His Height
Do not look at his appearance or at his height,
Do not look at his face and at his handsomeness,
For i do hear the bleating of Eliab's sheep.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Eliab
Mankind has not changed at all!
And these acts of wars are for us all;
But blessed are those who keep the laws.
Eliab, come and let us teach the people how to love one another;
For their swords had made women childless.
Eliab, come and let us change the people from hate;
For their swords had made women childless.
Their rebellion is as witchcraft!
But how many people are they ready to kill in the Valley of Elah?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Bleating of the Sheep
Lo, I listened to the bleating of the sheep
Squatters' sheep
And I sat me down and pondered long and deep.
And a cloud of gloom came o'er me
At the empty leagues before me
Yea, I marked the virgin grass-lands' mighty sweep
Land that called for cultivation;
Cried aloud for population
Land that carried trees and fences, grass and sheep.
0, I listened to their bleating on the plain
Virgin plain
And I spoke to them with epithets profane.
In the valley, on the hill,
Yet were sheep, and more sheep still.
(Which annoyed me very much, I must explain.
For one sheep may he a blessing,
But a million are depressing.)
And I cursed them, but I knew I cursed in vain.
Lo! and then I fell a-dreaming where I sat
Sadly sat
Till I didn't see what I was looking at.
And my dream was most alluring.
Ah ! But, had it been enduring,
What a reckoning it would have been for Fat!
What a blessing for Australia
If my dream - but inter alia,
I'll explain to you what I am driving at.
Lo! (excuse this weird redundancy of 'lo,'
Soulful 'lo';
But I want to be impressive, you must know).
Lo! instead of jumbucks bleating,
I could hear the reaper's beating;
And I saw abundant milk and honey flow.
I espied snug homesteads dotted
O'er the plain. I also spotted
Towns, with factories and workshops, rise and grow.
Ay, at busy line of commerce filled the place
Desert place
And mine eyes beheld a happy populace
Wresting from the land its treasure
Loving work and earning leisure.
Industry and population grew apace.
I could hear the hammers ringing;
Happy housewives blithely singing;
And I read Prosperity in every face.
Then I saw a file of troops go marching past
Bravely past.
Adown the plain I heard the bugle's blast.
I beheld the banners streaming,
And I fancied in my dreaming
That our happy country owned an army vast.
As each patriot marched proudly
By, he cried, exulting loudly,
'Fair Australia is safely ours at last!'
Then a large, red man rode up upon a horse,
(Large roan horse),
And spoke to me in strident tones and coarse.
And his discourse was (diluted)
'Wanderers are prosecuted
On this crimson run. Now get!' I got - of course.
As I've said, the man was bulky,
And he seemed morose and sulky;
And it just occurred to me he might use force.
But, in spite of him, my dream I still may keep
Fondly keep.
And from out it sprouts the wisdom that I reap
For the benefit of all men,
But especially of little men.
(Meaning men whose wealth does not exceed one heap.)
Ay, the lesson is before you
Pray forgive me if I bore you;
But, my brothers, heed the lesson of the sheep!
For, hark ye, hear the bleating of the sheep
Human sheep!
(O, my brothers, but their sheephood makes me weep!)
Mark ye, how they flock togeth
After some old, sly bell-wether
One that Fat finds it convenient to keep;
Watch them how they follow, follow.
See the verbal weeds they swallow,
And the squatter keeps his grass for paying sheep.
O, the squatter has of woolly sheep a lot
Quite a lot;
But they're not the only sort of sheep he's got.
How he profits by their fleeces
And, when price of meat decreases
Human meat - the butcher, Fat, will take the lot.
O, ye farmers and selectors!
Landless voters! Free electors!
Think, my brothers: are ye sheep, or are ye not?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Sushmit
In all this crowded fog
Amidst the bleating sheep
Slow pace my land revolves
One glimpse
Shall change all I see
poem by Natasha Elavia
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A Dream Of Gortavehy
A bright and sunny Summer's day the lark pipes in the sky
And the fragrant scent of flowering gorse and the hill sheep bleating nigh
I lay here on a bracken patch by sunlit mountain lake
In dreamy mood the mood we know when we lay half awake.
To get a break from cares of life the need to be alone
And where better than a place like this by bracken hill of stone
And Gortavehy beautiful on sunny Summer's day
But every day not warm in June and June has a brief stay.
The sunshine it feels wonderful I lay on bracken ground
And I the only person here there's no one else around
And peace so welcome to the soul it gently comes to me
And sheep are bleating on the hill and larks pipe merrily.
The currawongs are calling in the wood across the way
And white backed magpie piping on high branch of mountain gray
And rain is gently falling on a Sherbrooke Winter's day
And I'd been to Gortavehy a half a World away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!
Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.
I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?
our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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Appearance can be deceiving. A wolf can disguise himself as a sheep.
My favorite part of my appearance is my height. I'm five foot one and I feel feminine being small.
quote by Alanna Ubach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Responsible For Its Existence
The more the nonsense is given,
Reason to publicly fly...
The more those responsible for its existence,
Try to legitimize...
The height and thickness of its appearance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thine Handsome Face
Before i knew thine handsome face
Ignorant i'd been in the dark
Trembling finger tips caressed my weary brow
Leaving a golden embellished mark
For then what 'tis it- The firmament has?
That cannot be found within your Soul?
Into the Light of your pure handsomeness i am
And out i am from this abyss-like hole!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Hair is also a problem. I remember once, when I was reporting from Beirut at the height of the civil war, someone wrote in to the BBC complaining about my appearance.
The Shepherdess
She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;
She keeps them from the steep;
She feeds them on the fragrant height,
And folds them in for sleep.
She roams maternal hills and bright,
Dark valleys safe and deep.
Into that tender breast at night
The chastest stars may peep.
She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.
She holds her little thoughts in sight,
Though gay they run and leap.
She is so circumspect and right;
She has her soul to keep.
She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Sheep
From where I stand the sheep stand still
As stones against the stony hill.
The stones are gray
And so are they.
And both are weatherworn and round,
Leading the eye back to the ground.
Two mingled flocks -
The sheep, the rocks.
And still no sheep stirs from its place
Or lifts its Babylonian face.
poem by Robert Francis
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The Lady of the Lambs
She walks -- the lady of my delight --
A shepherdess of sheep.
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;
She guards them from the steep.
She feeds them on the fragrant height,
And folds them in for sleep.
She roams maternal hills and bright,
Dark valleys safe and deep.
Her dreams are innocent at night;
The chastest stars may peep.
She walks -- the lady of my delight --
A shepherdess of sheep.
She holds her little thoughts in sight,
Though gay they run and leap.
She is so circumspect and right;
She has her soul to keep.
She walks -- the lady of my delight --
A shepherdess of sheep.
poem by Alice Meynell
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My appearance was always good and my ability to play on the piano, especially ragtime, which was then at the height of its vogue, made me a welcome guest.
quote by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lambs On The Road
The lambs on the road were dismayed
Bleating all along they wandered
There lay the slain shepherd
The sun descended.
A flock lost!
The new sky was cast ever clouded
The men from the East never frowned
Their wisdom was long before eroded
And their return was irredeemably abandoned.
A nightmare unveiled!
The lambs still bleated along the road winding
They were to reach a peak triumphing.
The shepherd was thenceforth forgotten for ever!
And the bleating had given way for a shout of joy before.
An euphoria unyielding!
The bleating music has been on and on
The shepherd has somewhere been laid to rest.
The new shepherd first looks around and up on the peak.
But there is no road descending from atop
A truth spoken!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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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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Leave Nature to Nature
Have you ever seen the offspring of a cross between a sheep and goat
Of the parents in the young one you can see a bit of both
With the physical appearance of a goat and sheep strange as that may appear
Born of an act of Nature and in Nature of stranger things one does hear.
And anything in Nature is never a strange thing
A cross between a starling and a myna has a pleasant song to sing
But when humans tamper with Nature 'tis there the wrong comes in
Though some with their degrees on natural science respect for their work do win.
On what happens within Nature humans should not have a say
And leave Nature to Nature she does things her own way
Some results of Nature may seem quite strange to see
But what happens within Nature happens naturally.
Humans do not tamper with Nature leave Nature to her own device
Every time we tamper with her for to pay there is some price
The mad cow disease is one example when meat and bone to cows was fed
Just one of the many bad results of humans tampering with Nature one might say enough said.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Good Shepherd
The ninety and nine safely in the fold lay
But this one sheep had foolishly gone astray
And as he lay bleating all lost and afraid
The Good Shepherd heard his cry and came to his aid.
All through the wilderness the Good Shepherd went
To seek and save the lost sheep was His intent
Fierce ravening wolves pursued Him all the way
and the thorns tore His flesh throughout that day.
All through the night he toiled and did not sleep
For he was determined to rescue and save His lost sheep
Even though in Gethsemane drops of blood He sweat
He would not be dissuaded from the pathway set.
Then when He came to Golgotha's steep Hill
He did not hesitate but He carried on still
Onward and upward He went to be crucified
And there on the cross for His sheep He died.
Stricken and smitten of God was He
And by His stripes I have been set free
The price of my sins by His blood he paid
And all my iniquity upon Him was laid.
The Bulls of Bashan tore at His side
And the gates of Hell were opened wide
He entered Death and Hades to pay the price
Offering His body as the perfect sacrifice.
Deep wounds in His hands and feet he bore
Head torn by the crown of thorns He wore
Alone He suffered Thirsty and bleeding
As there for His sheep He was interceding.
Lesser shepherds and hireling would have fled
But He stood firm and for His sheep He bled
Enduring such suffering in order to save
This poor lost sheep from Hell and the grave.
He lifted me out of the miry clay
and upon His shoulders I gently lay
all through the vale of death to heaven
Bringing me into the security of the pen.
Written after reading John 10: 11-15—11