Cow Eyed

[Macavity]

I love my omnivore.
They beef me up. The more
I birth, the more they knife
and fork. They give me life.

I know my omnivore.
They don't really adore
those baby greens. A fad.
My lad's meat red. How sad.

I lament herbivores,
all those calves of gore.
I chew the cud, and dream,
graze a meadow scene.

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi mac,
like the new title

Might you work on the meter a bit?

I get confused by the singular 'my omnivore' that's followed by the plural 'they beef'
(and who's 'my lad'?)

Some minor butchery


I love my omnivore.
They beef me up. The more
I birth, the more they knife
and fork. They give me life.

I know my omnivore.
it doesn't much adore
those baby greens. A fad.
My lad's meat red. How salad

I mean, how sad. those calves of gore.
I chew the cud, and dream,
I graze a meadow scene.
and mourn each passing herbivore,


Regards, Not

.

[Macavity]

Thanks for the thumbs up on the title Not.

Might you work on the meter a bit?

I was looking to use three stresses per line.

(and who's 'my lad'?)

Her calf.

I'll have a ponder about the plural.

The cow recognises she exists to breed for the 'plate', so elements of detachment and delusion in the mindset, can't mourn. Perhaps, in this insanity, she's got 'mad cow disease'.

cheers

mac

[NotQuiteSure]

.
Hi mac.
Can't mourn but can lament (and love)? OK.
How accurate is this, in terms of meat production? Because 'beef me up' suggests fatten but now I have to wonder (given she's being kept for breeding) if you're using it as a euphemism for impregnate. If she's an Aberdeen Angus, you could then have 'beef me up, Scotty'. Oh dear, long day.

Not out.

.

[Macavity]

[CalebPerry]

I find myself really liking this poem, though I'm not quite getting what you are doing. The language has a lovely lilt to it. Instead of you explaining it to me, I would like to keep reading it until I grasp the technique you are using. It's kind of pathetic that I need so many poems to be explained to me. I need to put more effort into figuring things out for myself. Absolute clarity has become almost a fetish to me.

[Macavity]

Thanks Perry. I had in my head the horror of a mother producing children to be eaten and how she deals with the 'madness' of that by disconnecting. Her emotional disconnection, distancing and delusion, is a madness.

best

mac

[pomespennyeach]

Your title drew me in, but what a surprise when I got to the poem (a good surprise).


I love my omnivore.
They beef me up. The more
I birth, the more they knife
and fork. They give me life. .................."They give me life." seems redundant. "They show me life."?

I know my omnivore.
They don't really adore
those baby greens. A fad.
My lad's meat red. How sad. ..............."My lad's meat red" is almost too much of a mouthful

I lament herbivores,
all those calves of gore. ..................."calves of gore" just makes me think "calves of yore" and doesn't work for me.
I chew the cud, and dream,
graze a meadow scene.

[Macavity]

Thanks pomespenny. Will have a ponder on your thoughts.

cheers

mac