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> The Next Year People, Brand new poem
vessq
post Mar 21 09, 16:53
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The Next Year People

The preacher picked us out of a stream
of National Western Stock Show enthusiasts
as we walked toward the entrance gates
on an icy sidewalk.
He approached spraying spittle,
pointed with a grimy hand,
and shouted loudly.

"Are you people of faith?
Do you believe"?
Uh-oh, I thought,
nobody, but nobody, shouts
at Grandma.

Later, over ice cream,
she said, “I've been thinking
about that sidewalk preacher
and what he was yelling.

I should have stopped
and told him of our belief.
It is pure faith to turn bulls in with cows
and believe that, come spring, there will be
Rambunctious white faced calves bucking
and bawling and butting heads.

And when we bury tiny seed
a quarter inch deep in dry soil,
we believe a miracle of lushness
will happen to feed us and our livestock.
Is that not faith?

When hard times come,
we hang on like leeches
and believe that next year
it won't hail out the wheat,
or rain on our fresh cut hay.

Next year, all the cows will have twins
and we will be able to pay the bank.
Oh yes, I should have told him,
We believe and have great faith
because we are next year people."
 
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Maggie
post Mar 21 09, 17:43
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Hi Vess,

Highly original poem!! Makes Grandma's point well!! I'd never thought about all the faith that farm people demonstrate in their daily lives before. Quite an eye opener!

Thanks for posting!!! My horizons were broadened quite a bit!!!

Peggy


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Guest_ohsteve_*
post Mar 22 09, 15:44
Post #3





Guest






Vess, some points well made about peoples differing approaches as to faith. I will return to this to see what I might do to help trim a bit, but it reads very naturally, very real. Don't wish or want to change that.
Steve
 
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Arnfinn
post Mar 27 09, 04:27
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G'day Vess,


This is a way bit deep.


I will be checking-out your reply to Steve and Peg before I venture a comment.


Interesting and thought provoking. mickeymouse.gif pinkpanther.gif



John troy.gif


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Arnfinn

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

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vessq
post Mar 27 09, 14:59
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Hi Peggy, Steve, John,

Thanks for the comments. This has to do with ranch women and how they hold everything and everyone together.

My grandad lost his place East of Pueblo, Colorado to the bank in 1933. Mostly because he did not listen to Grandmother about taking his total annual income into pay on the note and borrowing back operating money for the next year.

The old banker had died. His son took over and took everybody in sight for everything he could get. The old banker's death ruined a lot of ranchers.

We are next year people and simply start over after every disasterwas grandmother's saying.

I think there will be many people in need of the next year philosophy before our current round of banker bouts are over.

Vess
 
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Arnfinn
post Mar 28 09, 04:18
Post #6


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So, the faith was there.

It was real.

Not Bible reading faith which can be insincere.


The Next Year People

The preacher picks us out of a stream >>> maybe, 'picked'
of National Western Stock Show enthusiasts
walking toward the entrance gates
on the icy sidewalk.
He approaches spraying spittle, >>> maybe 'approached'
pointing with a grimy hand,
and shouting loudly.

Are you a person of faith?<<<
Do you believe Madam? <<<< Maybe quotation marks if these two sentances are dialogue
Uh-oh, I thought,
nobody but nobody shouts
at Grandma.

Later, over ice cream,
she said, “I've been thinking
about that sidewalk preacher
and what he was yelling.

I should have stopped
and told him of our belief.
It is pure faith to turn bulls in with cows
and believe that, come spring, there will be
Rambunctious white faced calves bucking
and bawling and butting heads.

And when we bury tiny seed
a quarter inch deep in dry soil,
we believe a miracle of lushness
will happen to feed us and our livestock.
Is that not faith?

When hard times come,
we hang on like leeches
and believe that next year
it won't hail out the wheat,
or rain on our newly cut hay.

Next year, all the cows will have twins
and we will be able to pay the bank.
Oh yes, I should have told him,
We believe and have great faith
because we are next year people>>> Maybe a fullstop and quotation mark


Those wre hard times, mate.

Yep, Grandma, had faith; no two ways about it.

Regards,

John troy.gif


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Arnfinn

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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vessq
post Mar 28 09, 11:44
Post #7


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Hi John,

Thanks for the suggestions. They are good ones. I appreciate your responding and will make the corrections in the next re-write.

Vess
 
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Psyche
post Mar 28 09, 23:15
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Hi Vess, I've dropped in too late in the night to make a proper reading. But I really dig this poem and its content. Having been brought up on a farm, I relate very much indeed to "next year people", a truly profound phrase of your grandma's. Love it!

On our farm, the apple crop was forever being bashed by hailstorms about a couple of weeks before harvest time. I remember my Dad fingering the apples' hanging on the bending trees, trying to decide on picking day...and then, the hail..! He used to say some goddam awful words..

I'll try to get back asap, Vess, tho' I don't think there's much to nitpic at all.

Best, Syl***


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Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

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vessq
post Mar 29 09, 20:15
Post #9


Babylonian
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Hi Sylvia,

Thanks for the kind words.

The note about your dad and the apples made me think of a young woman who grew up in a family apple growing and packing family.

She said her uncle would always turn to his wife when the last box was picked, packed, and shipped and say. "Now, cover me with love for I am tired of apples."

It is all about faith in and love for what we do.

Vess
 
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Psyche
post Apr 2 09, 22:04
Post #10


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Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
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Referred By:David Ting



Yes, precisely, Vess. All that worry & hard work is deeply rooted in faith & love. I agree with you.

In our case, since we were quite poor, apples appeared on the table every day, in some sort of fashion, until I was SO sick of eating them..! My Dad stored them in a cold, dry room, in boxes and on shelves, and I remember him turning them around regularly, to keep them from bruising. Just the way one takes care of a bedridden person, to keep away the bed sores...wow...

And of course "our" apples were second class, the ones not sent to market..!

Nowadays, I'm very fond of apples.

Best, Syl***

QUOTE (vessq @ Mar 30 09, 04:15 ) [snapback]114389[/snapback]
Hi Sylvia,

Thanks for the kind words.

The note about your dad and the apples made me think of a young woman who grew up in a family apple growing and packing family.

She said her uncle would always turn to his wife when the last box was picked, packed, and shipped and say. "Now, cover me with love for I am tired of apples."

It is all about faith in and love for what we do.

Vess


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Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

MM Award Winner
 
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merle
post Apr 17 09, 00:30
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Hi Vess - My grandfather was a cattle rancher but supplemented his income as a salesman during the lean years. Farming and ranching are difficult and unreliable professions. It takes a lot of faith to continue year after year. Love the poem.


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vessq
post Apr 18 09, 19:47
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Real Name: vess quinlan
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Hi Merle,

Thanks for the comments.

I would drive truck across country when calves and alfalfa did not bring enough to pay the bills. I have a friend who says what every rancher needs most is a wife with a good job in town.

Vess
 
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Blank_Canvas
post Jul 7 09, 06:07
Post #13


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I am not stopping by with a critique for you...I see very little that needs changing. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed this poem of simple faith. Hard working folks have to rely a lot on this pure faith...and you are right...in light of the current economic failures...we are going to need more of it than ever. May God bless us all...
~Marcia~


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"...We are born into the world like a blank canvas
and every person that crosses our path takes up the brush and makes their mark upon our surface.
So it is that we develop.
But we must realize there comes a day that we must take up the brush and finish the work. For only we can determine if we are to be just another painting or a masterpiece..."

1981 Javan (from the book " Meet Me Halfway" )

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vessq
post Jul 23 09, 12:21
Post #14


Babylonian
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From: Alamosa, Colorado USA
Member No.: 742
Real Name: vess quinlan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:serendipity



Hi Marcia,

Thanks for the kind words. The world I grew up in (born 1940) was simpler and in many ways more fun. We worked harder with less return. I still think it was the best possible time to be born in America.

The great wars were over. My dad and uncles survived and returned to work on ranches all over the west. I was too young for Korea and married with children during Vietnam.

I could and did provide a good life for my family drawing small wages. Married Cowboys when I started were paid $185 per month, a house, half a beef per year, and a fresh milk cow.

Believe it or not, we lived well. Preferred Blue Cross was $35.00 per month. I do not envy my grandchildren.

Vess
 
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