Pan

Ovine has evolved into this:

Pan

We saw a sheep, it's proselytizing 

eyes like jeweled eggs

fingering our gaze.

 

Until now.

Now that we recall and forget,

in a simulcast of memory.

 

And for what?

Your soulless weaseling

has alerted this unsteady

tummocking:

 

a tripping from toe to hoof

the cloven trip-trap

of the merely

ovine.

 

You forgot.

But I recall, alone,

what it is to stare

into the abyss

of the barely

human.

it will shortly be sent to the National Poetry Society's competition along with another two I just rattled off.

Endure!

'Ovine' is the best poem ever written

on this computer in the last minute or so.

However, I'm rewriting 'Ovine' as less obviously made up on the spur of the moment, and I'll send it off to some lumpen Poetry mag or comp.

Ovine

We saw a sheep, it's proselytizing 

eyes like jeweled fibres

fingering our gaze.

Until.

Now we recall and forget,

a simulcast of memory.

Your soulless weaseling

has alerted the unsteady

tummocking, of the merely

ovine.

Most poetry is doggerel

Mine is no exception.

Here's my offering. Let's call it: 

Ovine

We saw a sheep, it's proselytizing eyes

like jeweled fibre fingers, meeting

our gaze. 

Until. 

Until now. We recall

and forget. Your weaseling soul

has alerted the unsteady

tummocking 

of the ovine.

That took less time to think up than it took to write.