Poem -
Sheep
Sheep are real. Sheep feel
The real things or taste the dew
On the grass they eat.
Sheep defeat the grey tunnel you spiral though
Of morning.
But sheep can't think.
I am different. Not unique.
a living thing also.
Just not a sheep.
And the dirty Woolen sky like sheep
Would grow old
While you grew cold and meek.
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Comments
Hello Rory...
The Meek shall inherit the Earth...
Meek isn't weak...
Great write!
Thank you for sharing...
sparrowsong
I suppose politically I'm considered something of a socialist, I can't explain it right, but Dad could. He's the one with a degree in political science. I'm left wing anyway, that's all I know. Artist usual are. There's wisdom in humility, it's true. Thanks for liking SS.
Hey Rory, I was drawn to this one. Agreed, originality is something I too try and achieve, but sometimes I feel like I am nowhere near as unique as I want to be. Enjoyed the structure in this one, up my poetic alley so to speak. Looking forward to reading more!Â