The milk of black goats and white goats is all the same.
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The Whale
The Whale is found in seas and oceans,
Indulging there in fishlike motions,
But Science shows that Whales are mammals,
Like Jersey cows, and goats, and camels.
When undisturbed, the Whale will browse
Like camels, goats, and Jersey cows,
On food that satisfies its tongue,
Thus making milk to feed its young.
Asking no costly hay and oats,
Like camels, Jersey cows, and goats,
The Whale, prolific milk producer,
Should be our cheapest lactic juicer.
Our milk should all come from the sea,
But who, I ask, would want to be—
And here the proposition fails—
The milkmaid to a herd of Whales?
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Wild Goats
Rock of escaping goats,
Your own eyes have seen this day;
But understand and perceive the muse of my love.
From evil doers comes evil deeds,
But i will pay homage to the things which are right;
And like the crags of the wild goats.
Give me a special blessing and let me love you,
Give me a special love and let me guide you,
Give me a special care and let me be with you always;
And she became the trap for him who was asleep.
On the crag of the wild goats,
Do love yourself first before loving me;
For you can't love others by hating yourself.
Rock of escaping goats,
I am a poor man and little known by you;
But my mind is faster than the bullets of war!
To the son-in-law of the king,
And to the daughter-in-law of the queen;
This is the time that i am free from war,
And like the rock of escaping goats.
Whose son is this boy?
Whose daughter is this girl?
Whose husband is this man?
Whose wife is this woman?
On the cage of the wild goast to take a rest;
But this is the day that Yahweh spoke of.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Tigers And Goats
Tigers and goats,
And the tigers ate up the goats;
But they will get the signals when the church bell rings,
And like Medo-Persia, Greece and Rome!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Goats
He sends prophets
For every ages and for every nations
You can not deny of having His messages
And He made each and every prophet
a shepherd in their early life
with a definite purpose
as prophets suppose to guide those
who are worse than the goats
push them ahead
they will pull you back
if you pull them back
they will drag you ahead
basic characteristics of goats.
So He sends shepherds in every age and for each nations
To guide us to reach the definite destination
To protect us from evils
But we never learn
And behave like goats..
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Hyperboles and Such
A bubble floats,
Will pass on by,
The cows and goats
Begin to cry.
The balloon falls dead.
The whip cracks dawn.
The frog prince hopes.
The jungle kings yawn.
Until then, the till now plows.
And earth now weeps for goats and cows.
poem by Jesse Swedlund
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Pedro, Pablo and Little José
I have spent an hour
lying in the sun
on Joe Brickle's farm
waiting for Pedro and Pablo
to fetch Little José
with his sickle and scythe
to cut down the high grass
so Pedro and Pablo
can gun their mowers
over the cowlicks.
After Joe Brickle died
the grass on his farm
soared to the sky.
His goats ate it all
till his son flew home
and trucked all the goats
to the slaughterhouse.
At Sadie's Cafe in town
old friends of Joe declare
goats bring a good dollar.
I have not wasted my time
lying in the sun today.
I've been watching
two doves on the ground
walking in circles
waiting for a sparrow
to land and dance on
the rungs of the feeder
Joe Brickle hung
in his Dogwood.
The doves need the seed
the sparrow will scatter.
Joe Brickle named goats
after prophets in the Bible.
He might be happy to know
that I've named the doves
Pedro and Pablo
and the sparrow
now landing
is Little José.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Males do not represent two discrete populations, heterosexual and homosexual. The world is not to be divided into sheeps and goats. Not all things are black nor all things white.
quote by Alfred Kinsey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goddess of the Goats
Full moon high in the sky
fog coming in
breaking like waves
against the hills and fences
Rudder was crying
baaing her silly head off
because
she couldn't find her baby
at 3am
and I
Goddess of the goats
get up from my warm bed
not that it mattered
since I was awake anyway
in my flannell pj's and rubber boots
find the baby
sleeping under what's left
of the catapah tree
a tiny little creature
smaller than the big ginger cat
who guards the farm
against invasions of rodents
when he feels the urge
I take the baby to Rudder
who sniffs it and decides
yes, this is my baby
you may go away now human
Fog rolls in
while in the shrine
erected in the hallow
of the one tree
left standing
candles burn down
smoke and fog uniting
Smoke and fog
moonlight on the fields
white goats shining in moonglow
dancing hooves in the night
whip-poor-will song
with cricket harmony
And I
Goddess of the Goats
with the knowlege
that all my goat girls
and their babies
are safe
can go back to bed
poem by Maggie DeMay
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Goats and Bread
Goats and bread are great additions to the menu,
For they attract the population and all they do is argue,
For the hills are attracted to joys of tailors
Who want their climbing done, as declarers.
For the hill tallest receives reward
From the clothed men who are to discard.
I release a mania on this world of hills
And receive a mountain of ordeal that chills.
Goats and bread are to be in the restaurant
Served with more wealth to the exuberant.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Wildy Ones
The sheep are in the silver wood,
The cows are in the broom;
The goats are in the wild mountain
And won't be home by noon.
My mother sang that olden tune
Most every night,
And to her newest she would croon
By candle light;
While cuddling in the velvet gloom
I'd dream of cows
That sought each dawn 'mid golden broom
To gently browse.
Or I would glimpse the silver wood,
The birchen glade,
Where pearly sheep in quiet mood
Cropped unafraid;
But how I loved in lapsing drowse
The mountain wild!
The goats were more than sheep and cows
To one wee child.
For cows and sheep are shelter-wise,
And love the lea;
While goats have starlight in their eyes,
In cragland free . . .
And now on edge of endless sleep
Wryly I note
How less I'm kin to kine and sheep
Than rebel goat!
poem by Robert William Service
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Eagles in a Canyon
soaring past the canyon walls
the babies hear their familiar calls
The parents are returning, synchronizing a stunt
to supply their babies with food from a hunt
This time the food was easy to fetch
for the goats were pushed, off the canyon's edge
To the rocks below, they fell to their death
now the pair zoomed in with no shortness of breath
bringing back to their babies, this elaborate catch
two baby goats for their chicks, a perfect match
Now they soar again, through the canyon walls
passing cascades of watery falls
To reach the tree, they call their own
and the beautiful home, they've always known.
(Charlie vergara/06.25.2009/15112)
poem by White Tiger
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Dark Meat Of Darkness
Discover a land so shadowed with darkness,
It spreads like dark flowers around the land.
The reality is bitter, falling away like silver has dropped
Into a chasm to be rebuilt as gold.
Retrieve this gold, when the goats of meat
Are cooked above a burning fire,
And then the gold can be filling the meat
So that it is worth more to eat.
To eat the gold, you must defeat
Shadows of the land, and the goats
Of meat have clung to the land then,
And after this you have paid for the good.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Goat Convention
The goats held a convention.
“We want liberation! ”
They bleated boldly.
“I want to hear concrete suggestions”,
Advised the chairman gently.
“And tabula rasa”, he added.
The result, however,
Was only a long and silent pause.
Eventually though one goat rose
To say something.
He cleared his throat
And valiantly addressed the assembly:
“Our liberation and the struggle
To achieve equal rights go hand in hand.
So, in view of the fact
That men can wear goatees,
I propose that we goats also start
To wear manly fashioned beards”.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Temple And City Were Destroyed In 70 A.D.!
“And from the assembly of the sons of Israel he should take two male kids of the goats for a sin offering and one ram as a burnt offering” Leviticus 16: 5
The high priest must draw lots over the two goats
one lot for ADONAI and the other lot for Azazel.
The high priest must present the goat over whose
lot fell to ADONAI as a sin offering. But the goat
whose lot fell to Azazel should be stood alive before
ADONAI to make atonement for it, by sending it
away into the desert for Azazel.
to cast the lots upon
the two male kid goats
were two lot stones
one white and one black
upon the white stone was written the words
“For the Lord”
upon the black stone was written the words “For Azazal”
Azazal the chosen goat
that was to be sent away
the goat to be banished
these two symbolic stones were
placed at time of the lot choosing
in a container and priest shaken
then the high priest without looking must choose the sin offering he must put in his right hand inside
and draw out one of the two lots!
The Babylonian Talmud records that for over two hundred years before
the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 30 A.D.
the chosen first stone
to appear in the
lot grasped right hand
of the high priest fluctuated arbitrarily
between the white
and black stone
each year unpredictably
as God selected the most perfect
goat to be slain
or released for atonement
of sins on behalf
of all the Jewish people!
How strange miraculous
that beginning with Messiah prophisized
Day of Atonement in 30 A.D.
the year of the death
and resurrection
of our Lord Jesus Christ
that the black lot stone appeared in the right
hand of the high priest
for the next 39 years unfailingly!
What are the chances of that?
The chances of the black lot stone
“For Azazal”
appearing 40 consecutive times in the right hand of the high priest is over
a trillion to one according
to the odds of numerical probability how bizarre!
Was the constant appearance of the black stone in the right
hand of the high priest a sign?
Was it a sign of our God's displeasure with the House of Judah a warning to repent?
What if anything happened after forty years of a black lot stone appearing as continuous warning
in the right hand of the high priest?
Fulfillment of the scary prophetic
black lot stone came when Jerusalem
and Holy Temple were destroyed in
70 A. D. by the Roman Empire. Titus began the siege on April14th
70A.D. exactly forty years to the
day after Christ’s crucifixion on April14th 30 A.D. at Golgotha! Where Christ died for thee and me.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also Forty Years Of Warning and The Fall Of The Temple In 70 A.D.!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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
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The Billy-Goat Overland
Come all ye lads of the droving days, ye gentlemen unafraid,
I'll tell you all of the greatest trip that ever a drover made,
For we rolled our swags, and we packed our bags, and taking our lives in hand,
We started away with a thousand goats, on the billy-goat overland.
There wasn't a fence that'd hold the mob, or keep 'em from their desires;
They skipped along the top of the posts and cake-walked on the wires.
And where the lanes had been stripped of grass and the paddocks were nice and green,
The goats they travelled outside the lanes and we rode in between.
The squatters started to drive them back, but that was no good at all,
Their horses ran for the lick of their lives from the scent that was like a wall:
And never a dog had pluck or gall in front of the mob to stand
And face the charge of a thousand goats on the billy-goat overland.
We found we were hundreds over strength when we counted out the mob;
And they put us in jail for a crowd of theives that travelled to steal and rob:
For every goat between here and Bourke, when he scented our spicy band,
Had left his home and his work to join in the billy-goat overland.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A young man who liked to rock boats
In order to get people's goats
Gave just one more rock
Then suffered a shock
A bubble the spot now denotes.
quote by by E.B. White
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A White Australia
They had a clear policy
For letting people stay
If your face was white you fitted
If not then sent away.
They included on their census
Cattle, sheep and goats
They excluded Aborigines
As incidental folks.
It was a white Australia
An Australia so pure
It's rarely talked about these days
It's seen as immature.
But white Australia lives on
Think of all those refugees
For they are held behind barbed wire
As dangerous detainees.
This side of this Australia
Is something i implore
Everyone around the world
Not just to ignore.
poem by David Keig
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
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There’s a black child (in answer to fanie olivier)
There’s a black child
finding his way with goats through the cliffs
and his hair is blown in the wind
while grasses are braiding galloping around his feet.
He knows of the urge to want more,
how to take with force,
to draw his cross on the ballot paper, to say his say
and his feet walk on a dusty road
and in the dark night some of the tribe
gather around the fires, where spears are being melted
leaders armed with rifles arrive, who talk about plundering
torture and murder
and they are laughing as the war is over,
on what their hands fall they can take,
when suddenly they strike
a shaking white woman is raped
and there’s darkness hanging black over the country,
a darkness that no light can pierce,
with black faces smiling
in a circle around the fire.
[Reference: “by ruacana” (at ruacana) by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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