"sheppard" poems
Rebel Against Rebellion
I have nothing to prove
No creeds, no doctrine to upkeep
We all have so much freedom when we close our eyes
And just think
Maybe you need to humble yourself enough
To lose
Rebel Against Rebellion
Because they're all just books
Your sword is looking pretty dull sir
Why are you so inclined to hurt?
Thought your prophet preached LOVE?
So repeat words
Choose what you choose
Choose wisely
Because soon the snake will stop his hissing
Constrict
And become your noose
Rebel Against Rebellion
I think I'll call your bluff
I bleed, I sin, I'll die
But I'm not feeling hot standing here
So tell me again why I should be afraid
Of my fleet mortal life?
Rebel Against Rebellion
Because a Sheppard leads a flock
But you never followed
Your a goat
Caught in your lies
Bureaucracy, Democracy
Man it's all a joke
A silly excuse
Rules, the sacrum of man's brain
Your doctrine is becoming lame
And your beliefs more insane
Coliseum
A game to play to make you so entertained
Please write another rule
Prove once again
The medium you choose is jewels
You fool
Rebel Against Rebellion
Why would I cut my brother short?
Because of appearance and all your silly rules
So many when uttered I choke
For all we know life itself a joke
Oh the irony
What began as unity
Became bowing down
To man's hierarchy
So I Rebel Against Rebellion
I'm a servant of no man
I know God has a plan
That over cries your silly fear
Unravels your vines
Your words
Agenda and
"Time"
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
Let me tell you a story
Listen and learn
There was a Shepherd, a good Shepherd
Kind and loving, courageous and strong
He had 100 sheep
and the sheep loved the Shepherd
And so when one sheep wandered
The good Shepherd left the 99
And went after the one
And you might think you know this story
But I'm afraid it's not what you think
Because I am not the one...
I am one of the 99 left behind
Waiting for the Sheppard to return
Trapped by the walls of this fence
The posts and wooden planks
That contain us
Being lead by the very sheep that are
We walk in circles around the pen
Around and around... circles
Eating up the food we have
We begin to eat each other
And as demented as that sounds
It's true
Biting and gnawing
Bleeding and bruising
We turn to other sheep for nourishment
For truth... for guidance
But we are sheep all the same
Another one of the 99 left behind
Sheep is what we are
Be careful not to tater your fur
Careful not to tear or cut
To show the underneath
The skin that doesn't flatter but
Burns with the red of your hate
Your pride... Your sin
When will the Sheppard return
And open the fence
Lead to new grass
and water
There are sheep I've never seen before
Black sheep.
have you seen black sheep?
Yes sheep with spots but these sheep
They are black from head to toe
Their snouts are long and
they have sharp teeth
Strange that they have not hooves but paws
Appearing as wolves wearing sheeps clothing
They are mending the fence
The fence! It's broken!
Suddenly we realize we are not safe
Quickly, grab your hammer and nails!
Let us work with these black sheep...
to mend... the fence... around... us
Who built this fence?
Was it the Sheppard?
Cloudy as my memories be of the man
with the scars in his hands and side
This does not resemble his work
Who... built... these... walls?
These bars... This cell
With no key and a steeple?
Oh God, who built these walls?
No it wasn't the sheppard.
The walls he built had doors
And windows to let the light in
No... We have built these walls
The 99 left behind were not left...
We left.
We left the fence! The pasture!
The place of love and safety.
We are not the 99 left behind but the one
We are the one who wandered and strayed
And seeing that we were in territory unsafe
We built walls without doors
that trapped us inside... in darkness
Sheppard,
Search
Find us
Break down
These walls
Rebuild them
With windows
To let the Light in
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
Aircraft blazin' fuel
Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
A calm midnight rain,
The mind racing. Why
Must the nurtured be blind eye
Wilie McTell? Pain.
The mind racing, on
A smile,
Lonesome star in opaque
Darkness, Freedom
From label. Freedom
From responsibility.
Freedom from action,
Is this noble,
Or a jester's play in chess?
Oh, must I turn my fist to face aloft,
Straighten my clenched fingers, present you
Burning embers of admiration, that for so long
Have been stitched into my palm,
Gifted from a passive voyager afar,
Weary, to announce affection,
For a grasp can only
Last as long as
Two hands want to clasp.
What is on your mind?
Aircraft blazin' fuel
Aboon, "done-with's" grave floods sight,
A calm midnight rain.
A chance to breathe.
Be my Sheppard.
Lead
Me to pastures of serenity
To graze in, until my eternal slumber.
That's where I want to be.
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 12:22 AM UTC
He grasps stardust in his
Hands
Sand they turn truly lovely
In one hand
The edges glint golden rusty and Brown they turn
The color of lovely shriveled late
Autumn leaves
They sink soundly to the ground
Smell of raw;
Earthy taste moist like rich bread and wine
So red his lips have not
The look of innocence
Stripped naked like bark chiseled wood
How I would love them forever
My vain endeavour
Still he lays partially
Amongst the blotchy patch of shade as
The
Tree
Lovingly sways
To the sound of his
Coos
Darling he sleeps as the Sheep watch over him
My little Sheppard boy
Dreamingly sound
May rippling waters of your subconscious mind settle to shore
Tides emerge in deepest
Blue
Violently crash into the
Crimson colored rocky edge of the
Stone face cliff
Now faced with thick
Cumulonimbus clouds that
Cloud the dawn's last fiery
Light
Streaks of lightening
Silhouette whip upon his
Face and like thunder the
Lions
Roar not in pain
But in vigorous anger as
The ringmaster bows at the
Choking applaud of the
Painted audience
The wind unweaves grassy tangles in your hair
Tormenting suitors
Tease;
You messily please
Imperfectly perfect that you are able to
Appeal as effortlessly
Dressed in natures blend
Like a jar of
Roasted nuts
Of assorted trail mix
Still
You lay there
Decorated in earth's blankets of roots Grass
Twigs leaves
Oh
How it hurts to leave
I'd sit here loving you
Instead
Twist peering down upon
Deepest desires
Swept in eternal sleep
Longingly
I join your slumber
Drift into dream where I
May wake up finding you
Beside me
Where sleep steals me upon
Your shoulder
Warmth of arms lightly
Grasped
Dawn red as a match in the
Distance slowly
Smothered
Surrendering to nights cold
Silence
But the stars
Whispers of compliments to
The moon
Each night loved you kindly
Each star a kiss upon your
Cheek
May the stars love you Sweeter than they have Loved me
But darling I've loved you
Forever
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Do you go to service. why?
Maybe someone drags you in for your salvation or some such.
What do you believe. I have long released that process as a constant.
Like anything else on this plane. somebody gotta lose for someone else to gain.
Yes that is a bit wooden.
A bit cynical.
Do you feel the spirit as you enter.
What does that feel like and do you agree with all you hear and see.
What do you believe.Is the person up there speaking to you?
Do you take it all in.Or are you sight seeing. I do.
The backs of peoples heads are like monoliths.
Their faces are like masks. Not all but most.
Doubting Thomas in the pews.
The casket sits on display. It beckons and forbids.
The slow procession to absolution.
The occupant sleeps peacefully.
A shell.
Heaven or Hell.
The solemn drone. The Joyous noise.
The shrill and sweaty face of Fire and brimstone.
The call and response.
The well oiled ,stiff proceedings.
what do you believe.
Maybe you draw the lottery on Saturday
The Lord is our Sheppard. We shall not want.
Blasphemy you say.
No I am a believer.
I believe that we are.
For now and a wisp forever after.
A daunting prospect. But who knows. Faith.
The pews have been the uprising and the downfalling of many
Freedom or indoctrination
Left to our own devices. Hell's door agape.
a fertile mind, weak and troubled will gently lite on the word
then draw sustenance
for good
For ill.
The gates that lead to destruction are wide
and broad is the way.
The pews are narrow and finite.You will find me there
from time to time.
.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
Nature’s ebb and flow
There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft
emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself
unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and
forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight.
In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth
pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle
you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full
potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling
knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have
been foolishness parading as actual problems.
When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points
overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the
night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks
mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the
same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like
sheepclothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm
will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:35 AM UTC
The Truth of it all is that aggression leads to strife
In my own confession I'd rather not die by the knife
We as humans have this need to supersede
despite our insight and things
We only grow when we bleed
Our staff and hands
be tools to keep the lions at bay
All our brains used in vein
when we set a blaze to the grains
now with our swords we make wars
before there was peace to balance
now we make wars in malice
Forgetting Mother Earth feeds us
from the same challis
I cut my hand on the handle as I manicure with the lathe
Spit and Curse at the ground and then walk away
in dismay
our belongings are found in disarray
another jealous of another's work diary
hands and feet destroyed
blood and sweat ignored
We throw Rocks to knock them off
but meet death by the blade
So we hammer out a sheet
just to protect what we've made
As if the mothers hand we're not enough
Surviving her change
Change
I'm from the land of the Star
my culture reigns down from Dallas
my travels are far and wide
with our tools I fly over this freedom palace
but at every checkpoint
they scan with all seeing eyes
They Shadow a Doubt with gun point
Frisky hands finger out for lies
As I challenge that my Utensil is to help not to hurt
they won't believe me cause the pen points cause mental alpha ****
So what’s my lesson to be learned?
How does my Rhema become Word!?
I flock my words like a Sheppard guard it from the absurd
leave my lessons and my sessions underground to mature
Poetry is what I breed and when I die all may see
some take shelter beneath branches of my Po Wet Tree
that drop insight and wisdom seed seasoned with change of Colored leaves
When they cut me down
with Axe and Dagger
my pen points the bullet
A running Kid like Merle Hagard
I spread ink seeds like soul feed
emotion water and potion notions
like fodder funneled, I dyed, You reed
Sow, only take that you need
if you have a life then keep it free of weeds
cherish the fruits of labor and leave minds be.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight.
In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems.
When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
Caught an intellect from the beams of a flashin' tech
Skies open fools still hopin'
more corrupt than Kenneth Copeland yo I ain't
Jokin' words carefully spoken
From Houston to Oakland me ghettos we all kin
Born in sin so I was made for lusting put my trust in
My nine millimeter soon to beat cha if ya
Not fast with ya draw man this a southside gang
And We running thangs comin' back on track like a
boomerang
Haters love to sing chirpin' like early birds
I move the herds the black Sheppard
testing nerves
Check my lac banked on the curb hit a taste of the herb
To calm my brain cells light a fire see visions of Hell
I inhale free my mind from jail caught in this fairy tale
Thought this world was made for me but it ain't see?
The devil's laughing at me cuz I took the plea of insanity
Expose my mind through pens and papers
Towerin' empires past the
skyscrapers
traces of flowin' vapors
Disappear then reappear back on the atmosphere
But still i ain't here a ghost in a
shell
Pass the seven gates of chakras
cells
Gather my intel from my enemies that sail
Undercover lover to ya mother
mentally
See me I create energy powerful enough
To call out any bluff keep it rough
and rugged
So **** it since most chicken ya feathers
Gettin' plucked givin' up the what?
The funk that is
From Rosemary's kids made in
Hades
Check the tens bumpin' in the
Mercedes
I'm old school rock big jewels pinky
rings
Diamond bezels shining and still
blinding
Sip Tennessee whiskey out the glass cup
Flashback it's the return of King
Tut
Speak bad watch the raw clips keep ya mouth shut
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
And Then There's Us...
We Get up and go to work at first mornings light.
We come home each and every night.
Every day we see our little one's smile
Although for us each day is a trial.
We make sure they learn how to read
Because we know that knowledge is a little seed
That needs to be watered frequently,
If it’s to grow in little heads eventually.
We are careful not to yell and scream
Because it’s easy to shatter our baby’s dream.
We never let them see us do any wrong.
As far as they know, life is a simple song.
Even when we have to hide our own tears
Of broken promises made to us over many years
We smile and tell them everything is going to be all right
Though we lay awake, into the deep of night.
We know evil thoughts fly swifter than birds
So we cover young ears when they hear foul rapper’s words.
Their twisted rhymes teach them to lie, steal and cheat
And we know, as they hear, they will also speak.
We love our kids and always tell them so
And in other ways we always let them know
With kind looks and tender embraces
But at first light we’re gone again without any traces
We start the cycle all over again
We don’t know if it will ever end
But we’re not tied to quick and easy schemes
It takes hard work to achieve our dreams.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
The albatross sings through clouds
Waltzing in the circle of our intimate desolations.
Pandemonium caressing winds of destruction.
The sound of lonely steps forcing tendencies along the shore.
As Crumbling drops of rain do unexpected time around the sun.
The hands open-wings angels
Break the silence underneath the blue sky,
Passion hidden in a kiss.
Walking beneath waterfalls
Whispers penetrate the alley of rendition.
The good Sheppard strolls between thin lines.
Walls of winter shiver at the sound of war.
Fear of a reliance bounces through souls
Seeking and founding my silence.
Walking the mind of child
Unfrosted and fragile uncertain from the waist down.
Run as fast as you can.
The telepathy of a mother
Brings back a memorable dance with the stars.
As The tree of life cuts through their veins
A mind field of flowers began to blossom
The sound of bird
Whistling inside my brother’s keeper…
Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2009
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 12:09 PM UTC
There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight.
In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems.
When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
Nature’s ebb and flow
There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight.
In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems.
When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
For Erin Sheppard; only for you.
I have seen you before,
Perhaps in a dream?
A dreamt dreamer who dreams with me?
A lover from another life, another plane?
Or a figment of my fragmented thoughts?
A place in my mind accessible only here...
In The deepest of dreams?
No. I know you...
I know we have met, long ago..
I have seen you, and witnessed your beauty,
Yet I am blind to your face;
You remain forever unseen, but felt.
Unheard, yet loud.
Loudly enough to wake me.
If I allowed you to...
But, I want to stay here,
In the dark.
I want to lie here,
With you, in the quiet places and spaces
Of The Deepest Dream.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight.
In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems.
When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
So many times I thought I answered
But only to see the stakes have changed
Every time I look up at him
He shoots me down to the abyss below
Where I have to crawl just to reach my goal
To find out how I can be whole
Dark and damp its cold inside
The monster that decides to hide
I fight to find, inside who I am
A Sheppard looking for his lost lambs
As if the tattoo jumped of my skin
Searching for my long lost twin
The image of me has faded away
Darkness unable to be kept at bay
Surging through me like a beam of black
My life hung up upon the plaque
The tears want to drop, I just want to cry
Why can't I find myself, WHO am I?
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:54 AM UTC
“Number Two, Derek Jeter, Number two. “said the disembodied voice.
A man on second, one man out, It was Showalter’s choice.
He could walk Derek Jeter, choosing to pitch to McCann.
The choice would be unpopular, not that he gave a ****
With no one warming in the pen, Buck chose to roll the dice.
Derek had two R.B.I., another would be nice.
Antoun danced off second base, Meek delivered fast and low.
Jeter punched it to right field, where else would it go?
Antoun raced around third base and dove headfirst for home.
The crowd roared at the signal “Safe “and they were not alone..
The Captain leapt up in the air, the moment we’ll remember,
our pleasure in an otherwise forgettable September.
He will not take the field again; his time at Short is done.
A handful of at bats remain before his race has run.
Bob Sheppard will go silent now, that voice beyond the grave,
The night that Robertson got the win, and Jeter got the save.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC
Rant like a pig.
Go ahead, I want to hear it.
You cry wolf, really, I'm interested.
Cry like a wolf. Cry like the wolf who is always at fault.
Cry like the wolf who is alone and who is scared and who is not sacred at all.
Rant like the pig who is constantly threatened by wolves. Who cannot leave the watchful eye of the Sheppard.
Cry.
Cry some more.
Smoke a cigarette.
Smoke until your stomach is upset, please.
Smoke until your pack is all gone and your painful stomach is replaced by a piercing headache.
Be hypocritical. Trust me, you can.
Do exactly to me what you'd hate for me to do.
What you hated me for doing.
Treat others the way you want to be treated or else treat others the way you were treated; hypocritically.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
In this savage land we call home
There is a pastoral valley that has the richest texture of heaven
This treasured sheep gate becons tenderly says welcome
These hills and slopes the repository of our hopes
The savior poised in their gentle steeps, for the city weeps
Sweet spirit that fills this natural expanse soft as the breeze
Each tired weary soul you refresh with a quiet hush
We are shown the wisdom of not being in a rush
Unseen pillars tower revealing your mighty power
Written on the pillars at the world side is come unto me
On the church side seek the lost at any cost
The Devil expresses defiance the church makes Heaven her alliance
Wayward souls tormented seeking an oasis dying of thirst
Today we fill these pots of clay and determine to go out of our way
Seeking those that hunger and thirst by this Christ we manifest
To the world the church is ghostly not completely visible
It shimmers as though it isn’t real blindly they feel about
In your life they find solid ground clear of the mist
They finish a terrible journey now they feed from all their needs freed
No longer exhausted from continually milling about
The Sheppard stands holy watch and cast a confidant shadow
In this respite feeding and richly nourished they grow strong
Gladness quietly cascades from spiritual hills of splendor
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Halted ahead at intersections
Of three rows the cattle would gather
With blinking lights alternating
Waiting for the Sheppard to motion forth.
The congestion down their arteries
Chills the cells to an icy stop.
Iron bars on the edges
And mankind's cholesterol in the middle.
No escape from the blinking,
No movement away from the Sheppard cane.
Soon the cattle go to slaughter--
Only then may this blinking falter.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 1:51 AM UTC
I WONDER (June 7th, 20013)
Written by Donna Sheppard
(Dedicated to: Robert, my muse,
my confidante, my friend, my love)
I wonder
if you feel my truth
In the poems
I write for you
Eyes wide shut
Against the night
I wonder if you feel me
Transfixed (and transported)
By your songs
I wonder if you feel
A longing for some
Midday delight . . .
Or a midnight date
With the stars
On a night unencumbered
By the weight of the moon
I wonder if you feel
My endless kisses
My fingers intertwined
In yours . . .
The weight
Of my body
Spooning
With satisfaction
Against your back
I wonder if you feel
The wonder of our
Hearts expanding
Across the geography
That separates us
I wonder if you feel
The wonder
Of our home
Away from home
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
The Sheppard strokes the sheep
assuring peace with every wave of his hand.
Weary to the Wolf’s eyes
as he gazes onward,
red his eyes will glow
with imagination.
In his mind he is
picking wool from his teeth;
a blood-filled smile as
the Sheppard weeps a
river of tears and
the Wolf chuckles to
himself, looming over the
mountains of carcasses.
He steps forward to the
Sheppard ~ now on his knees begging ~
and lays his paw on the man’s
head, laughing hysterically
at the Sheppard’s defeat, the
tears rolling down the Sheppard’s cheeks
as he holds the blood-soaked wool in
his hand, but
The Wolf spares no mercy.
The Sheppard sends the sheep
to their pen to sleep the night away.
Weary are the Wolf’s eyes
as his gaze is turned away.
Red his paws will drop,
He will return another day.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Shadow of Eden
In this savage land we call home
There is a pastoral valley that has the richest texture of heaven
This treasured sheep gate becons tenderly says welcome
These hills and slopes the repository of our hopes
The savior poised in their gentle steeps, for the city weeps
Sweet spirit that fills this natural expanse soft as the breeze
Each tired weary soul you refresh with a quiet hush
We are shown the wisdom of not being in a rush
Unseen pillars tower revealing your mighty power
Written on the pillars at the world side is come unto me
On the church side seek the lost at any cost
The Devil expresses defiance the church makes Heaven her alliance
Wayward souls tormented seeking an oasis dying of thirst
Today we fill these pots of clay and determine to go out of our way
Seeking those that hunger and thirst by this Christ we manifest
To the world the church is ghostly not completely visible
It shimmers as though it isn’t real blindly they feel about
In your life they find solid ground clear of the mist
They finish a terrible journey now they feed from all their needs freed
No longer exhausted from continually milling about
The Sheppard stands holy watch and cast a confidant shadow
In this respite feeding and richly nourished they grow strong
Gladness quietly cascades from spiritual hills of splendor
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
And I ~ for you
And I ~ cling to a fortress
of endless temptation
with rings made of gold
and a tree built of life
Faltering corners
in new found dimensions
a little left over
but so very nice
Clinging to them
And I ~ search in a fountain
with quarters for feelings
so far neath the waters
my song sings alone
On sea shells and posters
of rock concert heroes
with hair like a Sheppard
to call the sheep home
Calling to all
And I ~ call to the mountains
in echoes of sailors
with waves in the morning
and snowcaps at night
Floating horizons
alone on the wishes
that winds will prevail
and make everything right
Sailing again
And I ~ lean on a valley
of tree lines and saucers
with cups filled with coffee
to taste when it’s due
With smiles forever
and words down on paper
with love as my meaning
I write them ~ for you
Please hear my call
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC