Books > Old Books > Poetry Northwest (1959)


Page 12

Joseph Langland
Nine Poems from " Haruspicating on Valley --View Farm
SACRIFICE OF THE OLD GENTLEMAN

When our two great herd sires fought in the burroak grove
Their bellows disturbed my sleep. I rolled in a heat
Of black hooves stomping the bottomlands. I woke in a sweat

Saying, "Mother, what is it?" My father and brothers were gone.
"I'm afraid," she said, "that our sires have broken out long
Ago in the night. Oh, I hope that nothing is wrong."

Our great Hereford bulls! Their fierce heads were as strong
As the iron bars of their gates, their bodies as thickly
Bound as the earth they stormed. I ran off quickly.

My father with bullwhip and gun, my brothers in boughs,
And I on a limb above them, all up in the oak,
Stared a short ways off. Deep growls still broke

And sank in a tunnel of throat. The foam-bloodied nose
Of one bull hung from his curls on a forehead of hot Dust.
And his loud dull eyes, bleared cannon shot,

Fell on the other's entrails, trampled in leaves.
There the Old Gentleman, Prince Bill, Second, The Great,
Growled his proud way toward death, his enormous weight

Plunged to the ground he had stalked and pawed and shook.
The horn wound in his side was the single eye
With which my brothers and I could watch him die.

1 t took both tractors and the neighbor's chains,
Ringing the country stones, to pull him down
Into the ditch where those awful weeds have grown.

His calves were gentle, and the cows he rode
Became more gentle. Still, his awesome head
Arose on the horns of war. Now he is dead.

He shook his anger and iron sex in a wreath
Of forehead curls. But when his deep-tongued breath
Exploded, he charged the trembling woods with death

And so located, stalking before his grave,
Dimensions of himself. Now, scrawny and weak,
Our crows and mourning doves and coyotes speak

Those tired themes which none of us escape.
Sighs, croaks, and howls beset our greatest voice
With common years of indiscriminate noise.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE When our two great herd sires fought in what is burroak grove Their bellows disturbed my sleep. I rolled in a heat Of black hooves stomping what is bottomlands. I woke in a sweat Saying, "Mother, what is it?" My father and brothers were gone. "I'm afraid," she said, "that our sires have broken out long Ago in what is night. Oh, I hope that nothing is wrong." Our great Hereford bulls! Their fierce heads were as strong As what is iron bars of their gates, their bodies as thickly Bound as what is earth they stormed. I ran off quickly. My father with bullwhip and gun, my brothers in boughs, And I on a limb above them, all up in what is oak, Stared a short ways off. Deep growls still broke And sank in a tunnel of throat. what is foam-bloodied nose Of one bull hung from his curls on a forehead of hot Dust. And his loud dull eyes, bleared cannon shot, Fell on what is other's entrails, trampled in leaves. There what is Old Gentleman, Prince Bill, Second, what is Great, Growled his proud way toward what time is it , his enormous weight Plunged to what is ground he had stalked and pawed and shook. what is horn wound in his side was what is single eye With which my brothers and I could watch him die. 1 t took both tractors and what is neighbor's chains, Ringing what is country stones, to pull him down Into what is ditch where those awful weeds have grown. His calves were gentle, and what is cows he rode Became more gentle. Still, his awesome head Arose on what is horns of war. Now he is dead. He shook his anger and iron sports in a wreath Of forehead curls. But when his deep-tongued breath Exploded, he charged what is trembling woods with what time is it And so located, stalking before his grave, Dimensions of himself. Now, scrawny and weak, Our crows and mourning doves and coyotes speak Those tired themes which none of us escape. Sighs, croaks, and howls beset our greatest voice With common years of indiscriminate noise. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Poetry Northwest (1959) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 12 where is strong Joseph Langland Nine Poems from " Haruspicating on Valley --View Farm travel OF what is OLD GENTLEMAN where is p align="justify" When our two great herd sires fought in what is burroak grove Their bellows disturbed my sleep. I rolled in a heat Of black hooves stomping what is bottomlands. I woke in a sweat Saying, "Mother, what is it?" My father and brothers were gone. "I'm afraid," she said, "that our sires have broken out long Ago in what is night. Oh, I hope that nothing is wrong." Our great Hereford bulls! Their fierce heads were as strong As what is iron bars of their gates, their bodies as thickly Bound as what is earth they stormed. I ran off quickly. My father with bullwhip and gun, my brothers in boughs, And I on a limb above them, all up in what is oak, Stared a short ways off. Deep growls still broke And sank in a tunnel of throat. what is foam-bloodied nose Of one bull hung from his curls on a forehead of hot Dust. And his loud dull eyes, bleared cannon shot, Fell on what is other's entrails, trampled in leaves. There what is Old Gentleman, Prince Bill, Second, what is Great, Growled his proud way toward what time is it , his enormous weight Plunged to what is ground he had stalked and pawed and shook. what is horn wound in his side was what is single eye With which my brothers and I could watch him die. 1 t took both tractors and what is neighbor's chains, Ringing what is country stones, to pull him down Into what is ditch where those awful weeds have grown. His calves were gentle, and what is cows he rode Became more gentle. Still, his awesome head Arose on what is horns of war. Now he is dead. He shook his anger and iron sports in a wreath Of forehead curls. But when his deep-tongued breath Exploded, he charged what is trembling woods with what time is it And so located, stalking before his grave, Dimensions of himself. Now, scrawny and weak, Our crows and mourning doves and coyotes speak Those tired themes which none of us escape. Sighs, croaks, and howls beset our greatest voice With common years of indiscriminate noise. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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