The Shearer
The helplessness
of old age
the shearer
cutting the dags
from the sheep
freeing them from wool
encrusted with fly-blown shit
and maggots
got crossed in my mind
with my father's dementia.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cutting It Fine
The door swings open but you wont go it
You hate the movie that you havent seen
You couldnt see what I have in mind
I see you laughing but youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
You never should have done those things to me
Theres one thread left tween you and history
And while our temperature is rising high
Im warning you that you are
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
You gambled all on one important game
Now take the debt and dont complain
Your game was up, I saw it all the time
I saw that vice, girl, youre
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Your sole advisor watch out for yourself
You never listen to anyone else
You were the one who ignored the signs
Dancing on a fine line
Cutting it, cutting it fine
Cutting it, cutting it fine...
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.
Times is Hard
Please don't burn our shit-house down,
Mother has promised to pay.
Father's away on the ocean wave,
And sister's in the family way,
Brother dear has gonorrhea,
And times is fucking hard.
So please don't burn our shit-house down,
Or we'll all have to shit in the yard.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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It's Grand
It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.
It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.
It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.
It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.
It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.
It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.
It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.
It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.
It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.
It's grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Maggots in my Meatloaf
The maggots in my meatloaf,
Often cause me too much strife.
They take advantage of me,
And they need to get a life!
The fattest one he asked me...
'May I have a piece of ham?
Will you make some fish and chips?
Or a little leg of lamb? '
The skinny one she asked me...
'Could you spare a yummy yam?
Do you have extra ketchup?
Are you out of red plum jam? '
The maggots in my meatloaf,
They sure have a lot of nerve!
I don't mind if they eat here...
But my kitchen is SELF-SERVE! ! !
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I get whatever placidity I have from my father. But my mother taught me how to take it on the chin.
quote by Norma Shearer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Fault
Lord I must be dreaming
What else could this be
Everybodys screaming
Running for the sea
Holy lands are sinking
Birds take to the sky
The prophets are all stinking drunk
I know the reason why
Eyes are full of desire
Mind is so ill at ease
Everything is on fire
Shit piled up to the knees
Out of rhyme or reason
Everyones to blame
Children of the season
Dont be lame
Sorry, youre so sorry
Dont be sorry
Man has known it
Now hes blown it
Up-side down and hells the only way
We did an awful job
And now they say its nobodys fault
Old st. andres
Seven years ago
Shove it up their richters
Red light stop and go
Noble men of courage
Listen with their ears
Spoke but how discouraging
When no one really hears
One of these days youll be sorry
Too many houses on stilt
Three milion years or just a story
Four on the floor up to the hilt
(chorus)
Out of rhyme or reason
Everyones to blame
Children of the season
Dont be lame
Sorry, youre so sorry
Dont be sorry
Man has known it
Now hes blown it
Up-side down and hells the only way
We did an awful job
And now were just a little too late
Eyes are full of desire
Mind is so ill at ease
Everything is on fire
Shit piled up in debris
California showtime
Five oclocks the news
Everybodys concubine
Was prone to take a snooze
Sorry, youre so sorry
Dont be sorry
Man has known it
Now hes blown it
Up-side down and hells the only way
We did an awful job
And now were just a little too late
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Fall in love with Dementia?
"I Fall in love with Dementia? "
…"It is very sad world
Those who fall in love with
'Dementia'
Without knowing the past medical record
I was unfortunate to fall in love with?
How will I ever divorce my sincere love?
Dementia she has no interest in me no more!
Totally lost taste in life?
Acting as a stranger in my life.
How do I forget my love?
And divorce my life from Dementia?
She was only my life when I ever met
Today I cry alone Dementia recognized me no more!
'I love you'
Seem no value by name Dementia to her
Was I not unfortunate to fall into loving nest?
Please tell his or her
I still love Dementia?
Till God part us apart between us.
It is not our mistake to fall in love with Dementia but
To search for clue myself how much actually I do
Love Dementia in life once beauties drive my lonely hearts.
Those who are in love with
Dementia please take care of
It inspire all nation beauty of Dementia
And will inspire with passion of love.
Neuropsychiatric Symptoms of Dementia
Activity of ritual five times a day contributes
Lose of memories bring into soul, mind and heart.
Practice of Ritual the Therapy of Biblical
Recitation of Holy Bible Quran help
Those who are righteous believer
In the name of Lord.
Behavioral and or Psychological symptom
Deteriorate Disease of any kind except death!
Wash away spiritually disease heal where it pain
Toward better health in human being life on earth.
Prostrates secretly appreciate your Lord
To forgive you as sinner of all
Your memory, mind and health
Hand of almighty Lord by any method
Not hand of medical teams or doctors.
Remember your life belong to you
Don't give to your doctors to play with
Worship your Lord donate your life to God,
Then you and I free from any known disease.
Search Holy Bible or Quran for the truth,
No matter who ever you are
At the most critical time in life.
"La-He-La-Ha-Hil-Lal-La-Hu" ;
Is medication or treatment for any symptom?
To cure from your known illness
It duty tax free given to you all,
Only those who trust.
My heart arches for my beauty of Dementia
How much I love in word I lost as oceans of Sea waves!
How to recover my Dementia to love me again in life
My dear Lord you are only hope in my life remain for
My lover Dementia to bring memory back to reality.
Far as skies I discovered your name 'Allah'
And inside human being body
Today who should I bet in life?
Other than your name?
I shall never divorce my love Dementia by virtue nor
Will I forget your name 'Allahu' but recites in vain?
Until my Dementia say
'I Love You'
In life again.
As mentioned Holy Bible Quran Sura Kaf
After 109 years
Human memory returned in life how?
Without treatment or medication.
Dementia I love you by any cost?
It a lesson my Lord given us to learn from
Our generation to follow his instruction
In culture, in heritage and in our society.
To void such symptom
In generation in human being life or,
Search for treatment in the universes,
If you are honest and truthful indeed."
poem by Abdul Haye Amin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black Sheep
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'
'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,
'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,
The faith I learned at my mother's knee
Is good enough for me.
Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she,
Hearing one sermon where she heard three,
And I read my paper on Sunday, instead
Of the Bible only. My mother said
I was a black sheep, when she saw
I strayed a trifle away from the law,
And didn't think everyone left in the lurch
Who happened to go to a different church;
But, still, in the main, her creed is mine,
And I don't want anything more divine.'
Yet his mother's mother was more austere;
She taught her children a creed of fear,
And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock,
She saw them straying away from the flock,
Just far enough
To get around places they thought too rough,
Like infant damnation and endless hell.
But his mother's mother's mother would tell
How her mother thought it was God's sweet will
To punish and torture a heretic till
They drove out the devil that made him dare
Think for himself in the matter of prayer
And faith and salvation. So we see how it is
If we look back over the centuries-
The creeds men learned at their mother's knee
When Salem witches were hanged to a tree,
And the pious dames flocked thither to see,
Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day;
And the bold black sheep who went straying away
From rut-worn paths in their search for God,
And leaped over the fence into pastures broad,
Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls,
Leading the race up to higher goals
And a larger religion; where man must find
God dwelling ever within his mind,
Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought,
And hell but the places where love is not.
A mighty religion that makes this earth
But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth
And the life beyond it, that is so near
Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.
'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: a whole world full.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give me wool and tomorrow you will have a sheep.