Related quotes
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gurdjieff
“You are both a wolf
and a lamb.
If you do not stay awake
the wolf will devour
the lamb.”
Oh you, the Living and the Dead!
Both those who earn
and you who claim by right
your daily bread.
Encourage the few
they will become the many.
Encourage the poor
they will reach out for more.
Encourage the young
they will fail to grow up.
Encourage the old
they will grow older.
Why do so many
in public life
wear nametags
nowadays?
“In case they forget
who you are.”
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Dreamt...
i dreamt...
i was dead,
and they'd buried me
on a hill with
a small stone marker.
and i watched
as seasons passed,
one by one,
in constant rhythm...
the years went by.
and no living being
ever visited my graveside,
except for black crows...
again and again,
black crows!
the caw of the crows!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'The Lion Of The Tribe Of Judah
There in heaven John shed great tears and sighed.
But then, 'Weep not' one of the elders cried.
'The secrets of the scroll can be unveiled'
'for the Lion of Judah has prevailed.'
Before them stood a Lamb so clear and plain
pierced and looking as though it had been slain.
Then the Lamb took the scroll as angels sang
and throughout heaven this great chorus rang.
'Worthy is the Lamb' all the heavens cried
'Worthy is the Lamb' all the earth replied,
'For He was slain for us and shed His blood
and purchased the people on earth for God.'
The Lion became a Lamb to pay the price
and saved the world by His great sacrifice.
When He hung there upon that wooden cross
and gave up His life to redeem the lost.
So weep no more and shed no more tears
Join in the song through the eternal years.
'Worthy is the Lamb' enthroned in Glory
for Christ Jesus has won the victory.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Crows for Konstantin
Crows.
The noise of conflict dies away.
Those left alive will now depart.
Only the dead allowed to stay,
they have no further part to play.
The warring sides in full retreat
The crows tonight dine on fresh meat.
Though neither side claims victory.
The crows will feast quite happily.
Since man first slew another man.
It seems to be Dame Natures plan.
The crows will feast on the remains
The scavengers alone will gain.
While warring sides must count the cost
of fighting men that they have lost.
Perhaps one day we’ll realise
In war there are no victories.
Bar for the crows who do not fight
but satisfy their appetite.
On those who do who in their view
Choose to fight. they don’t need to.
Although in death they feed the crows.
I don’t suppose the crows oppose.
The idea that men come to blows.
Nor do they care I must suppose.
The only winners are the crows
who feast until they’re comatose.
On what is left of those who chose
to risk their lives exchanging blows.
Sunday,09 May 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lullaby
Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.
Po' little lamb.
Too tiahed out to make a noise,
Po' little lamb.
You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?
Yes, you tole me dat befo',
Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',
Po' little lamb.
You been bad de livelong day,
Po' little lamb.
Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,
Po' little lamb.
My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',
Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;
Mam' gwine whup you atter while,
Po' little lamb.
Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,
Po' little lamb.
Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,
Po' little lamb.
See dem han's now--sich a sight!
Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?
Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,
Po' little lamb.
Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,
Po' little lamb.
Had n't oughter played so late,
Po' little lamb.
Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,
Ef de chillun's all lak you;
You 's a caution now fu' true,
Po' little lamb.
Lay yo' haid down in my lap,
Po' little lamb.
Y' ought to have a right good slap,
Po' little lamb.
You been runnin' roun' a heap.
Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,
Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
Po' little lamb.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lamb and the Wolf (Ballad)
I saw a lamb to wolf turn prey!
I saw it kill’d in gruesome way;
The lamb was rather small, I say;
I saw it frolicking that day;
It bleated while busy at play;
That day, its life, it had to pay;
And soon, I heard a plaintive cry;
The grass was smeared by lamb’s blood dry!
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf was dressed in fine lamb-skin;
It killed by habit, kith and kin;
Like lamb, it spoke and went so near;
It acted friendly, allayed fear;
It took the lamb afar to play;
The lamb was foolish on that day;
It was so meek and frail, not bold;
It wished to see the far-off world.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf then took the lamb away,
To steep a cliff with grass to play;
In moment’s time, it pushed it down;
The foul-play was almost half-done;
The lamb remained so very dazed;
That it was live, kept me amazed;
Before it could then recover,
The wolf made plans to devour.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf noticed the lamb’s sad plight
And asked if it was quite alright;
It said, “I’ll take you to mother.”
The lamb believed the lie, brother!
It took it round and round and round;
There was no sign of flock on ground;
The lamb had gone really far;
Against the wolf, it could not war.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The lamb couldn’t walk any farther;
To pray to God, it didn’t bother;
It was so tired, hungry too;
It did not know what next to do;
The wolf then caught the lamb by throat;
The blood spilled down its white fur-coat;
The lamb was dead in moments split;
The wolf ate lamb and tried to sit;
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
The wolf had feasted like a drill;
It ate with joy and had its fill;
It worked its way with pretty skill;
It left no trace of lamb on hill;
It was the poor lamb’s folly still.
The lamb had vanished from the rill;
It was too weak to fight by will;
The lamb had died a death cruel.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
O shepherd good and experienced
With staff so long and strong and hooked;
If you had been awake and heard
The poor lamb’s cry, you could it saved;
If you had spotted wolf disguised,
One blow by staff you could have killed;
If you had watched with care, brother,
It would have stayed near its mother;
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Then good shepherd, “Why didn’t you come
To save lamb’s life from wolf’s welcome? ”
The little lamb didn’t know wolf’s scent;
It was too small and innocent;
Its legs were weak and could not run;
It thought that life was only fun;
If more alert had been shepherd,
The lamb needn’t go astray or erred.
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Had shepherd failed to act aright?
Had wolf deceived the lamb’s eye-sight?
Did not God know the lamb’s poor plight?
How could a lamb give wolf a fight?
Was it an act of destiny?
Was lamb to blame for mutiny?
Perhaps, the lamb was bound to die,
Allured by wolf’s broad day-light lie!
My good shepherd, “Did you not know? ”
My God, “Did You all this allow? ”
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-11-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn
O li'l' lamb out in de col',
De Mastah call you to de fol',
O li'l' lamb!
He hyeah you bleatin' on de hill;
Come hyeah an' keep yo' mou'nin' still,
O li'l' lamb!
De Mastah sen' de Shepud fo'f;
He wandah souf, he wandah no'f,
O li'l' lamb!
He wandah eas', he wandah wes';
De win' a-wrenchin' at his breas',
O li'l' lamb!
Oh, tell de Shepud whaih you hide;
He want you walkin' by his side,
O li'l' lamb!
He know you weak, he know you so';
But come, don' stay away no mo',
O li'l' lamb!
An' af'ah while de lamb he hyeah
De Shepud's voice a-callin' cleah--
Sweet li'l' lamb!
He answah f'om de brambles thick,
'O Shepud, I's a-comin' quick'--
O li'l' lamb!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It needs but slight provocation to make the wolf devour the lamb.
Where Do the Crows Go
I see and hear less Crows in Spring.
Where do the Crows go?
While the Morning Doves chirp,
And the Bluebirds sing.
At dawn I use to hear the Crows...
From the rooftops and fences,
Do that 'crowing' thing.
And now that Spring has arrived,
I do not see a Crow around.
Where do the Crows go?
That's what I want to know!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb
One holy morning
'Neath the star of Bethlehem
A brand new day was forming
Guided by the shining light
And the angel's voice
Wise men traveled through the night
To see the baby boy
'Cause Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
They gathered 'round to see the lamb
In the manger sleeping
Such a humble throne for Him
The promise God was keeping
There the shepards bowed their heads
Among the cattle lowing
The first ever Christmas gift
Was wrapped in swaddling clothes
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
For the world a sacrifice
Mary did give birth
The way she held him in her arms
Is how He holds the earth
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Oh, Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Weep Day
I never went to the tropical island
Though everybody said they saw me there
And it wasnt me you punched a hole in
At the west german protest march
Simultaneous events dont happen
We are isolated temporally
And a part is never called the whole thing
Though it bothers us to know its so
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
I didnt write the words you hear me singing (didnt write the words you hear me singing)
I didnt sing the line before this one (didnt sing the line before this one)
You are not the one I was addressing (you are not the one I was addressing)
That person took a train to africa (africa)
Where he met the consulate from belgium
Who is now a buddhist in a cave
Who is pitching for the oakland raiders
Striking out the batter she became
Every man is made of two opinions
Every woman has a second half
And its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Yes, its samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man (samba time for tambo and weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day for urine man (weep day for urine man)
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep day weep day
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
Weep (weep) weep (weep) weep (weep)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Weep Not For Him That Dieth
I.
WEEP not for him that dieth--
For he sleeps, and is at rest;
And the couch whereon he lieth
Is the green earth's quiet breast:
But weep for him who pineth
On a far land's hateful shore,
Who wearily declineth
Where ye see his face no more!
II.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For friends are round his bed,
And many a young lip sigheth
When they name the early dead;
But weep for him that liveth
Where none will know or care,
When the groan his faint heart giveth
Is the last sigh of despair.
III.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For his struggling soul is free,
And the world from which it flieth
Is a world of misery;
But weep for him that weareth
The captive's galling chain:
To the agony he beareth,
Death were but little pain.
IV.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For he hath ceased from tears,
And a voice to his replieth
Which he hath not heard for years;
But weep for him who weepeth
On that cold land's cruel shore--
Blest, blest is he that sleepeth,--
Weep for the dead no more!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don’t Weep For Me
Here I lay in bed
the throes of death
dance round my head.
Don’t weep for me
when I am dead,
because all you will see
is just the husk of me.
I will be gone to somewhere else,
although they have not told me yet.
It could be somewhere hot
so I can burn my toes.
It could be somewhere cold
so it will freeze my nose.
Then again it could be somewhere in between
where the air is clean.
They say that is quite nice,
a sort of paradise.
So when I am dead,
don’t weep for me.
You can take the husk
and do what you will.
You can burn or bury it deep,
which will give the worms something to eat.
You can put me a cardboard box
if you are that way incline,
I really do not mind,
for I will already be gone from there.
To where that is anyone’s guess,
they have not told me yet.
When I get there, I won’t be coming back.
No one ever does from there,
except to haunt those who have done me wrong,
and then only until the day they to are gone.
I guess it is time to sat goodbye.
Just remember what I said,
don’t weep for me
when I am dead.
2 July 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Time One Day by me did Pass
AS Time one day by me did pass,
Through a large dusky glass
He held, I chanc'd to look,
And spied his curious book
Of past days, where sad Heav'n did shed
A mourning light upon the dead.
Many disorder'd lives I saw,
And foul records, which thaw
My kind eyes still, but in
A fair, white page of thin
And ev'n, smooth lines, like the sun's rays,
Thy name was writ, and all thy days.
O bright and happy kalendar !
Where youth shines like a star
All pearl'd with tears, and may
Teach age the holy way ;
Where through thick pangs, high agonies,
Faith into life breaks, and Death dies.
As some meek night-piece which day quails,
To candle-light unveils :
So by one beamy line
From thy bright lamp, did shine
In the same page thy humble grave,
Set with green herbs, glad hopes and brave.
Here slept my thought's dear mark ! which dust
Seem'd to devour, like rust ;
But dust—I did observe—
By hiding doth preserve ;
As we for long and sure recruits,
Candy with sugar our choice fruits.
O calm and sacred bed, where lies
In death's dark mysteries
A beauty far more bright
Than the noon's cloudless light ;
For whose dry dust green branches bud,
And robes are bleach'd in the Lamb's blood.
Sleep, happy ashes !—blessed sleep !—
While hapless I still weep ;
Weep that I have outliv'd
My life, and unreliev'd
Must—soullesse shadow !—so live on,
Though life be dead, and my joys gone.
poem by Henry Vaughan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Malediction
I am walking in the last rays of the setting sun.
Whistling a hangmans tune with head held high swinging my gun.
I say this little boy is angry, I say this little boy is mad!
This little boy comes to destroy, stone-eyed, cold-faced in swathes of vengeance clad.
And the black cock crows. and a dead wind blows.
In my wake are seven men who tried to steal my soul.
In my belly six wild wolves curse and howl from their foul hole.
I say no earthly will may stop me, I say no earthly will may try.
No earthly will may halt the spill of blood from wounds and tears from craving eyes.
And the black cock crows. and a dead wind blows.
Below me burn the city lights like fires of pearls and jewels.
Im climbling down the city walls, unseen, unfussed - the sentries must be fools.
I say all pleasantries are over, I say all pleasantries are past.
My enemies, you pimps and thieves, prepare to meet your nemesis at last.
And the black cock crows. and the dead wind blows.
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Strange And Disturbing!
Strange and disturbing!
In the jungles;
Where large animals devour small animals.
Four, devour!
Under the age old survival of the fittest rule;
Sour, devour!
The potter and the clay,
To study it;
Like the sand of the sea!
Variabel,
Pour, devour!
Available,
Traditions! !
Gentle,
Gentiles,
Of peace;
Obtained!
But, under the age old survival of the fittest rule;
And like an exciting time with the muse of the jungles.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'Christ Our Passover Lamb
'I'll pass over you when I see the blood'
This was the wonderful promise of God
The blood has been shed and the price is paid
The Passover Lamb on the alter laid.
The day was the day of Unleavened Bread
The day that the Passover Lamb lay dead
Christ our Passover Lamb has now been slain
And His blood has cleansed us from sins stain.
For from His lips I hear 'Father forgive'
And because He died I can now shall live
The judgement of God has been waived for me
Because of what Jesus did at Calvary.
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
Weep Not Nigeria
Weep not Nigeria,
for justice is in the offing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your cries resonate and ring.
Weep not Nigeria,
It's time for your African spring.
Weep not Nigeria,
none shall usurp your role as king.
Weep not Nigeria,
for soon in ecstasy you'll sing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for to towering heights you'll cling.
Weep not Nigeria,
and soar atop the eagle's wing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your patience will gladness bring.
Weep not Nigeria,
it's time to sing the ding dong song.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your misery will not be long.
Weep not Nigeria,
for you are numbered with the strong.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (11 July 2018)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
Vote! | Copy!
Crows
THEN, suddenly, I was aware indeed
Of what he said, and was revolving it:
How, in the night, crows often take to wing,
Rising from off the tree-tops in Drumbarr,
And flying on: I pictured what he told.
The crows that shake the night-damp off their wings
Upon the stones out yonder in the fields,
The first live things that we see in the mornings;
The crows that march across the fields, that sit
Upon the ash-trees' branches, that fly home
And crowd the elm-tops over in Drumbarr;
The crows we look on at all hours of light,
Growing, and full, and going these black beings have
Another lifetime!
Crows flying in the dark
Blackness in darkness flying; beings unseen
Except by eyes that are like to their own
Trespassers' eyes!
And you, old man, with eyes so quick and sharp,
Who've told me of the crows, my fosterer;
And you, old woman, upon whose lap I've lain
When I was taken from my mother's lap;
And you, young girl, with looks that have come down
From forefathers, my kin ye have another life
I've glimpsed it, I becoming trespasser-
Blackness in darkness flying like the crows!
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!