Noh care how boar hog try fi hide under sheep wool, 'im grunt always betray 'im.
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0271 The Covering
It was not bright enough, not bright enough
to show itself to them, to all; to tempt
the world to bring it gifts; the coloured wool
would say to them look here, look here
it was not strong enough, not strong enough
to meet the heat, the cold; to venture
in the world’s bright gifts; the coloured wool
would warm it in the cold, the cold
it was not safe enough, not safe enough
to shield itself from hurt; to live its life
amid the strong, the weak; the coloured wool
would hide it from the hurt, the hurt
there was not care enough, not care enough;
the wool was knotted; slipped and slid
around its centre there; the coloured wool
is knotted here and here and here
there is not time enough, not time enough
to free the wool; the wool it would cast off
from off its centre there; the coloured wool
that never was the need, the need
there were not words enough, not words enough
to free itself; itself which never had the need
to bind itself in coloured wools; it did not trust
the bright, the strong, the safe, the care, the time.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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If you don't collect the sheep early, you get neither the sheep nor the wool.
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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I Should Care
I should care
I should go around weeping
I should care
I should go without sleeping
Strangely enough I sleep well
'cept for a dream or two
But then I count my sheep well
Funny how sheep can love you to sleep
But I should care
I shouldn't let it upset me
I should care
But it just doesn't get me
Maybe I won't find someone
As lovely as you
But I should care
And I do
But I should care
And I do
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wool of a thousand sheep in good pasture at the least ought to yield fifty marks a year, the wool of two thousand one hundred marks, and so forth, counting by thousands.
quote by Robert Grosseteste
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Poem by The First Poet
i'm intrigued by the ur-poem
by allan j saywell
entitled grunt
which is
the first poem
by the first poet:
grunt
how do we know he was a poet
saywell he say so
but think about how
it happened
one day Grunt
for that was his name
listened
to himself saying grunt
and thought
that's quite a nice sound
if I say it carefully
it's got a sorta music to it
so he spent the rest of the day
giving it a swing
and a ring
and a dingadingding
his First Lady
(Laura)
liked it and smiled
and said
Grunty dear
although as a man
you're gorilla-dust and
although you still walk like a bush
that's music to my big ears
poets sure know
how to please a girl
and she gave him a big wet lippy kiss
the rest is pre-history
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Shepard
The kind, loving shepherd
Takes his hand, with the shears
And shaves his flock of sheep
One by one, fleecing them.
Gently, he makes the wool
To cover his raw skin,
Insulating his body
When the cold weather comes.
The sheep sleep in the snow,
Resting beside the fire.
The shepherd heats the pit,
Throwing wood on the pyre.
He cares for them, their needs;
He feeds them, gives water.
He tends to their living,
Paving their survival.
Then, late in ev'ry week,
When he becomes hungry,
He takes a soft sheep back
And slaughters it. Alone.
The other sheep do not know,
So, still, they will follow
Their generous master,
The kind, loving shepherd.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Two Found Poems in 'For Whom the Bell Tolls
'I believe
that I could walk up
to the mill and
knock on the door and
I would be welcome
except that they have orders
to challenge all travelers
and ask to see their papers.
It is only orders
that come between us.
Those men
are not fascists.
I call them so, but
they are not.
They are poor men,
as we are.'
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
'...he is finished
and as ended
as a boar
that has been altered.
...when the altering
has been accopmlished
and the squealing
is over
you cast
the two stones away
and the boar,
that is a boar no longer,
goes snounting
and rooting
up to them
and eats them.'
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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It is better to give away the wool than the sheep.
Upon the Road to Rockabout
Upon the road to Rockabout
I came upon some sheep -
A large and woolly flock about
As wide as it was deep.
I was about to turn about
To ask the man to tell
Some things I wished to learn about
Both sheep and wool as well,
When I beheld a rouseabout
Who lay upon his back
Beside a little house about
A furlong from the track.
I had a lot to talk about,
And said to him "Good day."
But he got up to walk about,
And so I went away -
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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After all, the wool of a black sheep is just as warm.
quote by Ernest Lehman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give me wool and tomorrow you will have a sheep.
It's a poor sheep that cannot carry its own wool.
The court of Rome likes not sheep without wool.