The Timid Shepherd Poem by Simpa Omoluabi

While the fields are blessed by the dew
and the stars rosary the firmament
a Shepherd against the curfew
attend an intimate moment.

In the morning, full with sunlight,
in dilemma he finds his heart inexpressible
over if it deems impermissible poetry
for a Shepherd to recite to his Muse:

On the way to yon plains
could I bring of the sheepfold
my fleecy lambs,
that you permit them via your aspects
to tread innocently on your charms?
For spells are harmless before innocence…

Stealthing from the appointment,
tonight the watchmen sought him out
and he cries monotonously:

I have seen the Muse play the lyre
I come from watching a Grace picking olives
and all you see is the enchanted...

They find him an inexplicable condition of being;

the Shepherd would not say more
for the source is illicit, and he would die
keeping it inviolate.

Copyright © 2011 The Timid Shepherd by Simpa Omoluabi