Get Rid Of The Advertisements

The Shepherd
 
While sheep may safely graze in lush green fields,
when rain falls not, they're often fed by hand,
we keep a watch for oh their rich fleece yields
our main supply of income from this land.
Such silly, bleating creatures, ovine beasts,
they wander off and part from rest of fold
to fill their bellies at a greener feast
upon the pastures of a field of gold.
Over the fence where grass is ever green,
the shepherd goes to find wandering sheep.
They err but yet the shepherd's surely seen
and kept them safe when all the flock's asleep.
He follows up the lost ones of the flock
Wolf swallows not the weaklings in his stock.



By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

Read more poems by  cherryk
Send this poem to a friend
Read 21 viewers comment(s)

This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - Weekly Form: Beymorlin Sonnet (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - Weekly Form: Beymorlin Sonnet (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - Weekly Form: Beymorlin Sonnet (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - Weekly Form: Beymorlin Sonnet (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: FOS - Weekly Form: Beymorlin Sonnet (challenge has been closed)


The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page