A sheep cannot bleat in two different places at the same time.
Related quotes
Sheeptalk
there came out from the open Bible
in a corner of a field
all of the sheep
gave one triumphant bleat
their exodus complete
without them
the book had very much less to say
as a sheep without an udder
gone permanently astray
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Until that time again we meet
I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
That winged my hearts flutters with joy
I wish to bring ye young one home
And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood
But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave
Ye have flowered and died in spring;
Our little winged soul is ye lost like sheep
When I count my dying prayers and weep
Don’t bleat child, don’t bleat!
In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Until that time again we meet.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cot death
I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
That winged my hearts flutters with joy
I wish to bring ye young one home
And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood
But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave
Ye have flowered and died in spring;
Our little winged soul is ye lost like sheep
When I count my dying prayers and weep
Don't bleat child, don't bleat!
In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Until that time again we meet.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The sheep that bleat the most give the least milk.
When My Voice Stops!
When my voice stops for ever
There will be no tumults of words ever.
The stars will still twinkle and rivers will still die.
When my voice stops I shall dive into your oblivion
And in another costume someone will impersonate me.
The hymns will still be heard and the fresh idols will surface.
When my voice stops a lone sheep may bleat
As it stands near the tender leaves aplenty.
I think it may bleat for a while and cease to do so thenceforth.
When my voice stops those who loved me once for a while
May shed a few drops of tears innocent
And I may turn on my tomb for a sigh!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Surroundings-24
Sheep In The Street
Clinking they lead flocked
Clinging they bleat starved
His hook stick tactic
Street trees swooped up trick
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In a distant land many years ago, there lived a black sheep. It was executed by firing squad. A century later, the grieving flock erected an equestrian statue in honor of the slain sheep that looked very nice in the park. In the years that followed, every time a black sheep appeared, it was executed so that ordinary sheep could practice sculpture.
Augusto Monterroso in The Black Sheep and Other Fables (1969)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy!
Soul Dance
I will dance with you
It will be the dance of my soul
I will be open and honest
Show you my inner being
I will trust you
Take you to places in my soul that have been broken and restored
Places that cause pain and healing
Places that have hated and loved
Places I have forgotten and remembered
Places I have not visited in a long time and places I go every day
I will dance with you the dance of my soul
And feel your soul dance with mine to those same places in yours
poem by Mandi Ducroq
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mr. Sheep
Golly, mister, where you going? you'll be late for work careful or you'll drop your briefcase jesus, what a jerk there he goes down to the subway off to catch the train too bad for him he forgot
Umbrella poor mr. sheep you're wet mr. sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk on tell me, how's your little family? how's your little wife? are you going to live with these monsters for the rest of your
Maybe you got a little girlfriend stashed somewhere in town may be you ain't got a little girlfriend ha ha ha ha ha poor mr. sheep he's a lonely guy too walk on mr. sheep walk on dance, mister!
He's doin' ok oh, oh oh, he's all right let him get up by himself now i don't want to be too rough and i don't want to be too mean you're right - this world is awful tough i know exactly what y
An but i want you to know exactly how i feel and to tell you the truth right now i feel like going i feel like going baa baa mr. sheep careful, you're walking all over your own self now walk on,
Sheep walk on, mr. sheep walk
On, mr. sheep walk on
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sheep
Sometimes I get so angry with the simple life they lead
The shepherds smile seems to confirm my fears
Theyve never questioned anything, theyve never disagreed
Sometimes I think they must have wool in their ears
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
When I was young they used to get me counting sheep
But the counting I did was all in vain
No when Im tired and Im trying to get to sleep
I count humans jumping onto trains
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
[influential guitar break]
And when you see a can I see a crook
And when you see a crowd I see a flock
Its sheep were up against
Sheep were up against
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hospitals are places that you have to stay in for a long time, even if you are a visitor. Time doesn't seem to pass in the same way in hospitals as it does in other places. Time seems to almost not exist in the same way as it does in other places.
quote by Pedro Almodovar
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Black Sheep
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'
'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,
'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,
The faith I learned at my mother's knee
Is good enough for me.
Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she,
Hearing one sermon where she heard three,
And I read my paper on Sunday, instead
Of the Bible only. My mother said
I was a black sheep, when she saw
I strayed a trifle away from the law,
And didn't think everyone left in the lurch
Who happened to go to a different church;
But, still, in the main, her creed is mine,
And I don't want anything more divine.'
Yet his mother's mother was more austere;
She taught her children a creed of fear,
And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock,
She saw them straying away from the flock,
Just far enough
To get around places they thought too rough,
Like infant damnation and endless hell.
But his mother's mother's mother would tell
How her mother thought it was God's sweet will
To punish and torture a heretic till
They drove out the devil that made him dare
Think for himself in the matter of prayer
And faith and salvation. So we see how it is
If we look back over the centuries-
The creeds men learned at their mother's knee
When Salem witches were hanged to a tree,
And the pious dames flocked thither to see,
Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day;
And the bold black sheep who went straying away
From rut-worn paths in their search for God,
And leaped over the fence into pastures broad,
Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls,
Leading the race up to higher goals
And a larger religion; where man must find
God dwelling ever within his mind,
Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought,
And hell but the places where love is not.
A mighty religion that makes this earth
But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth
And the life beyond it, that is so near
Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: a whole world full.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking Glass
Looking Glass
A mirror hang on a tree, to scare crows, or
perhaps it was for shepherd's goddess to
comb her golden fleece? Its light reflected
on the ground- quick as a breeze- a ghost
of a mouse looking for its burrow?
Far off, amongst green olive trees, I saw
sheep the colour of clay, lawnmowers on
four legs, they kept track of their lambs by
baaing, each one had a distinct bleat, baas
from their young, had a pleasing euphony.
Clouds sailed across the sky, clippers and
schooners bound for India; tea, spices and
other delights, the tiny ghost had found its
tunnel. I looked into Alice's own mirror,
and saw the blankness of cancelled time.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sheep
The Sheep adorns the landscape rural
And is both singular and plural—
It gives grammarians the creeps
To hear one say, 'A flock of sheeps.'
The Sheep is gentle, meek and mild,
And led in herds by man or child—
Being less savage than the rabbit,
Sheep are gregarious by habit.
The Sheep grows wool and thus promotes
The making of vests, pants and coats—
Vests, pants and coats and woolen cloths
Provide good food for hungry moths.
With vegetables added to
The Sheep, we get our mutton stew—
Experiments long since revealed
The Sheep should first be killed and peeled.
Thus, with our debt to them so deep,
All men should cry 'Praise be for Sheep!'—
And, if we happen to be shepherds,
'Praise be they’re not as fierce as leopards!'
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thanks!
thanks to Jesus
alive from the dead
thanks for his words
daily fed
thanks to John
his closest friend
his words and friendship
he still does send
thanks to Mary's
one and all
loving, kind
always on call
thanks to David
and all the prophets
women and men
who easily know God
the world may think us strange
'Gee, how they're odd! '
thanks to our Dad
high in the sky
watching us sparrows
and sheep
as we bleat
and peep!
thanks to Mom Spirit
consoling us so
soothing our brains
as on with life
we go
thanks to saints
past and present
great and small
in God's eyes we're equals
we all stand tall!
poem by Harlan Simantel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sounds of Life
Goats do make a sound of music,
Every animal sounded like sheep;
May God keep each creature in the air,
In ears of men who talk to women about hearing
And speech, and laughter, and relaxation.
Talking to musical animals kept grace,
Much of the time there is a weapon of brutality
But when this left a sound we found music.
Goats and sheep are alike, their noises feel
To the human soul even as simple.
A sound of music is of the soul, the sheep
Have a small sound, much of the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Did Those Places Go?
We walked the lanes,
swam the lakes
and met together for lunch-time breaks.
We turned our eyes,
searched the skies
and parted sadly with goodbyes.
Where did those places go?
We danced the waltzes,
listened to Strauss.
We raised the kids.
Then they up and left our house.
Where did those places go?
We picked the clover.
When it was over
we wondered where did all those places go?
Time took them away.
One by one they slipped through our hands.
We could not make them stay.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: God's Warning to Shepherds!
‘My sheep lie scattered and not tended well.
I'll find new shepherds who will do this job;
To ones who failed their duty, ‘twill be hell;
From me, my sheep, no one can ever rob! '
‘Disaster to shepherds who don't take care
Of my loved sheep, who leave my pastures green;
I'll get new shepherds, fearless and will dare,
Preventing sheep, from getting lost from scene! '
‘In prophets, priests, now Godlessness prevails;
They do not preach to people what's God-say;
They tell own versions and their made-up tales,
Deluding people, leading sheep astray! '
‘So, prophesy what comes from Yahweh's mouth.'
The Lord declares, ‘Just speak the Gospel's truth! '
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sleepless
Its 5a.m and im up again
Sleepless nights they always win.
I lay down in the silence and darkness
Hoping for a sleep of bliss
I have tried it all,
From warm milk, pills to a stress ball.
Nothing seems to help alleviate
Not even alittle time to meditate
This is my curse from now till the end
For sheep to count its time to send.
Tossing and turning,
While my mind is still churning
Its hot no its cold
This feeling is really getting old.
Well now i feel i can slumber,
But screw counting sheep i forget the number.
poem by Taylor Knapczyk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Price Creativity?
My heart beats passionately.
My mind thinks creatively.
My soul cries desperately.
I am an individual undreamed of.
I will not comprise.
I will not bleat with herded sheep.
Truth Honour Justice Disguised?
For these three I stand alone.
For these three I walk alone.
These three I aspire to distinctly own.
Wisdom Knowledge Worked Of Past Ages.
As I merge ancient celestial wisdom.
As I sweep across unknown ages.
As I walk worlds apart from material wealth.
In a capitalistic world I moan.
What Price Creativity?
What market value?
Which market?
For what reason?
For what profit?
Why bother?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!