sheep

Callum Featherstone

Once, by the Mountainside

In Tibet, where a lonesome shepherd
held aloft his pointed staff of hope.

* Once, by the mountainside.

And, wished for a family
upon Heaven’s pedigree

unto — a flock of stars.

Once, with regret, within the jebel was a leopard
that from tangled tusks on antelope
was paint expansively
with dusky, camouflaging scars.

A wooden cudgel,
rod, shillelagh
carved with a galaxy’s belief.

Can prove enough
protection ably
to break a mountain leopard’s teeth.

Once, by the mountainside.

For, while the herdsman’s
back was turned
through the bushes
crop did creep.

That mountain leopard’s
hunger spurred
on by rustling
starry sights of sheep.

As the cosh, it clubbed and clanged
a panther’s chime, soon mute
rang out with spirit’s rise.

Once, by the mountainside.

A proud and deadly beast, defanged
round a neck, was loot
for havoc’s hollow prize.

Now, protected sheep, they graze.
Their herd it crowds and multiplies.
Like shadow-puppet-strings
cast o’er scornful campfires burn
tell of his legend — solitary.

Whence a brood’s lives were stole
belonging to the pard.

Where twin infant panthers gazed
with empty mouths and eyes.
Reflects a Shepherd’s wish
as it is mournfully returned:

** ” རི་འདབས་ལ་གྱེས། ” ;

heard, wistful Heaven’s pedigree.

Embarked this leopard family
dwindled but for their souls.
Once, unto — a flock of stars.

© poormansdreams

* Snow/mountain leopard:
Panthera uncia (previously: Uncia uncia)
The genus name, Uncia, is derived from the Old French word :- once, which was originally used for the European lynx.

** Modern Lhasa Tibetan translation:
“Goodbye to the mountainside.”
རི་འདབས་ལ་གྱེས།
ri ’dabs la gyes
IPA: [ɾì tɛ̀p̚ la cʰé]

Callum Featherstone

puppet mastery 101

the puppeteer; has scaly, reptilious skin,
a charming, colourful, cataclysmic chameleon,
with eyes of, devouring, gluttonous jealousy,
like glowing, bite-sized, emeralds,
the puppet-strings, that are pulled,
are made of, flaccid human backbones,
spineless, and, apathetic, docile, and, weak,
always easy, to bend, shape, and manipulate,

the puppets; are twisted, in a daily spin,
forever unfurling, and, falling from favour; like disgraced comedians,
or, top-storey, tumbling clerics, guilty of heresy,
their shelf-lives, are; fugitive; ephemeral,
the pre-packaged, chicken-y cattle, are; disjointed, culled,
mooing, clucking; moo-ucking; those unrelaxed tones,
soundbites of; tinned laughter, canned speech,
eager to unoffend, a sterile escapade, veiled by a fake-crusader’s cape,

the audience; never looks up, from their, feeding troughs,
staring, ravenous eyes, and, mawing, myopic mouths,
transfixed on; oven-ready propaganda,
an amuse-bouche, of; punch, and, judy politics,
succulent headlines, curried scapegoats,
a diet of; regurgitated news cycles,
each garden-variety brain, is, washed, boiled, and, mashed,
then, cannibalised, and, ingested, by the, frenzied, factory-fed,

the puppeteer’s; plotlines are misleading oft,
making polar norths, into, cancerous tropic souths,
teaching true-falsehoods, that reveal, and, cover, the lingua franca,
with, tongued wands, that cast, polyglottal tricks,
selling ice, to; Inuits, and, Amazigh; Saharan raincoats,
making a play, of religion, and, a cat’s paw; the idol,
the final act is here, box office takings, are; sealed, and, stashed,
as, the audience; counts sheep, daydreaming, of lying in fantasy’s bed,

but, ostensibly…

the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the show is, almost, finished,

and,
inevitably, before, the final curtain,
you beg for…

La Fin.

Callum Featherstone

The lamb and the fox

All the sheep have been pacified;
penned in, pinned down, passed out,
as their coats are roughly shorn.
The wool is pulled over; passive eyes,
skewing views, from amassing doubt,
preventing a herd from being warned.

The foxes’ cunning; salivates,
at the very thought of consuming;
a lamb, without a wary flock.
A sly, auld plan, to isolate,
with shorn coat, ‘put on’; for grooming,
makes a veiled ovine, of the fox.

Though the lamb, naively trusts,
this shape-shifting, deceptive, con,
there’s an unsettled feeling within,
an inkling, a notion, that revolts, disgusts,
whenever this Reynard, speaks upon,
their analogy, and, how they’re akin.

The fox, lured the lamb, into the woods,
the Merino, extended fox’s journey,
ridiculing Reynard’s valor; lost,
across the road the yearling trudged,
being followed; by crushing mercy,
as, crimson lorry wheel, and, sheepish precocity,
had alas, finally, outfoxed the fox.