Self-Publification Project

The Poem:

The Flyer

Youtube:

The Bull Calf* Glogster

 The Bull Calf         
 by Irving Layton                                                                     "The Bull Calf"
                                                                                    Glogster
                                                                                       Link:
                                                                                                 Glog English11 BC poem
 The thing could barely stand. Yet taken
 from his mother and the barn smells
 he still impressed with his pride,
 with the promise of sovereignity in the way
 his head moved to take us in.
 The fierce sunlight tugging the maize from the ground
 liked at his shapely flanks.
 He was too young for all that pride.
 I thought of the deposed Richard II.

 "No money in bull calves," Freeman had said.
 The visiting clergyman rubbed the nostrils
 now snuffing pathetically at the windless day.
 "A pity," he sighed.
 My gaze slipped off his hat toward the empty sky
 that circled over the black knot of men,
 over us and the calf waiting for the first blow.

 Struck,
 the bull calf drew in his thin forelegs
 as if gathering strength for a mad rush…
 tottered…raised his darkening eyes to us,
 and I saw we were at the far end
 of his frightened look, growing smaller and smaller
 till we were only the ponderous mallet
 that flicked his bleeding ear
 and pushed him over on his side, stiffly,
 like a block of wood.

 Below the hill's crest
 the river snuffled on the improvised beach.
 We dug a deep pit and threw the dead calf into it.
 It made a wet sound, a sepulchral gurgle,
 as the warm sides bulged and flattened.
 Settled, the bull calf lay as if asleep,
 one foreleg over the other,
 bereft of pride and so beautiful now,
 without movement, perfectly still in the cool pit,
 I turned away and wept.

Beatnik Poetry

"A Simple Love"

 When came out of the mother, 

the baby is given the chance of

discovering along with love

around.

The opportunity is offered by the

parents,

though unseen by the child at times.

While time pass on,

the child began to notice the reality.

Parental love is revealed

naturally and yet carelessly,

resembling the artwork,

nearly perfect, but some small mistakes.

Thus, it is still the greatest of all,

in a format of letters after letters,

no space, no air.

Though kids did not care that much, or

more to the details.

Love of parents is a most desired

gift among many others.

It is a treasure indeed.

While time pass on,

teenage years of rebellions,

the motivation of disobedience,

challenged the love.

Once confusing,

the love existed,

the care lived,

more lively.

Say "no" was desired by the child.

Advices were nevertheless there.

Once in a day,

when it started to rain,

very heavily,

Parents appeared together.

"Are you cold? Are you wet?"

"I just see that you did not have the umbrella."

The child took it,

the handle was still warm.

While time pass on,

Away from home,

the child moved far.

Worrying of parents occurred,

"I'm very well here."

"How are you two?"

Said the child.

"Good, as usual."

Replied. Hidden the truth.

While time pass on,

a family of the child was constructed,

he had his own son.

Now, he understands fully,

that

Parental love is immeasurable,

passionate, and simple,

it is a love that is always there,

non-stop, and forever-green.