Soapweed
Well-known member
A couple years ago, Mrs. Soapweed and I attended a Pfizer cattle symposium at Reno. A very capable cowboy poet by the name of Leon Flick entertained us after supper that evening. He rides the range in Oregon cattle country, and if he cowboys as well as he writes poetry, he's a pretty darned good hand.
Here is one of his poems called, "Free Verse."
What is this stuff, they call free verse?
It makes no sense to me.
It wanders like a plumb green colt,
And has no rhyme-er-ry.
I has to have a dictionair,
To look up half the words.
Like searchin' for a cowchip,
Once the meadow's dragged for turds.
Like a pen of singles cattle.
That's every shape and size.
There's every breed and color.
Then I starts to realize,
It's still a pen of cattle.
Under hide, there is red beef.
But better them, to make the sorts,
And save me all the grief.
Now here are some photos of our day. Guess you could call the bunch of cattle, and the calves that were pre-conditioned, our bovine version of "free verse". They are all colors, sexes, sizes and shapes. The mommas of these calves are old cows, some have bad bags or other blemishes, and for one reason or another we didn't want to get them too far from home. They are an equal opportunity bunch, but will be sorted into proper categories before we sell them.
Here is one of his poems called, "Free Verse."
What is this stuff, they call free verse?
It makes no sense to me.
It wanders like a plumb green colt,
And has no rhyme-er-ry.
I has to have a dictionair,
To look up half the words.
Like searchin' for a cowchip,
Once the meadow's dragged for turds.
Like a pen of singles cattle.
That's every shape and size.
There's every breed and color.
Then I starts to realize,
It's still a pen of cattle.
Under hide, there is red beef.
But better them, to make the sorts,
And save me all the grief.
Now here are some photos of our day. Guess you could call the bunch of cattle, and the calves that were pre-conditioned, our bovine version of "free verse". They are all colors, sexes, sizes and shapes. The mommas of these calves are old cows, some have bad bags or other blemishes, and for one reason or another we didn't want to get them too far from home. They are an equal opportunity bunch, but will be sorted into proper categories before we sell them.
I guess he managed a big ranch near here before we moved here. I think they are good hands. I got to know them quite some time ago at a poetry gathering in Caldwell Idaho.