The more shepherds there are, the worse the flocks are watched.
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Our Dreams
Your colour is red and my colour is blue,
But one day i will stop cooking and watch you at the kitchen;
And like the shepherds who never watched their flocks by night,
For the cold nights of love is with the care of our dreams!
But i can smeel a rat from afar.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Flocks Need More Shepherds
Shepherds are turning scarcer, day by day!
Fragmented flocks have lesser sheep in fold;
With many lost, many sheep go astray;
Devils on rampage trouble, young and old.
Meadows have lesser grass that's succulent;
More sheep want better grass, water to drink;
The climes these days are turning turbulent;
The few shepherds are old-aged, on death's brink!
Shepherdless stay some flocks for many days;
They do not know the shepherd or his call!
The shepherd does not know his sheep by face;
From wolves' attack, there is no staff to stall!
Yet, God will find the shepherds in strange ways;
All righteous find their way through earthly maze!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-07-12
poem by John Celes
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Nymphs And Shepherds
Nymphs and shepherds, come away.
In this grove let's sport and play,
For this is Flora's holiday,
Sacred to ease and happy love,
To dancing, to music and to poetry;
Your flocks may now securely rest
Whilst you express your jollity.
Nymphs and shepherds, come away.
poem by Thomas Shadwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shepherds in Judea
Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are pacing to and fro.
For the air grows chill at twilight
And the weanling lambs are slow!
Leave, O lambs, the dripping sedges, quit the bramble and the brier,
Leave the fields of barley stubble, for we light the watching fire;
Twinkling fires across the twilight, and a bitter watch to keep,
Lest the prowlers come a-thieving where the flocks unguarded sleep.
Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are singing soft and low—
Song the blessed angels taught them
All the centuries ago!
There was never roof to hide them, there were never walls to bind;
Stark they lie beneath the star-beams, whom the blessed angels find,
With the huddled flocks upstarting, wondering if they hear aright.
While the Kings come riding, riding, solemn shadows in the night.
Oh, the Shepherds in Judea,
They are thinking, as they go,
Of the light that broke their watching
On the hillside in the snow!—
Scattered snow along the hillside, white as springtime fleeces are,
With the whiter wings above them and the glory-streaming star—
Guiding-star across the housetops; never fear the Shepherds felt
Till they found the Babe in manger where the kindly cattle knelt.
Oh, the Shepherds in Judea!—
Do you think the Shepherds know
How the whole round earth is brightened
In the ruddy Christmas glow?
How the sighs are lost in laughter, and the laughter brings the tears,
As the thoughts of men go seeking back across the darkling years
Till they find the wayside stable that the star-led Wise Men found,
With the Shepherds, mute, adoring, and the glory shining round!
poem by Mary Austin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Today the tyrant rules not by club or fist, but disguised as a market researcher, he shepherds his flocks in the ways of utility and comfort.
quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Better Or Worse
Verse1:
You could walk behind me
Or you could hold my hand
You could know me fully
Or never understand
And you can drive me crazy
Like only you can
Lifes blessing, lifes curse,
For better or worse
Verse2:
You could leave me stranded
Or hold me with your eyes
Come home empty handed
Or with a brilliant surprise
And you could sing me love songs
Or just make me blue
Lifes blessing, lifes curse,
For better or worse
Im with you
Bridge:
Sure there are plenty of fish in the sea
Flocks of birds on the rise
Baby, not for me
cause I live in paradise
Verse3:
And if harms way found you
You know Id be there
To wrap my love around you
To let you know I care
And when the angels came down
Id say dont you dare
You know not what you do
May God take me first
For better or worse
I love you
May God take me first
For better or worse
I love you
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am being watched..
Wherever I go, I am watched,
even to the loo, I am watched,
While driving the car,
crossing the signals,
Walking in the malls,
Talking in the halls,
I am watched.
When the smoking alarms go on,
I am watched.
When the traffic tickets issued,
I am watched.
When the bills are not paid,
I am watched.
When the bills are over due,
I am warned.
When my accounts are watched,
when my status is watched,
when my orientation is watched,
What freedom do I talk about?
When my finger prints are stored,
When my eyes are photographed,
When photographs are safe kept,
What freedom do I have?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shepherd's Wife's Song
Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
And sweeter, too:
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:
Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:
He kisseth first, then sits at blithe to eat
His cream and curds, as doth a king his meat,
And blither, too:
For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:
To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,
As is a king in dalliance with a queen;
More wanton, too:
For kings have many griefs, affects to move,
Where shepherds have no greater grief than love:
Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his bed of down;
More sounder, too:
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:
Thus, with his wife, he spends the year as blithe
As doth the king at every tide or sithe,
And blither, too:
For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
Where shepherds laugh and love upon the land:
Ah then, ah then,
Since country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
poem by Robert Greene
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You've Been Watched
You've been watched.
No matter what you think you have,
Or haven't got.
You've been watched a lot.
You've been watched.
No matter what you think you have,
Or haven't got.
You've been watched a lot.
Whenever you misbehave,
You've been watched a lot.
Whatever it is you say,
You've been watched a lot.
It would behoove if you,
Turned it up a notched.
You've been watched.
No matter what you think you have,
Or haven't got.
You've been watched a lot.
You've been watched.
No matter what you might have,
Or might have not.
You've been watched a lot.
There are snoopers dedicated.
You've been watched a lot.
No matter how careful you make it.
You've been watched a lot.
Even simple things you do...
They may say you do that too!
You've been watched.
No matter what you think you have,
Or haven't got.
You've been watched a lot.
You've been watched.
No matter what you think you have,
Or haven't got.
You are being watched nonstop.
There are snoopers dedicated.
You've been watched a lot.
No matter how careful you make it.
You've been watched a lot.
Even simple things you do...
They may say you do that too!
People are so fascinated,
They fantasize you being naked.
You've been watched,
Around the clock.
You are being watched...
Nonstop.
You've been watched,
Around the clock.
You are being watched...
Nonstop.
You've been watched,
Around the clock.
You are being watched...
Nonstop.
Nonstop.
You've been watched!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Go, Tell It On The Mountain
Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain
Our jesus christ is born
When I was just a learner
I sought by night and day
To have the good lord help me
To guide me on my way
For I am like a shepherd
My hopes and faith to guard
Each day I find the answer
And love is my reward
Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain
Our jesus christ is born
The shepherds kept their watching
Oer silent flocks by night
When lo! throughout the heavens
There shone a holy light
The shepherds feared and trembled
When high above the earth
Rang out an angels chorus
To hail our saviors birth
Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain
Our jesus christ is born
Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go, tell it on the mountain
Our jesus christ is born
Our jesus, jesus christ is born
That jesus christ is born
Go and tell, tell it on the mountain
That jesus christ, christ is born
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auer
The rights of the needy,
And like the shepherds with their flocks last night;
But try to know yourself and be yourself always!
For i am Auer with the writer's ink,
And i am based in the land of your sweet muse.
Soft and sweet,
Hard and romantic!
But i still feel like helping all in this world with my sweet muse;
And like your peace behind the walls to hear the views of others as well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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’Tis Easter-time Again!
Easter is coming, once again;
It is a boon and not a bane;
The year is two thousand and seven;
’Tis time to prepare your soul for heaven.
Follow the road taken by Christ’s cross;
Offer your sorrows to Jesus, the boss;
This is the time to sacrifice;
Make up your mind to give up all vice!
Forgive and forget your neighbors’ faults;
Bear not witness against him false;
Waste not time and never tell lies;
A Christian ought to be soul-wise.
Jesus died to rise again;
His sufferings were not in vain;
He left His Holy Spirit here,
For us to live, without any fear.
Prepare your soul by good confession;
Do your penance with passion;
Where are the Shepherds? Where are the flocks?
Where are the men of God in white frocks?
Open your heart to Jesus Christ-
The Son of the One, Living God praised;
If your flocks have gone astray,
Go search and bring them in Christ’s way!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red sky at night is a shepherds delight, red sky in the morning is a shepherds warning.
Catholic Priesthood and ‘Year of the Priests’
‘The sheep are calling;
The flocks are swelling;
Good shepherds are a dearth,
Upon the mighty earth! ’
All sheep need good shepherds;
Sans shepherds good, they are mere herds,
That cannot find the pastures green,
With grass that’s fit on global scene.
Good shepherds know each sheep by name;
They do not work for pay or fame;
They know the wolf’s, many a game;
Their staff protects the sheep that’s lame!
Priests are the good shepherds of God;
They woo the souls away from rod;
They serve by being celibate,
And show humanity, God’s Gate.
They say the Holy Mass each day;
They preach and fast, fervently pray;
They drive the devils out, away,
Suffer for Jesus, come what may!
They change bread to body of Christ;
They change the wine to blood of Christ;
They forgive sins like Jesus Lord;
They tell the world the Divine Word.
Priesthood is one of sacraments;
Priests know the Old, New Testaments;
Their work is worth more than all gold;
They bring more souls unto God’s fold!
This is the ‘Year of Catholic priest’.
Lord Jesus waits with His great Feast;
Happy are souls, even the least;
God saves all sinners from the Beast.
Priests take vows for a divine role –
To lead souls to God’s Abode – goal.
Those worldly ones are merely fools!
God chooses priests to be pure souls.
‘Priesthood is passion great for Christ –
The profession that’s one highest;
The goal of men who are wisest –
Who live for Jesus’ sake, diest.’
Dedicated to all Catholic Priests world-over,
On behalf of ‘Holy Family Church Parish, Perundurai, TN, India.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 28-6-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Patriarch
as a boy he knew never to laugh on an island that never wept
an island whipped hard by the southern sun
where shepherds herded flocks to high pastures
and fishermen turned open boats to open sea
mornings he climbed the cliffs above the village
to where the sea birds wait out the night
from there listened to the splintered lyric of things such as they are
poem by Paul Bamberger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Passionate Shepherd to his Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Watched
Pediatric E.R, R.I.P 11/5/09 (Volunteer work can be tough)
I watched…
A heartbreaking scene today
But I couldn’t take
my eyes away
I watched …
I feel shamed to say
I watched
a little girl die today
I watched …
an anguished EMT cry
I watched nurses drawn faces
I watched a little girl die
I watched …
Just outside the doors
The Frantic CPR applied
With frantic, futile force
I watched
Her mother fearfully enter the room
To be seated by her side
To share in her impending doom
I watched
A strange, unsettling scene
Upturned faces as if in prayer
hopefully watch the vitals screen
I watched
A life dissipate and fade
On a bed
That I had newly made
I watched…
At least a half hour they tried
With wondrous machines, marvelous medicines
Yet still, this little girl died
I watched…
Then I heard a small whimpering cry!
But It was only the mother
As she saw her child die
I watched…
Her arms outspread, her mom at her side
Young staring eyes so angelicly appealing
I watched, sadly watched….then I also cried.
poem by David Whalen
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We are like ignorant shepherds living on a site where great civilizations once flourished. The shepherds play with the fragments that pop up to the surface, having no notion of the beautiful structures of which they were once a part.
quote by Allan Bloom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pastoral Sung To The King
MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDS
MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.
MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
The feast of shepherds fail. SIL. None crowns the cup
Of wassail now, or sets the quintel up:
And he, who used to lead the country-round,
Youthful Mirtillo, here he comes, grief-drown'd.
AMBO. Let's cheer him up. SIL. Behold him weeping-ripe.
MIRT. Ah, Amarillis! farewell mirth and pipe;
Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play
To these smooth lawns, my mirthful roundelay.
Dear Amarillis! MON. Hark! SIL. Mark! MIRT. This
earth grew sweet
Where, Amarillis, thou didst set thy feet.
AMBO Poor pitied youth! MIRT. And here the breath
of kine
And sheep grew more sweet by that breath of thine.
This dock of wool, and this rich lock of hair,
This ball of cowslips, these she gave me here.
SIL. Words sweet as love itself. MON. Hark!--
MIRT. This way she came, and this way too she went;
How each thing smells divinely redolent!
Like to a field of beans, when newly blown,
Or like a meadow being lately mown.
MON. A sweet sad passion----
MIRT. In dewy mornings, when she came this way,
Sweet bents would bow, to give my Love the day;
And when at night she folded had her sheep,
Daisies would shut, and closing, sigh and weep.
Besides (Ai me!) since she went hence to dwell,
The Voice's Daughter ne'er spake syllable.
But she is gone. SIL. Mirtillo, tell us whither?
MIRT. Where she and I shall never meet together.
MON. Fore-fend it, Pan! and Pales, do thou please
To give an end... MIRT. To what? SIL. Such griefs
as these.
MIRT. Never, O never! Still I may endure
The wound I suffer, never find a cure.
MON. Love, for thy sake, will bring her to these hills
And dales again. MIRT. No, I will languish still;
And all the while my part shall be to weep;
And with my sighs call home my bleating sheep;
And in the rind of every comely tree
I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee.
MON. Set with the sun, thy woes! SIL. The day
grows old;
And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold.
CHOR. The shades grow great; but greater grows
our sorrow:--
But let's go steep
Our eyes in sleep;
And meet to weep
To-morrow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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For Jack Osbourne (We Watched You Grow)
We watched you grow
from a child to a man
We watched you mature
into a kind and gentle soul
We watched you fight
your addictions and your lows
We watched your loving family
stand by your side
Now you watch the world
stand by you
as you fight your biggest fight
We watched you grow
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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