Indebted to my Horse

 

Almost out of supplements

My horse needs special shoes

I’ve got to pay my vet bill

I need to pay my dues

 

We need to get more training

I have to buy good feed

I’d better get insurance

But a saddle’s what I need

 

I must pay my show fees

I need to buy new tack

My horse needs a Chiropractor

To supple up his back

 

I try hard to save my money

But it’s impossible of course

To avoid the use of credit cards

When you own a horse

 

 L. Blanton.  Sacramento

ODE TO A ROAD APPLE
    by Thea Gavin

Here, without using chemicals,
I play the hand that nature deals-
my garden's where an earthworm feels secure.
Sky high corn, and these tomatoes
dwarf their tough-skinned tasteless kin, those
pathetic mutants at the grocery store.

If I shared my little secret
it might spoil your will to eat, yet
also give you food for thought if you're unsure.
I use fertilizer so fine
from the south end of my equine
friends in-stalled outside the city: horse manure.

Gardener's gold, I load and pile it
mix it, turn it, wait and while it
cooks I test it every smelly couple days:
plunge my hand into the steaming
reeking middle, what's it needing...
air? or water? "One more week," the odor says.

Manure compost on the side as
a snug blanket, makes like midas:
everything it touches turns to veggie gold.
Green bean vines devour their trellis,
rabid zucchini overwhelm us -
that stuff seems to make them giddy and quite bold.

So try this healthy spinach sample
courtesy of horses' ample
capacity for pelletizing hay.
And if it messes up your thinking
to be eating what was stinking
manure, think how you might recycle too some day.


                            Thea Gavin  11/27/00 GavinFam@aol.com

MANURE

 
by Mark Seeley ©1995

I hope there's manure in Heaven I know that sounds a bit strange But some floks might agree with me If I'm given the chance to explain

Now by outward appearance, manure Is a smelly goo, no doubt. But think about what went into that cow Before that manure came out

That cow might have grazed in a pasture Filled with clover and grass green and lush And that sweet smelling pasture on which that cow dined Was transformed to this foul smelling mush.

Or maybe she dined with a range herd On a wide open prairie somewhere Making meals of scattered bunchgrass And leaving a pile here and there.

that cow might have grazed in the mountains Beneath pine trees that whisper and sigh And the grass and wildflowers from meadows Are contained in that cow's special pie.

So I hope there's manure in Heaven Cause that means there'll be cows when we die And pastures and prairies and meadows Beneath mountains that reach toward the sky.


Contact Mark Seeley at: Box 154 Chester, Idaho 83421 (208) 624-7704

I NEVER DID LIKE HIM FOR HIS BRAINS
	        by Hilma (Volcano) Volk

It was our High School reunion -
My gawd the years fly quick -
An old memory walked through the door,
And he was lookin' kinda sick.

I'd studied the old yearbook
Memorizing each forgotten name.
Could it be? Nawh! It must be him.
There he was, my teenage flame.

Oh, he was a handsome devil then,
Cocky, bold and strong
A junior rodeo champion,
Oh my gawd we got along.

But I went on to college,
Missed him less and less each day.
While he took the rodeo circuit -
Rode rough stock in the P.R.C.A.

Now twenty years later there he stood
Lookin' twice as old as most
A bent up man in a bent up body T
hat could be giving up the ghost.

He told me I was lookin' good,
As he flashed a toothless grin.
And I wished I could say the same.
I blurted, "You stayed thin."

His left eye was kinda droopy,
And the right one wore a patch.
His nose faced northeast when he faced north,
And his ears no longer matched.

One elbow didn't bend quite right,
And that shoulder rather sagged.
When I asked him how he'd been I couldn't tell
if he bellyached or bragged.

He said, "Every rib's been busted,
An' my skull's been fractured twice.
Let's sit down while we talk,
I'm s'posed to keep this knee on ice.

"I split my spleen in Abilene,
Broke my elbow up in Pasco,
My collar bone in San Antone
Crushed each toe in old El Paso.

"I broke my jaw in Wichita,
Lost six more teeth in Tacoma T
hen in Medford, man I was gored
And spent three months in a coma.

"I don't let 'em know I'm hurtin' so
(A cowboy ain't supposed to complain)
But my muscles cramp when the weather's damp
Or when someone even mentions rain.

He said, "Heck," as he cracked his neck,
"You know, I'm still decidin',
But it may be true, in a year or two,
I just might give up bull ridin'." ---

THE APPALOOSA MARE
by Hilma (Volcano) Volk

They pulled up in a station wagon
Lookin' for a horse to buy.
I didn't have many left -
Sold most to some camp guy.

But there were four behind the barn
They'd look at if they could.
"What about that appaloosa?"
I replied, "She don't look too good."

He said, "I used to own some horses
And I've got a pretty good eye
For judging conformation;
Her withers are slightly high."

She said, "Yes, but the bones are fine
And the forehead's nice and wide.
The shoulders are sloped just right;
And what a remarkably colored hide."

I drawled, "Yup, them spots are showy.
But no, I don't think you should
Take that mare on home with you
'Cause she don't look too good."

They eyeballed her up and down,
Felt for flaws that might be hidden,
An' jest a lovin' that flashy coat
An' asked if she'd ever been ridden.

"Most likely has, but this mare's
More for makin' colts in a brood.
You don't want her for ridin'
'Cause she don't look too good."

With that I hopped upon her back
To prove she wouldn't buck.
They smiled at each other
An' I knew I was in luck.

I said, "She's priced eight hundred, firm."
They had the cash on hand.
They asked, "Can you deliver?"
"I'll go load her in the van."

Next day he came back snortin' fire,
"You lying, horse tradin' hood.
You cheat, that appaloosa's blind."
"I told ya...she don't look too good."

From the book, MANURE HAPPENS.