cutlets are real tasty, especially when they have a herby, parmesan crumb on the outside and are roasted in the oven. Eat in moderation!
Lucy
Lamb’s are beautiful. The personification of innocence, epitome of all things clean and pure. Sacrificial by birth, it is there chosen path.
Jay T. John
a baby sheep covered in fluff, jumpers made of this fluff are nice and waarm and cosy and they are cute and lambs taste good too but obvs not alive thats gross ew….. lambs are cute and cuddly and i have a toy lamb called fleecie.
tara
The baby lamb stood to its feet, wobbling just a little bit. Everyone in the barn cheered; it was the first successful birth of the year, and we were all proud of the hard work. The mother lay on its side, breathing heavily, but watching the lamb with a careful expression.
Like a hopeless lamb, she stood, shaking in front of her peers. She didn’t ask for this, she didn’t want to be smarter, quieter, or uglier than most girls. Never in her childhood did she dream to be the nobody that everyone picked on. Yet there she stood, knees crumbling beneath her as the wolves circled their prey. She was nothing more than lamb chops to them, and they were her worst nightmare.
March is coming in like a lamb and a lion around here. We have had snow every day that instantly turns to slush. Somehow will March end? The whole month is screwed up anyway so why not call a spade a spade and skip right straight to May. That way we wouldn’t have to worry about major winter storms and get ready for the spring monsoon.
Soft fuzzy wooly lamb. Gets too hot so the farmers shave him for the winter. Makes warm mittens and socks for us consumers. Lamb gets cold. Grows more wool. Over and over for years. Then he gets slaughtered.
max
I saw a little lamb across the road and gazed at the simplicity of what it would be like to be a lamb. without cares or worries of what the next day brings.
Bianca Ortega
She imagined the soft tickle of its hair against her cheek and the smell of cotton candy. She approached and it clopped away. Teacher told them to be extra gentle and to stay together. But she only wanted to give it a hug. Maybe a little kiss. And so she followed.
Mary had a little lamb who she loved very very dearly. Although her family was on the brink of starvation, she would not kill or cook the precious lamb for she loved it as her own. It was her only friend in hard times. No one else felt her sorrow with her, felt her joy with her, laugh and cried with her the way the poor little lamb did. He was a companion unlike any other. Mary would go through hell and back to keep him safe from butchers and farmers.
Nicole
The little, tender lamb was happily trudgind through the field.
Maybe lambs can’t smile, maybe they can’t feel emotions, maybe they can’t think.
But, well, this particular lamb was simply different. No one had ever told him he couldn’t smile, think or be happy, or that he wasn’t supposed to, so he just did.
It was a lamb’s smile. But such a happy one!
“Baaa,” says the lamb. The lamb says “baaa.” But when it tries to speak it cannot form the words because it is not human.
J. M. Laur
Hush now, my little lamb
Don’t cry anymore
You see, I’m almost done
It’s time to be quiet now
And stop that screaming
Because you’re almost complete
My darling, I’m finished
And you’ve begun to grow cold
But I’ll love you like this
As I did when you weren’t mine
Your blushing cheeks have lost their tint
The rose colour replaced porcelain
As the blood left your face and slipped
Oh, so gracefully
Onto my floor.
My angel, you’ve stopped breathing
With those last few breaths you took
You became even more beautiful
Now I can’t imagine my life without you
And, now, I won’t have to.
I love you so, my little lamb.
In like a lion, out like a lamb. That’s how this crazy month of March is supposed to go.
The funny thing about that is that here in Buffalo, that’s pretty much guaranteed to not happen at all whatsoever. In like a polar bear, out like a polar bear. The lamb probably won’t get here until I’m about to leave. Maybe I’m the proverbial lion being ushered out of its wintery prison.
There went the little lamb. There it went in the woods. But the woods were dark and scary why did not the little lamb see that? There went the little lamb. There it went in the beast’s mouth.
“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.” -Twilight. That’s such a great love story, because it is honestly so true. A sensitive, kind, calm little girl always falls in love with a reckless, crazy boy. The truth comes out in that sentence.
The food on the table is some sort of gourmet fake lamb shit. Sheila likes to think she’s a vegan but she doesn’t even like vegetables. Fake like her boobs and her smiles. Fakemother.
The helpless lamb collapsed against the cold rock as the predator stalked towards him. With Cold precision and dark intent in it’s eyes it came upon him, fangs bared and dripping saliva.
sheep that squeak in the valleys of thunder
lambs praying for something more,
something better
shepherds caving in
this valley is strong no more
shepherds echo in that valley
of sheep squeaks,
and lamb prayers
thunder
something better
Alison
The tears run out in a sloppy mess, but I let them go, hanging halfway off my bed. Alone in the darkness, I feel no embarrassment. I’m a little ashamed though–at the weak moments that come along out of nowhere and steal an entire night from my grasp. I wait for the end, for the sleeplessness to become too much for such a human body.
The lamb was ready for the altar, but not in the way one would expect. Blood did not stream in ribbons from its flank, nor did bubbling cartilage spark like confetti at the sound of a knife. No, this little guy was draped in the finest purple robe the temple had to offer, with a little fitted crown atop his fuzzy head.
The High Minister was most pleased. He smiled and bowed to the critter.
Belinda Roddie
Led like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. Though who was leading who was up for debate. Their relationship was one of mutual destruction, each leading the other down an ever spiraling descent into madness or depravity.
you don’t know innocence, you don’t know being stripped of it, and you don’t know the pain it causes being bare and naked, bleeding from your flesh for you lost your skin to some violent person who entitled themselves to wearing your hide instead of you, hunting you like prey. and yet you preach for those who were stripped, yet you try to save them from the redemption you will face.
A soft, fluffy little animal skipped lazily down the dell to where the farmer kept his shears. He looked up and down the path before going towards the sounds of motion and lights in the skies. The townsfolk were throwing a festival.
Kailee
is meat, we eat this chewy brown thing. it eats grass and grazes in the fields were farmers kill them. why? because its apart of nature and id we don’t something else will, so why stop.
sroop bains
Mary Had a Little Lamb his fleece was white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went the Lamb was sure to go. It followed her to school one day and I can’t remember how the rest of this little nursery rhyme went.
Easter: time of new life, innocence, the world reborn in hope. Driving up to the Lakes each year, care and another year’s pent-up resentments would be shed like blossom at the sight of lambs bounding, springy-legged with joy, across the fields. We would walk up mountains, equipped with waterproofs but lagging behind spry white-haired veterens. It would take all day. At dusk we would make it back, wholesomely tired, and make use our last energy to run in case we missed last food order at the pub. And we’d eat. Lamb shank.
Sarah
The little boy had no name. His father was a retired shepard so he spent much of his time alone. he lived in snowy mountains, only ever dreaming. His dream was to escape. To become a lion.
I can only think of the Lamb of God, the One Who came to save me from myself. What did I do to deserve murdering such an innocent and beautiful creature? We are supposed to hate sheep and lambs, for being such herd animals, but is the enlightened egoism and individualism of society that much better?
Hawk a lamb by falling at it from the sky there. go on, you’ll not be getting a chance like this another again this soon is all so now to take this would well you should please for its moving away and we hunger for the taste of seeing you attempt. no badness if it be a failure but a succeeding, well, to be viewing of a one of that then we would be most grateful both of us eyes to which the vision of it would be clear if you were to act now on it, the direction that i had gave at your self there. no shame in not falling right but in not falling at all there be plenty, oh plentiful yes right there in the thought of it each time i would be hit and towards you a look from both of us would not be given for many times, we’d be judging you with the glares of us
precious little lamb, the one i’ve waited for so long. looking at you in the crib envokes emotions i didn’t even know i had. wish i could say this and it be real.
lamb of god, savior of all. once again, beyond understanding.
We had lamb for dinner last night. I knew something was either terribly wrong or terribly right, for we never had lamb unless the circumstances were extreme. Turns out the first one was right. My parents sat us down at the table and told us they were getting a divorce. I cried, and so did my little brother. From now, lamb will be associated with the taste of tears, the feeling of rocks dropping through my stomach, and the bitter taste of betrayal.
The rack of lamb was roasted rare – the way I like it. I picked a cutlet up and held it in front of my nose. I smelt the blood as it dripped onto the tablecloth. The saliva in my mouth built up. I gulped. What harm could there be? I put it back down again.
cutlets are real tasty, especially when they have a herby, parmesan crumb on the outside and are roasted in the oven. Eat in moderation!
Lamb’s are beautiful. The personification of innocence, epitome of all things clean and pure. Sacrificial by birth, it is there chosen path.
a baby sheep covered in fluff, jumpers made of this fluff are nice and waarm and cosy and they are cute and lambs taste good too but obvs not alive thats gross ew….. lambs are cute and cuddly and i have a toy lamb called fleecie.
The baby lamb stood to its feet, wobbling just a little bit. Everyone in the barn cheered; it was the first successful birth of the year, and we were all proud of the hard work. The mother lay on its side, breathing heavily, but watching the lamb with a careful expression.
Like a hopeless lamb, she stood, shaking in front of her peers. She didn’t ask for this, she didn’t want to be smarter, quieter, or uglier than most girls. Never in her childhood did she dream to be the nobody that everyone picked on. Yet there she stood, knees crumbling beneath her as the wolves circled their prey. She was nothing more than lamb chops to them, and they were her worst nightmare.
There was a lamb in the opening to where I could see a gash in its side…..
March is coming in like a lamb and a lion around here. We have had snow every day that instantly turns to slush. Somehow will March end? The whole month is screwed up anyway so why not call a spade a spade and skip right straight to May. That way we wouldn’t have to worry about major winter storms and get ready for the spring monsoon.
Soft fuzzy wooly lamb. Gets too hot so the farmers shave him for the winter. Makes warm mittens and socks for us consumers. Lamb gets cold. Grows more wool. Over and over for years. Then he gets slaughtered.
I saw a little lamb across the road and gazed at the simplicity of what it would be like to be a lamb. without cares or worries of what the next day brings.
She imagined the soft tickle of its hair against her cheek and the smell of cotton candy. She approached and it clopped away. Teacher told them to be extra gentle and to stay together. But she only wanted to give it a hug. Maybe a little kiss. And so she followed.
Mary had a little lamb who she loved very very dearly. Although her family was on the brink of starvation, she would not kill or cook the precious lamb for she loved it as her own. It was her only friend in hard times. No one else felt her sorrow with her, felt her joy with her, laugh and cried with her the way the poor little lamb did. He was a companion unlike any other. Mary would go through hell and back to keep him safe from butchers and farmers.
The little, tender lamb was happily trudgind through the field.
Maybe lambs can’t smile, maybe they can’t feel emotions, maybe they can’t think.
But, well, this particular lamb was simply different. No one had ever told him he couldn’t smile, think or be happy, or that he wasn’t supposed to, so he just did.
It was a lamb’s smile. But such a happy one!
“Baaa,” says the lamb. The lamb says “baaa.” But when it tries to speak it cannot form the words because it is not human.
Hush now, my little lamb
Don’t cry anymore
You see, I’m almost done
It’s time to be quiet now
And stop that screaming
Because you’re almost complete
My darling, I’m finished
And you’ve begun to grow cold
But I’ll love you like this
As I did when you weren’t mine
Your blushing cheeks have lost their tint
The rose colour replaced porcelain
As the blood left your face and slipped
Oh, so gracefully
Onto my floor.
My angel, you’ve stopped breathing
With those last few breaths you took
You became even more beautiful
Now I can’t imagine my life without you
And, now, I won’t have to.
I love you so, my little lamb.
In like a lion, out like a lamb. That’s how this crazy month of March is supposed to go.
The funny thing about that is that here in Buffalo, that’s pretty much guaranteed to not happen at all whatsoever. In like a polar bear, out like a polar bear. The lamb probably won’t get here until I’m about to leave. Maybe I’m the proverbial lion being ushered out of its wintery prison.
There went the little lamb. There it went in the woods. But the woods were dark and scary why did not the little lamb see that? There went the little lamb. There it went in the beast’s mouth.
“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.” -Twilight. That’s such a great love story, because it is honestly so true. A sensitive, kind, calm little girl always falls in love with a reckless, crazy boy. The truth comes out in that sentence.
The snow is white as fleece, drifting through the air
the ground hard as bones beneath its blanket
and I wait for March to go out like a lion.
The food on the table is some sort of gourmet fake lamb shit. Sheila likes to think she’s a vegan but she doesn’t even like vegetables. Fake like her boobs and her smiles. Fakemother.
The helpless lamb collapsed against the cold rock as the predator stalked towards him. With Cold precision and dark intent in it’s eyes it came upon him, fangs bared and dripping saliva.
Silence of the lambs. I never watched it before, but I hear it’s good?
So sweet and cute as it lay in the grassy field, I want to cuddle it and then cry into it’s soft fur. I already love it.
Jesus is the lamb. the one way. the path to Heaven. always with us. undefiled snow white, the way to follow. to follow to follow.
And there are wolves to watch against and briars to pick out of.
sheep that squeak in the valleys of thunder
lambs praying for something more,
something better
shepherds caving in
this valley is strong no more
shepherds echo in that valley
of sheep squeaks,
and lamb prayers
thunder
something better
The tears run out in a sloppy mess, but I let them go, hanging halfway off my bed. Alone in the darkness, I feel no embarrassment. I’m a little ashamed though–at the weak moments that come along out of nowhere and steal an entire night from my grasp. I wait for the end, for the sleeplessness to become too much for such a human body.
The lamb was ready for the altar, but not in the way one would expect. Blood did not stream in ribbons from its flank, nor did bubbling cartilage spark like confetti at the sound of a knife. No, this little guy was draped in the finest purple robe the temple had to offer, with a little fitted crown atop his fuzzy head.
The High Minister was most pleased. He smiled and bowed to the critter.
Led like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. Though who was leading who was up for debate. Their relationship was one of mutual destruction, each leading the other down an ever spiraling descent into madness or depravity.
you don’t know innocence, you don’t know being stripped of it, and you don’t know the pain it causes being bare and naked, bleeding from your flesh for you lost your skin to some violent person who entitled themselves to wearing your hide instead of you, hunting you like prey. and yet you preach for those who were stripped, yet you try to save them from the redemption you will face.
The lamb tasted delioucious that easter. He will always rember the smell of that glorious day.
A soft, fluffy little animal skipped lazily down the dell to where the farmer kept his shears. He looked up and down the path before going towards the sounds of motion and lights in the skies. The townsfolk were throwing a festival.
is meat, we eat this chewy brown thing. it eats grass and grazes in the fields were farmers kill them. why? because its apart of nature and id we don’t something else will, so why stop.
Mary Had a Little Lamb his fleece was white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went the Lamb was sure to go. It followed her to school one day and I can’t remember how the rest of this little nursery rhyme went.
my fleecy lamb under my softened fingers ,
heavens melting with every little bleat of her voice
a spring under her lilting hooves with joy
Easter: time of new life, innocence, the world reborn in hope. Driving up to the Lakes each year, care and another year’s pent-up resentments would be shed like blossom at the sight of lambs bounding, springy-legged with joy, across the fields. We would walk up mountains, equipped with waterproofs but lagging behind spry white-haired veterens. It would take all day. At dusk we would make it back, wholesomely tired, and make use our last energy to run in case we missed last food order at the pub. And we’d eat. Lamb shank.
The little boy had no name. His father was a retired shepard so he spent much of his time alone. he lived in snowy mountains, only ever dreaming. His dream was to escape. To become a lion.
I can only think of the Lamb of God, the One Who came to save me from myself. What did I do to deserve murdering such an innocent and beautiful creature? We are supposed to hate sheep and lambs, for being such herd animals, but is the enlightened egoism and individualism of society that much better?
Hawk a lamb by falling at it from the sky there. go on, you’ll not be getting a chance like this another again this soon is all so now to take this would well you should please for its moving away and we hunger for the taste of seeing you attempt. no badness if it be a failure but a succeeding, well, to be viewing of a one of that then we would be most grateful both of us eyes to which the vision of it would be clear if you were to act now on it, the direction that i had gave at your self there. no shame in not falling right but in not falling at all there be plenty, oh plentiful yes right there in the thought of it each time i would be hit and towards you a look from both of us would not be given for many times, we’d be judging you with the glares of us
precious little lamb, the one i’ve waited for so long. looking at you in the crib envokes emotions i didn’t even know i had. wish i could say this and it be real.
lamb of god, savior of all. once again, beyond understanding.
We had lamb for dinner last night. I knew something was either terribly wrong or terribly right, for we never had lamb unless the circumstances were extreme. Turns out the first one was right. My parents sat us down at the table and told us they were getting a divorce. I cried, and so did my little brother. From now, lamb will be associated with the taste of tears, the feeling of rocks dropping through my stomach, and the bitter taste of betrayal.
The rack of lamb was roasted rare – the way I like it. I picked a cutlet up and held it in front of my nose. I smelt the blood as it dripped onto the tablecloth. The saliva in my mouth built up. I gulped. What harm could there be? I put it back down again.
I couldn’t do it.