Poems by Paul Van Peenen
“The Cow, The Hog”
By Paul Van Peenen
We love the cat, the dog,
They parade around like king and queen.
What about the cow, the hog?
They forge ahead, we jog
Behind. Leash or not, they live the dream.
We love the cat, the dog.
If one goes missing, we scour field and bog.
We don’t give up, our flashlights gleam.
What about the cow, the hog?
No factory farm. No slaughterhouse. It’s eggnog
And sweets. It’s kibbles and cream.
We love the cat, the dog.
We feature them in text and blog
And banish peripherals from the scene.
What about the cow, the hog?
It’s a kind of disconnect, a mental fog.
Blinders on, we dismiss, demean.
We love the cat, the dog,
Then thoughtlessly devour the cow, the hog.
“Meat”
By Paul Van Peenen
I whine.
Soy burgers
Don’t taste good.
The bumper sticker reads:
Friends don’t eat friends.
I give money
For the cats and dogs.
For the tigers.
For the elephants.
Yet, here I sit
With a cow on my plate.
A pig. A sheep.
It makes no sense.
- Paul Van Peenen lives in Eugene, Oregon, and has had work published in Seattle Review, Setting Forth, Foliate Oak, Poetry Superhighway and Woodcrest Magazine.
By Paul Van Peenen
We love the cat, the dog,
They parade around like king and queen.
What about the cow, the hog?
They forge ahead, we jog
Behind. Leash or not, they live the dream.
We love the cat, the dog.
If one goes missing, we scour field and bog.
We don’t give up, our flashlights gleam.
What about the cow, the hog?
No factory farm. No slaughterhouse. It’s eggnog
And sweets. It’s kibbles and cream.
We love the cat, the dog.
We feature them in text and blog
And banish peripherals from the scene.
What about the cow, the hog?
It’s a kind of disconnect, a mental fog.
Blinders on, we dismiss, demean.
We love the cat, the dog,
Then thoughtlessly devour the cow, the hog.
“Meat”
By Paul Van Peenen
I whine.
Soy burgers
Don’t taste good.
The bumper sticker reads:
Friends don’t eat friends.
I give money
For the cats and dogs.
For the tigers.
For the elephants.
Yet, here I sit
With a cow on my plate.
A pig. A sheep.
It makes no sense.
- Paul Van Peenen lives in Eugene, Oregon, and has had work published in Seattle Review, Setting Forth, Foliate Oak, Poetry Superhighway and Woodcrest Magazine.
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