered from worse.
Most English sheep succumbed to winter that year.

Out of a flock of 20,000 sheep only 35 were left in England that year.

The 30 Years' War (1618 to 1648) that had killed 8 million people overall, had killed many people due to their injuries and the merciless cold.

A retrospective poem reminding the ability of humanity to preserve all life.

The English people had regained much of their sheep flock soon in the 5 years that followed.

My HP Poem #1620
©Atul Kaushal
Denel Kessler Feb 2017
Mirrored silver
tag me blue
reflective sky
widgeon, merganser
blithely sail
broken ripples
foretelling
storm

raucous
cawing crows
assemble
anxious ducks
explode airborne
duly warned
silent drone
fateful wraith

Eagle
glides over
the settling
surface
razor eyes
seeking
the meek
the weak

fleeing flock
coalesces
white bellies
exposed to the sun
banking hard
return to serenity
certain death
deferred

in nature
alliances are clear

predator

prey
vigilantly
warning
relentlessly
defending

Shrieking
crow-beleaguered
Eagle
retreats
no match
for those
united
against him
True story...
: )
Devin Ortiz Dec 2016
As a child, I was blessed
Light skin, in a white world
I had white friends, white teachers
I had white pastors, white family
That was everything that I knew to be

I had some black friends, a black teacher
I had a black pastor, black family
I saw color, I saw the differences
I saw white friends hating my black friends
I saw white teachers demean black students
I saw white christians leave the black pastor
I saw family both white and black love me just the same.

Hate is taught.
But birds of a feather
Flock together
And I flew with any breeze
That would have me.

With wiser eyes
With years behind me,
I've flown with the gentle stream
A birds eye view of an unchanging world
So I've decided to test the current
To soar with broken wings
Famished dreams
Onwards to freedom
Connor Exodus Dec 2015
Spit on me with your mind
And dissect me with your eyes.
Decipher this very self, less
Orientated being that simply exists.

Plunder your skin around
My thoughts without effort or
Worry. Everyday without knowing,
Show harshly, I do not matter.

Lie inside of my ribs, caged
In a blanket of spring. Warm
And numb in a cornucopia
Of love whilst it howls outside.

Please, stop recalling time as
if it is the oxygen you breathe.
We have until the last sheep
verbally dismembers me cold.

I feel I only have a little left.
Yet only a fraction has been
Taken. Hurry, find me, and
allow me to climb out of my brain.
Open to interpretation.
I remember quite distinctly
The night the Angel came
Hovering above my field
And calling me by name

Fred, the Angel yelled to me
Waking all my sheep
I yelled "you stupid ****** twit"
I've just got them to sleep

He said a king was born to man
And I must go to see
I said, "I've got these bleating sheep"
I don't do this for free

The angel said follow the star
All the way to Bethlehem
I told him, you must be ****** daft
My next shift starts at ten

I've been around the world a bit
And I've seen a lot of stunts
But this angel hung right in the air
And his wings did not flap once

He said there is a child
And he will be the King of Kings
I didn't really listen much
I was still watching those **** wings

The sheep were going batty
The field was bight as bright could be
I said, of all the shepherds round here
Why did you come wake me?

He said to travel swiftly
And to follow yonder star
I said, I'm off to bed mate
I'm not going on that far

Then there came a bolt of lightning
He had barbecued a ewe
I thought this bird means business
I mean just what could I do?

I left my flock with Charlie
The shepherd two fields over one
And I said I'll be back soon mate
I'm off to see the holy son

I met up with some others
All of us had the same tale
Of an angel flinging lightning
So we all felt we best bail....

I got there in December
I'd been travelling for months
The only thing I thought of
Those wings...did not move once

There inside a manger
behind an inn...full up each day
Was where I saw a vision
I'll remember to my last day

Three wise men dressed in robements
A little kid, and his tin drum
Some donkeys and a camel
The baby Jesus and his mum

Dad, was in the corner
All alone hanging his head
He said "How could this have happened"
"I never left the bed"

I looked upon the baby
And I looked down upon that face
He looked at me and smiled
You could feel a state of grace

I really didn't know then
What I was here to do
But, now I know my task was
To tell everyone I knew

So, I started out on homeward
To tell old Charlie of the kid
I picked him up a present
Yep..that's exactly  what I did

I guess the world must owe me
and this I 'll stand and shout
You could consider my gift to Charlie
Was the first true  gift given out

Now, I sit and watch the sheep here
People come up just to see
The shepherd who started gifting
The shepherd...that is me!!!
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