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Tag Archives: sheep

Tipping Sheep (The Right Way)

22 Sunday Oct 2017

Posted by Worldly Winds in Children's poetry, Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alex Carr-Malcolm Tipping Sheep (the right way), Alexandra Carr-Malcolm, Alexandra Carr-Malcolm poet, poetry, sheep, Sheffield poet, Tipping Sheep (the right way), upside down sheep, Worldly Winds poetry

I’ve not shared this one in a while – A poem inspired by my son whilst he was on his Duke of Edinburgh Expedition many years ago!

Copies of the book are still available from me – £5 plus postage. Please email me if you would like a copy.

worldlywinds@mail.com

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With face of delight,

my son runs to me –

I’ve tipped up a sheep,

he shouted with glee.

 

My face drops with horror.

Well how could this be?

Am I the worst mother,

has he learned nothing from me?

 

“Calm down Mother!”

my son reassures.

“It’s not as you think,”

with derision he snorts.

 

“We walked in a field,

(in the group we were five,)

saw a sheep on its back,

with legs waving at sky.

 

It soon came apparent,

from what we could see,

that the sheep was so stuck,

‘twas a strange sight to see.

 

We tried hard to lift her,

but to no avail,

she was fat, wet, and smelly,

the weight of a whale.

 

Then out of the blue,

an idea did occur,

we spread out our groundsheet,

to roll her on there.

 

With one mighty tug,

we pulled the sheet up,

and the sheep it did tip,

(the right way up!)

 

So, off with a wobble,

and a, ‘baa,’ of delight,

the sheep she then trotted –

it was quite a sight!

 

So you see Mum, it’s true,

the things I did say,

we tipped up a sheep.”

(Thankfully – the right way!)

 

 

©Tipping Sheep (the right way) 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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Tipping Sheep (the right way)

06 Friday Jul 2012

Posted by Worldly Winds in Daily life, Humour, Poetry

≈ 37 Comments

Tags

camping, humour, poetry, sheep

 

 

 

 

 

 

With face of delight,

my son runs to me –

“I’ve tipped up a sheep!”

he shouted with glee.

 

My face drops with horror.

Well how could this be?

Am I the worst mother,

has he learned nothing from me?

 

“Calm down Mother!”

my son reassures.

“It’s not as you think,”

with derision he snorts.

 

“We walked in a field,

(in the group we were five,)

saw a sheep on its back,

with legs waving at sky.

 

It soon came apparent,

from what we could see,

that the sheep was so stuck,

‘twas a strange sight to see.

 

We tried hard to lift her,

but to no avail,

she was fat, wet, and smelly,

the weight of a whale.

 

Then out of the blue,

an idea did occur,

we spread out our groundsheet,

to roll her on there.

 

With one mighty tug,

we pulled the sheet up,

and the sheep it did tip,

(the right way up!)

 

So, off with a wobble,

and a, ‘baa,’ of delight,

the sheep she then trotted –

it was quite a sight!

 

So you see Mum, it’s true,

the things I did say,

we tipped up a sheep.”

(Thankfully – the right way!)

 

My Son says, I must point out that this is a true story. Whilst on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition, they encountered a sheep who was stuck on her back.

He told the story exactly as above – I was so relieved to find he had actually saved a sheep by tipping it up the right way, and hadn’t tipped a sheep over the wrong way!

He did give a talk at school about the ‘tipping up a sheep’ encounter, though I did advise him to change the title to ‘Saving a sheep’s life!’ (I was worried the teachers may have had a mild panic attack on seeing the title of his talk!)

 

 

©Tipping Sheep (the right way) 2012

By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

Photo Credit

 © Copyright Nigel Mykura and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

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Love Affair

29 Tuesday May 2012

Posted by Worldly Winds in Deep Stuff!, Loss, Poetry

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

affair, church bell, heather, loss, October, pagan, Peaks, poetry, remorse, Sca Fell, sheep, tears, unrequited

English: Sca Fell massif from north of Wastwater.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mossy skin of stark stone walls,

a breath of clouds in a cold October sky,

the haunting call of the hovering kestrel.

The bleak love affair with the unyielding Peaks.

 

The tangled sheep huddled against the cold North wind,

wool kissed barbs of boundaries breeched,

the wandering yew abandoned on the verge of betrayal.

The dark love affair with the relentless Peaks.

 

Sca Fell, Peaks probe the gloomy skies,

the bursting spring cascades to punish rocks beneath,

purple rinse resilience of old heather hair.

The stark love affair with the unwieldy Peaks.

 

Shadows play hide and seek with rocks and hills.

The mournful cry of an old church bell

calls back the congregation of fallen sheep,

to worship the affair with pagan Peaks.

 

The low slung fog smothers both road and fell,

hushed tones hold the secrets of the hills.

Heaviness hangs as breath is caught,

to hide the love affair of unrequited Peaks.

 

The wind whispers of its long lost love.

The rain cries bitter tears of remorse.

The pitch black blanket of love wraps around

to shroud the love affair of mourning Peaks.

 

© Love Affair 2012

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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