#216. or, The Conundrum (a poem)

  Contrary to popular opinion, this blog is still active. It might be on life support, with one foot in the grave, but active nonetheless.

  Anyways, I keep it around because I need to put the thoughts in my head somewhere. At least until they all go into my book and I can retire to my tropical island living off the proceeds as a billionaire playboy philanthropist. OK, fine. Old man philanthropist.

  Currently, I have a lot of shit broken down. It does not matter when you read this, that statement will still apply. 

  Seems inspiration strikes me when I'm armpit deep in something. Be it a cow or a combine. 

  This was from the latter. If you need me, I'll be over here fixing something. 

The Conundrum

 I wonder if a welder might,

when he lifts his stinger from the arc,

find he's overrun by cattle

and a dog that likes to bark?

Or how often does a mechanic

when he turns to grab a wrench,

find himself entangled

in a half a mile of fence?

Or maybe there's a plumber,

while he's snaking out a drain,

might suddenly be in the way

of a combine load of grain.

It must happen all the time,

these things that cause alarm?

Because I always find, I'm in the shop,

when I'm trying to fucking farm!

 ...........my bloggy skills are really rusty. I'm pretty pleased with myself that I put the poem title in bold print right now. 

 

#215. or, Peeing in the Barn (a poem)

   Yesterday we finished getting our cows onto pasture. It's about a week earlier than they usually go out for us but our feed supply was dwindling and the grass was coming in nicely so it made sense. There's still a few cows left to calf but I can count those on two hands so our time spent in the barn is winding down for another season.

  In my lifetime on this farm, which is the entirety of my life, there have been three different barns. The first was an old log barn with a hayloft that was probably way more decrepit than my childhood memories allow me to recall. It was knocked down to make way for yard expansion. The second was an awesome barn but it unfortunately burned to the ground. And now this third barn is somewhat less than what the second one was but something considerably more than what the first was. 

.........they all have one thing in common. 

 Peeing in the Barn

It occurred to me the other day,

while I was peeing in the barn.

That I've pee'd in lots of places,

not just down here on the farm.

I've pee'd on the side of the road,

with the traffic all in view. 

Cause I had to stop and let it go

before my kidneys split in two.

I've pee'd my name into the snow,

although I have no i's or t's.

So for all intents and purposes, 

it was a less than stellar pee.

I've pee'd while down in Mexico

on a urinal mosaic made of tiles.

Watering down someone's handiwork,

far from home so many miles.

Off the top step of a combine

while I harvest in the fall.

With tremendous arc and hangtime,

like a giant 12 feet tall.

On a vacation at a swim-up bar

I did not have a pee.

So the warmness that you might have felt

most certainly was not me.

Coffee makes me pee.

It's aromatic, 

when the bushes I do douse.

A discerning nose might differentiate

Columbian dark roast from Maxwell House.

And while we're on the topic

of things that make my pee odiferous,

I'm not even gonna mention,

when I feast upon asparagus.

I may have pee'd a little bit

while laughing hard with friends.

It seems to happen more these days

I guess that's why they make depends?

So when I'm old and incontinent

and I've told you all my yarns,

I'll likely just let it go,

and imagine I'm peeing in the barn.

#214. or, Backwards Calf (a poem)

  Inspiration seems to be slightly out of my grasp these days. I think it's stress thing. It's been a trying last few years. But I didn't really write this to tell you that. 

  I do not know why, but more often than not, poetic verses seem to blunder into my brain when I'm right in the middle of barn chores. They're just there all of the sudden, like a cow smacking you across the face with a shitty tail. Which I am often surprised and grateful for, but can also be somewhat inconvenient when I drop what I'm doing and run to the giant whiteboard in the warm room to jot these thoughts down before they wisp away, back into the nothingness they came from. 

  Also, there's nothing about being smacked in the face with a shitty tail that I'm grateful for. 

  I'm also fortunate that my wife does not mind those same barn chores taking extra time on inspiration days because I'm not hauling my end of the load. And it kinda feels good when I drag her in asking, "here, can you read this?" just to see if what I wrote makes sense to someone other than me and I can tell she's smiling while I'm watching the back of her head. 

  So, here's an effort. It is what it is......

Backwards Calf

I pulled a calf, was backwards, 

standing in the womb.

I didn't have a lot of confidence, 

mostly doom and gloom.

There were no toes that I could see, 

and I began to wonder.

But I saw the cow's tail swish, and a smaller one,

from a little more down under.

So in I dove, with rolled up sleeves, 

to extricate this mess.

To alleviate this cow, to set at ease, 

her obvious distress. 

We fought a fight, this calf and I,

seems he did not want to leave.

And every time I was almost there,

the cow'd unhelp me with a heave.

Now I've pulled some calves in my day,

I think I've learned a thing or two.

But it crossed my mind, that this here calf,

might be my cattle kobayashi maru.

I was nearly spent, played out and tired,

thinking I had no way to win.

When I slipped a chain, accidentally,

upon his right rear limb.

We worked together, the calf and me,

and that cow locked in the squeeze.

Until two feet were poking out,

first his toes, then ankles, then knees.

From that point on, it did not take long,

to jack that calf out onto the ground.

Till he's laying there, flip flopping slime,

on me and all around.

And that's my job, when it's calving time,

and I guess that now you know.

That once in a while, and on some of those days,

I'm up to my neck in cow.