The Bull Calf (from a workshop excercise)

[Cate]

The Bull Calf

Of no use to anyone he lingers outside

the dairy, watches young
girls lick their ice-cream;
frozen milk, stolen from his bound sisters,
Mother.
His cigarette drops, red tip
still glowing hot.
Soon enough he’ll have horns.



(the exercise was simple to take a random phone number from the yellow pages and match the lines to the number, also use at least 3 words from the add. United Dairy Farmers in Cincinnati - 800 447-1535, 'dairy' 'milk' and 'ice cream' - the title is borrowed from Irving Layton.)

[lizzytysh]

What workshop is it that you're attending, anyway, Cate.
Manna's art exercises and your exercises for producing poems are so creative and fascinating.

If I'm getting it right, your bull calf appears to be in his tough teen, street-kid years.
I love your imagination.

I particularly enjoyed these lines... the first two for their effectiveness in showing the captivity...

"frozen milk, stolen from his bound sisters,
Mother."

and this for your surprize, conclusive ending...

"Soon enough he'll have horns."

[Cate]

What workshop is it that you're attending, anyway, Cate.

I'm not Lizzy. I occasionally post to a poetry forum and they run a weekly/biweekly 'challenge' that I like to participate in - this was from that. I like them because although you may not end up with a 'poem' you often end up with something you'd like to write a poem about. I have attended a couple of day workshops in Toronto with a writer that I'm pretty comfortable with. I'd like to attend others (not run by him) but my shyness gets in the way.

If I'm getting it right, your bull calf appears to be in his tough teen, street-kid years.

Kind of Lizzy -one of my favourite poems is called 'The Bull-Calf' (I.Layton) and in that poem, there is a bull calf who is strong, young, proud and slaughtered cause you only need so many bulls. When I saw I was going to write about a dairy I wanted to write him - unslaughtered.

Thank you Lizzy,
Cate

[lizzytysh]

oh, g~d that last image that comes with irving's poem [not read] makes me wish i hadn't asked... i'm glad for the reprieve you gave him in yours. unfortunately, irving's is probably closer to the truth.

ahhh, okay. i forgot that there are 'workshops'/groups online. you're right on that shyness part. it can really get in the way. glad you've got one facilitator/writer with whom you're comfortable, that gets you out there.

[imaginary friend]

I like your Bull Calf's 'tude, Cate. But this discussion sent me searching for Layton's poem – and now I wish I had stayed with yours.

My Grandmother was a farmer... she cultivated peanuts and kept chickens and cows on a small country farm. When she observed a small boy acting macho (not infrequent in Jamaica), she would laugh and say 'look at that little bull calf!'

[Lazysuit]

I really like that poem. Thank you. I'm not terribly comfortable with just writing 'yeah, great' here, it might come across as insincere and blank but there you go, I don't mean to be so blank I could write about how you've painted the scene, described a boys lonesomeness and folly, brought in a respect for the animal that has her milk taken, her young slaughtered for this post Presley world we're living in...there's a lot to this poem and I could talk about it quite a bit but I don't want to. I just want to say I think it is really good!

ta
x

[Cate]

Yes Lizzy, I think Layton's version is more honest and my hats off to him for being able to witness it and write about it so effectively.

A peanut farmer - that's cool. Your Grandma sounds like she had a bit of 'tude herself I.F.
I grew up across the street from a small dairy farm (very nice people - hind and generous the provided free raw milk to half the community) but of course there is the problem of bull calves. The calves were kept in little white houses that their heads peaked out of. I won't say that they were entirely unhappy, but sometimes they'd cry/call out which would get the Mothers calling out which (as a child) seemed very cruel.

Dear Lazy Suit - as I'm sure you are well aware, this is not a post Presley world. Elvis is alive and well living in a love triangle in Bermuda with James Dean and Marylin.

[lizzytysh]

LOLOL ~ At last, the definitive answer [rather appealing at that] to Elvis's fate and whereabouts.

I didn't have the heart to track down Layton's poem... hearing about it was a bit much. Maybe another time, I'll muster it, but for now... I'm going to let it go and appreciate yours, albeit maybe not as factual aka "honest."