"baaing" poems
HALF A POUND OF INSOMNIA WITH A LARGE DOLLOP OF TIREDNESS ON TOP
Sleep lies languidly
upon the chaise longue.
I sit uncomfortably in
an old wicker chair.
We stare at each other.
Say - nothing.
Neither of us
blinks.
I have counted exactly
two thousand and 2....3. . .
sheep.
They fill up the room
with a loud baaing.
There is no grass in the room.
But I am more awake
than ever.
Sleep and I
do not see eye to eye.
Sleep annoyed by now
goes to the window
where even the moon is
dreaming.
A hill
long gone.
Trees snore
their breath rustling their leaves.
"Why do I always
have this trouble with you?"
Sleep snaps
without looking at me.
I try to change
the subject.
"I didn't know you
could manifest like this?"
I venture for the sake
of the argument.
"Oh no...now you've gone
and trapped me in a poem!"
In the early hours
of the coming day
even Sleep
falls asleep.
I yawn
exaggeratedly .
Hum KLF's
"It's three am eternal!"
Each of the now 2000 and 4...5
join in
with a tuneless
baaing.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 5:06 AM UTC
I wish I could be like...
A tiger blazing through the jungle
or a wolf in a pack howling at the moon
or a duck hawk diving for the ****
Instead I am like...
The orphaned elephant soon to be killed by a lion
or a wildebeest crushed in a stampede
or a sheep, baaing pathetically, before being sheared.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
You are the shepherd and I am the sheep
following blindly wherever you lead
my feet feel green grass or the sharp stones in streams
or streets and raw pavements and trash-in-a-heap
You feed me no food for you give me no heed
whether baaing or bleating; my stomachs all bleed
but you are the shepherd and I am the sheep
so I'll keep by your side while you feed her a feast
You, shephered beloved, are shepherd besotted
by she and her serious set of pleas and now, pleases
She'll never be pleased with your idyll ideal
but you- are the shepherd and I am the sheep.
Sheep keep by their shepherds through streams, storms and steep hills,
sheep sleep keeping their shepherds warm with their sheepswool,
sheep weep with their shepherds when shepherds don't feel well,
sheep keep being sheep, sheep are truer than people!
You! You're the shepherd, and I am the sheep.
Now are you beginning to see what I mean?
Ruminate wisely on what you have now learned,
because I, sheep, am waiting to join your white herd.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
The Gamers on their consoles
sporty juveniles and adolescent matures
The Liars are as per usual giving it the burn
The warped Politicians always in the murky throes
The sheep will always be baa baa baaing all day and night
that's all they do except when they gambol hopping and skipping
To the twisted obsessives its become their raison d'être what else here
The realist, truth-seeker and grounded sages know
the rules of the game is there are no rules to chase
what bars honest fellowship but dishonesty
what stops genuine acts but dis-ingenuity
Truths never know fear to reach out
A real angel knows the numbers
of all the stars in the sky
and can touch the crown
If its real, if its real, if its real
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
Dense illumination glows beneath contempt
underserving to even be dignified
by cancellation
shinning base ignorance affecting enlightenment
is the gamekeeper turned poacher
but its more
the little man with the long fronted Cadillac
its all a front in compensation
for the micro appendage
the charlatan sage in narcissistic fix fervour
the recognised contemptible ablaze
the lion sheep of sheep
baa baaing in Latin
Jul 12, 2022
Jul 12, 2022 at 8:12 PM UTC