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If Sheep Could Only Talk

If Sheep Could Only Talk

Who knows where the sheep go at night? The gate is always open and they are in groups of five or six, and this is going to sound strange, they appear to be gossiping—talking over the nights’ doing, as it were..
When they see me--they spread out—away from their groups. I wouldn’t be surprised if they began whistling to show that nothing was going on but I know better.
I asked Butch, my next-door neighbor, (if you can call ten acres away next door) if he was having the same problem with his sheep but he laughed and asked if I thought they had night jobs or were going to the truck stop and putting out?
There’s no doubt that Butch will be at the barber shop tomorrow getting a trim and spreading the word of my sheep problem and thoughts. I shouldn’t have said anything.
So I stayed up last night with the house lights off and the exterior lights on and I saw Woolly, our sheep dog, the same off white color as the sheep, amble over to the gate, stand up on his hind paws, an…

Beware of Serpents


Beware of Serpents


 Highly venomous serpents

 Here, there and everywhere in the society

 in broods and broods of huge numbers

 Living in the darkened hidings of the underworld

 The most innocent appearance

 and perfect nature,

 they bring to reflection

 blinding us to the sight of the truth

 The coil made of their abnormally phosphorous body

 measuring a great length

 In the midst, there is the shimmering face

 gleaming with luminous, beady eyes,

 half closed in trance of meditation,

 the meditation of stalking

 An intensely poisonous snare their coil is

 The pray gets drilled by their fangs

 Yet noticeable to none of us

 is the torturing trap in that coil of harmless beauty

 At the face of anger with a shrill sizzle

 they would make a noose of themselves

 around your neck and wring it

 until vomit comes out of your mouth,

 until your eyes lunge into the last sleep

 These phantom serpents

 with their hungry, thirsty stomach

 which never gets satisfied 

 though huge quantities of food

 slip into their cord like body

 Still flickering their forked tongue

 wanting more and more


 Deft tricksters for hoodwinking

 Totally apt to the instant

 as if in a fancy dress parade

 Year by year sloughing their skin

 discarding the old one

 So the identification getting crumpled

 Their incurable sting, if hurts you

 befalls the dreadful birth of another serpent

 Or, otherwise, death will catch you

 May be the serpent is the closest of yours

 You will never perceive the one

 till the havoc tumbles on you,

 having been stung by the very serpent

 So, beware of serpents!      


Indunil Madhusankha


Indunil Madhusankha is currently an undergraduate reading for a BSc Special Degree in Mathematics at the Faculty of Science of the University of Colombo. Even though he is academically involved with the subjects of Mathematics and Statistics, he also pursues a successful career in the field of English language and literature as a budding young researcher, reviewer, poet and content writer. Basically, he explores the miscellaneous complications of the human existence through his poetry by focussing on the burning issues in the contemporary society. Moreover, Indunil’s works have been featured in many international anthologies, magazines and journals.



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