Goat
Lots of goat for dinner
Is all had on a skewer,
My kingdom has survived,
The lids of your eyes
Are lifted and they see
The meat of the kings
In consumption.
Force the goat to be eaten
By converting the king
To your crevice.
Food has might,
Food is the whim of our land.
We ghosts are relaxed tonight,
From the worry of the horror,
Frightened again by the double,
Load the goat into the pot and eat.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sacrifice
Nothing has been occupying my minds,
I have all the requirements for them to be classed as two,
For I have double-vision as to the religion of my thought,
I am not guilty and I have no stigma,
Merely the goat has been slain by its owner
For the worn garment, and the delicious meat it endows.
What is century after century of sacrifice when a life has been
Rectified for all the days in it?
Why do we keep lunar years for these praises and festivals
When every year seemed to be carried?
Where is my food, O mother! Why does the goat hurt when it is dissected?
It is a child that speaks hostility and not a stranger can even desire this speech.
We can sacrifice all we want, when we want, and however we want
As long as rivers and oceans shall curve with water.
Water makes it abundantly clear, like the blood that wreaks from the neck
Of a dead goat. Always the sacrifice is made on this time in the calendar.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Holiday meals
Here's a poem that will get your goat
But my goat ate my poem.
I'll get him for that
He ate all that i wrote.
I wrote such wounderous words
And all he does is burp
It's absurd.
Now all I can do
Is not let him get my goat
The words that I wrote
Were hastey and few
The goat that I had made such a great stew.
Goat Hill
Goat Hill
Walking out the door that man told me to go to hell
My son asked mommy where’s Goat Hill
I said I don’t know son it must be through the valley
My son said mommy lets go there
Up to goat hill
I bet it’s on top of the mountain
I bet there is waterfalls, birds, trees, pretty flowers for all the butterflies and honey bees
I said son if we could I’m sure we would
Most definitely go up to goat hill
I’m not ever going to take you where that man said to go
That place is an internal melting pot
And its way to hot
There’s no mountains with snow on top
No waterfalls trees birds butterflies or honey bees in the place that man said to go
Son I know you are good
Some day together I believe we will find the place called Goat Hill
You found somewhere in your mind
Where life is gentle and Kind
Everyday and every night all the time
Son I bet up on Goat Hill we will only see Gods will being done by the Father and the Son
poem by E.Marie AldrichCreasy
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What for? If only the goat can tell.
O! The silly goat could have been a dove
White and meek
Soundless in the journey to air
Dove to another dove
Satisfied from among its likes
The horns could have been feathers
In a bird’s body
Another completing dove could have waited
Only if the silly goat knew
The transfiguration of its feet to claw
Its whiskers to beak
The goat’s life would have been complete
And fulfilled
But this the silly goat will never know
& learn and untie
& solve the crazy knot
That it has never untangled
Never has he learned from all the ages
Of his grass life
The seeds that the dove peck
And keep on its throat down to its guts
Its tummy
The goat stays
In the open field
Preoccupied with grass
And grass alone
Abiding by the rules of his master
Imprisoned in its cage
To the rules of their games
Suffering
But never understands the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The more the billy goat stinks, the more the nanny goat loves him.
A man and a goat can be friends but it would be foolishness for the goat to pay the first visit.
Do not try to cook the goat's young in the goat's milk.
If you put a silk dress on a goat, he is a goat still.
If you put a silk suit on a goat it is still a goat.
The eye of the leopard is on the goat, and the eye of the goat is on the leaf.
In Your Dwelling Place
Substance,
Elements,
Dwelling places;
Do not be afraid when someone becomes rich!
For he or she will take nothing away when he or she dies.
Adopt, adapt, approved!
From the rising of the sun to its going down,
And like the perfect beauty in the land of your muse;
But a he-goat and a she-goat are now seen in your dwelling places.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The goat says: ""Where there is blood, there is plenty of food.""
You Are Always With Me
One young goat,
One fat cow,
For, you are always with me!
And, all that i have are reserved for you.
One fat goat,
One young cow,
But, try to humble yourselves in this life;
And serve one another in peace,
For, you are always with me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A good kid goat comes from a young goat and a good lamb from a strong sheep.
An Arab Shepherd Is Searching For His Goat On Mount Zion
An Arab shepherd is searching for his goat on Mount Zion
And on the opposite hill I am searching for my little boy.
An Arab shepherd and a Jewish father
Both in their temporary failure.
Our two voices met above
The Sultan's Pool in the valley between us.
Neither of us wants the boy or the goat
To get caught in the wheels
Of the "Had Gadya" machine.
Afterward we found them among the bushes,
And our voices came back inside us
Laughing and crying.
Searching for a goat or for a child has always been
The beginning of a new religion in these mountains.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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