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My first piece in a couple weeks. Hope you like it.

Shepard's Hollow

Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow
The shepard in the hollow ward was sure to find it so
But when the shepard found the sheep and Mary out of sight
He grasped his staff of yew and headed straight towards the plight
His footsteps muffled by the bushes muddled cries of shocks
Had transformed to the shepard into sounds of praying clocks
His dreary look and rancid face had aged as if a leaf
Which were so now expressing growls of pain and disbelief
And from the wood he marched uphill to
Find the little girlie girl who
Cost him much and bade him dear
And now reclused in bitter fear
He looked and scoured 'cross the meadows
Manipulated by the shadows
And wind in buckets splashed on him
As mindless whips can lash at whim
Today we march and hope we find
A sensibility our kind
To laugh with us
And cry with us
And sing with us
And sigh with us
To scowl at us
And bow at us
To dance
And play
Out loud
With us
To marvel
Soft
And proud
With us
And
Lift
Us
When
We
Are
Down
In
Dust

While slowly down the river we
Have nothing left but you and me
Kind and gentle
Firm and true
I am me

As
You
Are
Too

Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 490 times
Written on 2007-08-28 at 01:44