Prairie Ramblings

Gather ‘Round the “ Lil Sprouts! ” Time For Veggie Poetry

By Tracy Sayler
Prairie Grains Editor
tsayler@prairieagcomm.com

Pour yourself a latte, get comfy with your blanky and gather round all the lil’ sprouts, cuz it’s time for veggie poetry.

I don’t know how I stumbled upon www.vegweb.com , self-described as “an Internet vegetarian community.”  But when I saw their postings of “veggie poetry,” well, they’re just begging to be ridiculed.

I envision veggie poetry written by people who hold candlelight vigils at livestock auction barns (don’t laugh, I can see it happening) are English Literature majors in California and the East Coast, and are all gay (Now don’t inundate me with calls and letters of protest, fer cryin’ out loud, that was a joke—I fully realize that not all vegans are English Lit majors).

At any rate, following are snippets of herbivorous enlightenment from Veggie Tales, er, I mean “Veggie Poetry.”  We begin with the delightful haiku by Joy, entitled, “Smiling Cows”:  “Watch smiling cows eat, Sit with tofu on the grass, Eating cows smile back.” (Smiling cows? Um, Joy, I don’t think you’re sitting on grass, I think you’re smoking it.)

Here’s a few lines from Tom’s “November Winds:” “November winds blow across the land, Men in orange, guns in hand. Death begins as the sun arises. Deer strapped to hoods are their prizes… At the end of the month they will leave the land.  Drive back to the city in their caravans. And I will look out on empty fields of snow. And dread the time when November winds blow.” (Yes, Tommy boy, it’s much better to let deer overpopulate and suffer a slow death from disease, malnutrition from overburdened/insufficient habitat, and roadway maimings.)

The finale of untitled prose from Melissa: “With so many foods for us to eat, There is no reason for us to eat meat. The animals who deserve a life of peace will be grateful and thankful to you, as you enjoy a bowl of rice and tofu.” (Tofu—why does this tasteless gelatinous substance seem to be veg heads’ answer to all things meat? Sorry Missy, rice and a glob of tofu just doesn’t go as well with beer at a ballgame as a hotdog.)

Here’s the first few lines of “Make It Rare,” by John: “Red meat, so sweet to eat? Environmental damage at our feet. So much crude oil, oats and wheat, to make a pound of sweet red meat.” (Actually, John, we get a lot of red meat from livestock that feed on pasture unfit for growing crops, as well as roughage and a lot of grain not fit for human consumption. This is then converted into “red meat so sweet to eat” that is rich in nutrients not found in other food sources—pretty darned efficient, if you ask me!)

From a poem by Nomi: “I may not be the prettiest, or most lavish of cows.
But I beg you, please put me into this year’s vows. I may not be the friendliest of the bovine, But I beg you, please do not take the life that is mine.  I speak Mooish instead of English, but isn’t that okay? You can reach for a veggie burger any day.”  (Mooish? Somebody call Dr. Doolittle; we need a translator!)

These lines by Richard, from his poem, “My Garden:”  “At twilight, the plants move as if they speak to me; I know they are connecting and communicating to my body and to my soul. Just like earth and tree, our roots and thoughts run deeply, and they wander far in space and in time, forever moving and growing, entwining like an ancient vine.” (Hey Rich, I think you’re growing more than just carrots and radishes in your garden. You and Joy should get together—it should be an interesting evening, with all those smiling cows and dancing plants.)

Deeply moved by these poetic passages—or the three-bean burrito I had last night, I’m not sure which—I was inspired to take quill in hand and pen my own rhyme, entitled “Enjoy Life:”

“Winter is so long ‘round here, warm sunny days so few.  That’s why I can’t wait for summer, and the evening barbecue. Smoky mesquite in the air, hear those T-bones sizzle! Marinated overnight, nary any gristle. Tomorrow night it’s chicken, slather on the sauce! Grill till it’s done, glazed peppered gloss.  Burgers and brats this weekend, onion and cheese on yours? Jumbo shrimp a special treat, fresh from the shores. Don’t get me wrong, I grill veggies too, gotta strive for a balanced diet!  Hey you goofball vegetarians, stop preaching, shut up and be quiet.”

I submitted my poem to the veg web administrator, but they didn’t post my prose. Doesn’t jive with their philosophy, my presumption I suppose.