In the villages where there are no oxen, the sheep's feet seem strong.
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Let Us Forget Our Villages...
Villages, my friend, are no more those heavens.
You used to tell about villages living, I remember.
Villages, my friend, are no more those marvels.
You used to boast about the ones quite variant, I recall.
Villages have begun to grow its heights,
Its vast expanses shrinking to a few yards.
Villages have sent away their caring mothers to the towns,
Villages have driven away their milky animals to the farm houses.
That`s why my friend, I can`t take you to my village
And when you offer to do so, I am not inclined.
Let us hide in the fortress of this city`s hard walls known to us and
Forget our villages where our memories wander as ghosts.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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During April rainfalls the pig gets butchered, the oxen gets fattened and the sheep laughs.
Jewish villages were built in the place of Arab villages. You do not even know the names of these Arab villages, and I do not blame you because geography books no longer exist.
quote by Moshe Dayan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oxfam Stands For Killing Oxen Causes Famine
Oxfam like Heifer International
is distributing animal flesh
to third world countries,
thereby causing animal agony,
spreading human death and disease,
enabling deforesting and continued
global heating, wasting energy.
Oxfam means.... killing oxen causes
famine.
*********
I WILL NOT SAIL WITH SHEEP
- W. H. Davies - (1870 to 1940)
When I was once in Baltimore
A man came up to me and cried
‘Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep,
And we sail on Tuesday’s tide.'
‘If you will sail with me, young man,
I'll pay you fifty shillings down.
These eighteen hundred sheep I take
From Baltimore to Glasgow town.’
He paid me fifty shillings down.
I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep;
We soon had cleared the harbour’s mouth,
We soon were in the salt sea deep.
The first night we were out at sea.
Those sheep were quiet in their mind.
The second night they cried with fear –
They smelt no pastures in the wind.
They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields.
They cried so loud I could not sleep:
For fifty thousand shillings down
I would not sail again with sheep.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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If you were plowing a field, which would you rather use? Two strong oxen or 1024 chickens?
quote by Seymoure Cray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Pleasures of Fields and Gardens
Spring a tangle of wildflowers and grasses lush and fragrant,
summer cool shade beneath thick pines towering everywhere:
oxen and sheep return on their own, wandering village lanes,
and for children here, robes of high office don't mean a thing.
poem by Wang Wei, translated by David Hinton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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
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Day's End
Oxen and sheep were brought back down
Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over
Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden,
A windswept moon rises into clear night.
Springs trickle down dark cliffs, and autumn
Dew fills ridgeline grasses. My hair seems
Whiter in lamplight. The flame flickers
Good fortune over and over -- and for what?
Day's End
Oxen and sheep were brought back down
Long ago, and bramble gates closed. Over
Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden,
A windswept moon rises into clear night.
Springs trickle down dark cliffs, and autumn
Dew fills ridgeline grasses. My hair seems
Whiter in lamplight. The flame flickers
Good fortune over and over -- and for what?
The years like great black oxen tread the world, and God, the herdsman goads them on behind, and I am broken by their passing feet.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boxing
I watched those boxers, strong as oxen,
Move with moxie 'round the ring,
Flinging fists while bobbing, weaving,
To see who'd be the next big thing!
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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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
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Tamils and Tamil
All the villages connect to their town
And poorly connect one another.
All the Tamils hail Tamil
But ignores one another.
Villages and Tamils will not progress
27.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Head of State
Never does the head be strong,
As bravery comes against the belief
Of a Head of State who has a head
And a mind for belief, yet does not act.
His praises are for the population,
With so many gestures of the heart,
And so much justice for the learned,
Yet no living proof of success.
The leader is supposed to be the strongest man,
Yet those under him are like sheep,
Not are the sheep people.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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
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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
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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter I)
A man named Job, lived in Uz;
He was an upright, blameless man;
He was a God-fearing one too;
He turned away from all evil.
He was the greatest in the East;
He had a wife and children ten-
Three daughters and sons seven.
He owned a lot of animals-
Sheep- seven thousand,
Camels- three thousand,
Oxen in yoke- five hundred,
Female asses- five hundred,
Beasts of burden- many more!
His birthday was held by his sons;
Their sisters came to eat and drink;
Job blessed them all and sent away;
Next day, he offered burnt offerings;
He did this often telling God,
“Perhaps, my children have sinned, Lord! ”
When angels came before Yahweh,
Satan too joined them, one day;
The Lord asked him, “Whence do you come? ”
And Satan told, “By roaming earth,
And going on lands, back and forth.”
God asked, “Did you notice my servant Job?
There’s none like him upon the earth! ”
Satan said, “Does Job fear You for free? ”
“You placed a hedge around his house;
You’ve blessed his work in abundance;
Just touch his things; he’ll renounce You.”
God said, ‘You may test him but spare his life.’
So, Satan went from God to earth.
One day, when job with family ate,
A messenger gave him bad news:
‘Sabeans took your asses, oxen,
Killed all servants, just I escaped’
Another told, ‘God’s fire fell down
And burnt the sheep and servants all;
Just I escaped to tell you this.’
A third one said, ‘The Chaldeans
In three bands took camels away
Killed all servants and sped their way,
Just I escaped to tell today.’
A fourth one said, ‘A fierce wind came
Flattened your house and left all dead,
Just I escaped to tell you this! ’
Job shaved his head and tore his robe,
And fell upon the ground, prostrate.
He worshipped God, his Lord and said,
‘Naked I came from mother’s womb,
Now, naked shall I too return.
God gave and took; Bless’d be His name! ’
Job didn’t sin nor God, did he blame.
poem by John Celes
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Bondage
Bondage,
Mistreated,
Afflicted;
But in a land flowing with milk and honey,
Fo he Mafia sold her for money.
Of sheep,
Of oxen,
Of donkeys;
And they took all their wealth! !
But the edge of the sword was like the flints of war!
Bill, till, ill, kill, will, pill, dill, gill, fill, hill, mill, quill, rill! !
Mistreated under a severe bondage;
And the Mafia sold her for money.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Occupiers
The Occupiers
They came, the huddled masses, victims
of a war and pogrom far from our shores;
we gave them room at the inn, and on
our common land they could graze sheep.
They have now taken over the inn, stolen
our common land, bulldozed our villages
and uprooted olive trees to build roads we
cannot use, erected walls to keep us out.
They want us to leave to roam the world
as they did; we will not, we shall stay here
near our ancestors and the land and wait,
yes, wait till they uproot again and leave.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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