The black one, last as usual, swings her head
And coils a black tongue round a grass tuft. I
Watch her soft weight come down, her split feet spread.
In front the others swing and slouch; they roll
Their great Greek eyes and breathe out milky gusts
From muzzles black and shiny as wet coal.
The collie trots, bored at my heels, then plops
Into the ditch. The sea makes a tired sound
That's always stopping though it never stops.
A haycart squats prickeared against the sky.
Hay breath and milk breath. Far out in the West
The wrecked sun flounders though its colours fly.
The collie's bored. There's nothing to control....
The black cow is two native carriers
Bringing its belly home, slung from a pole.
Norman MacCaig
7 comments:
Hari OM
My that's wonderful imagery, dear ol' Norman. I have a secret crush on Highland Cattle - your wee coo is braw! Hope you had a super week with the tall bloke. YAM xx
Hullo Yamini,
Cheers! This is a bit of a favourite from Mr MacCaig. The last sentence is so visual for me somehow.
We had a great week with Mr R. I quite miss him now he's gone home but don't tell him that.
Hae a guid yin yersel' lassie.
Hey Alistair! I struggle with Mr. MacCaig's rhyming meter, but like Yam, I like the imagery! Thankee! Indigo
Cheers Indigo,
I'll stick a couple of bob in the meter for you. That might do the trick.
It's a coo.
'nuff said.
My Beloved says I'm a philistine, but she's wrong.
I'm much, much worse than that.
I agree - superb imagery. As one with six bulls currently fattening in her top field, I have studied them muchly recently . . . from the opposite side of the fence!
I have not come across MacCaig before but love this poem.
TSB - Boy have I missed that cynicism. {Have to go with the wee wummin on this occasion!}
BB - Plenty of MacCaig here {my favourite poet} Just click the name on the 'Labels' section to get the list.
Cheers to you both.
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