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Poetry Contest!

And the winner is…

Wow! We were all so knocked out by the fantastic, thoughtful entries! Thank you to all for participating!

We want to give a special shout out to Chris Bechtold, our sourcing partner and ranch manager of the Diamond-4-D ranch in Montana for his "Buffalo Ranchers Soliloquy". You said it just right and oh-so beautifully! Also, a special mention to a few other's who made many of the judges top 5 list: Chuck Beatty's "Prairie Haiku", Lisa Lewis's "Translation Between Friends" and Chuck Tompkins "Where the Buffalo Roam". Great job and thank you so much. 

You can read all the above mentioned along with all entries below in the comment section. 

And now.... drum roll please.....

Our April poetry contest has come to a close.
It was hard to pick, but we finally chose.
The poetry winner is not one but two.
Maria and Suzanne hats off to you!
You can read their poems right below here!
One will make you laugh and other will make you tear.

Congratulations Suzanne & Maria, we will be reaching out to make arrangements  for Dan O'Brien's visit for your personal reading!

Maria Reeves "Wild Idea Rhyme

There once was a woman with so much to do,
Between work, and the house, and mouths to feed, too.
She went to the store, where the labels were tricky,
With preservatives, sugars, and colorings (icky!)
The antibiotics, hormones, and living conditions made her feel blue.

She thought, “we must do better,” and began searching online.
Where she found Wild Idea (just in the nick of time).
Better than organic, is what the O’Briens say.
The buffalo revered, and roaming all day.
Finally, a place she could get behind: restoring the prairie one bite at a time!

With so many options, the woman placed her first order,
And filled up her freezer like a buffalo hoarder.
Now meatloaf, and ribeyes, and sirloins abound.
There’s even trachea and bones for her dogs to be found.
So thanks Wild Idea for being transparent and getting this customer on-board(er).

From her family to yours, she wishes only the best. 
And believes with Wild Idea, the prairie is blessed.
She loves the ranch kitchen, and Jill’s recipes, too.
Now dinners seem so easy, and healthier (it’s true!)
Thanks for reducing her food industry stress!


Suzanne Core "
Redeemer of the Plains"

Listen in the silence for the buffalo,
Pounding rhythm of its hooves, your heartbeat.
Listen to the pulsing, steady, still.
Its longing felt in every field and hill.

Listen to the silence of the buffalo:
Tears in the heart. Protected grass and sod. 
Like its Creator could not protect itself. 
Destroyed by man pretending-to-be god.

Listen for the silence of the buffalo.
Billions of ghost feet roam the mists of time:
Its stolen spaces filled with brick and stone
And memories of when it was its own.

Listen with the Silence to the buffalo.
Its grace slowly returns to its domains.
Home. It calls. to Man. To help. To Be. 
Love. Life. Redeemer of the Plains.

Again - congratulations!

____________________________________________

Poetry Contest Announcement
Win a chance for author, rancher and environmentalist, Dan O'Brien to do a reading at your home, business or school!


April is National Poetry month, so we are throwing a free-style poetry contest!  There are over 50 different types of poetry, which is way too complicated... so, we are keeping it simple with two freestyle categories; poems that rhyme and poems that don’t.  There is only one caveat; the poem must contain the word buffalo or bison.

We encourage you to play (enter), to win a chance at having our own in-house writer, Dan O’Brien visit you for a reading at your home, school or business. Plus - we’ll throw in $200.00 worth of our artisan charcuterie so you can invite friends too!

Our in-house group of judges will select one overall winner, which will be announced on April 26th, “Put a Poem in your Pocket Day”.

So poets - start salivating over your words and put them to pen (keyboard) and enter. It’s easy, write your poem and copy and paste it in the comment section below this blog. Here are a couple of examples from our in-house poets to get you going!

Awakened Palate

Leaves danced on her face
reflections of the wind and light

Her body heavy with sleep
still belonging to the night

A morning kiss on the lips
awoke the memory of her palate

A dish of steamed mussels,
buffalo chorizo, wine, and shallot

Dreamy meals are rare,
and some aren’t worth a thought

But perhaps it’s time to change that
and go Wild Idea or wild caught!

A.E.C.


Prairie King

The Bison stands with strength and courage, holding tight to the responsibility of his domain.
He waits unknowing yet fully aware and alive.
It’s lonely at the top but the journey was tough and full.
He stands waiting, calmly, deliberately to claim what in his.
He is his own master now, protector and leader of his kingdom.

H.C.N.

*Published poets, employees or associates of Wild Idea Buffalo Company will not be eligible to win - but we welcome you to play!  

We look forward to you sharing your poem with us! And... good luck to all!  

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51 comments

  • Here is my seminal haiku from which the longer haiku submitted earlier evolved:

    Brown woolly bovine
    Indians’ roaming pantry
    Monarch of the plains!

    Donald L. Williams
  • Redeemer of the Plains

    Listen in the silence for the buffalo,
    Pounding rhythm of its hooves, your heartbeat.
    Listen to the pulsing, steady, still.
    Its longing felt in every field and hill.

    Listen to the silence of the buffalo:
    Tears in the heart. Protected grass and sod.
    Like its Creator could not protect itself.
    Destroyed by man pretending-to-be god.

    Listen for the silence of the buffalo.
    Billions of ghost feet roam the mists of time:
    Its stolen spaces filled with brick and stone
    And memories of when it was its own.

    Listen with the Silence to the buffalo.
    Its grace slowly returns to its domains.
    Home. It calls. to Man. To help. To Be.
    Love. Life. Redeemer of the Plains.

    Suzanne Core
  • Buffalo Soul

    Great Massive being
    You carry warm memories.
    Lost times, lost lives…live.

    Debra j Gordon-Hellman
  • The Bison Ranchers Soliloquy
    I don’t want to complain, to gripe, or to prattle,
    But there’s no way in hell I’ll go back to raising cattle
    I’ve changed my perspective on range and on grass
    And in my firm opinion, cows are a pain in the ass
    I’m not up all the night in the cold and the snow
    Fighting first calf heifers that just don’t rightly know

    No, for me there is beauty in seeing calves born keen
    On warm spring grass newly turned green
    And watching little orange babies healthy and spry
    Running and bucking beneath the Curlew’s cry

    There’s been a rumor that cattle won the West
    But I’ve always believed that Nature knows best
    And it may have taken a hundred and fifty trips around the sun,
    But the plains are seeing a return of the bison
    The change is coming, steady and slow, but the prairie is coming back …
    And so are the buffalo!

    Chris Bechtold
  • For but just a moment, todays rays of the settling sun, give me comfort, for tomorrows blades of grass swaying in the breeze, growing to great heights, harvesting a feast for Bison on the run,, crisp, clean, natural source of Ambrosia,
    as those rays are so intended,This pursuit for our people, our future, our heart, what a Wild Idea ,Great Plains indeed.

    trish weems
  • My poem was originally published in “Lyrical Iowa 2009” by The Iowa Poetry Association as part of their 64th annual anthology. I understand due to having been previously published, it will not be eligible for competition, but it seems appropriate to share it with you and the people who follow your blog.

    PROVIDER

    They call me Buffalo.

    They call me North American Bison.

    They call me Tatanka.

    I am a giant, plodding beast

    quietly grazing.

    I am a thundering herd

    racing with the wind.

    I defend my turf.

    I protect my herd.

    Look into my eyes.

    Look deeply into an eon

    of my species’ genetic memory.

    I am a provider.

    I provide meat and clothing.

    I provide blankets and shelter.

    I restore the prairie.

    I add value to the prairie.

    Just give me land to graze.

    Give me space to roam, to be wild and free.

    I will continue to be your provider.

    © 2009 The Iowa Poetry Association & William P. Riddle

    William Riddle
  • Wild Idea Rap

    We are grass fed
    Grass finished I said
    Wild Idea Bison on the plains

    We taste de-licious
    Respected…esteemed
    Anti-biotic free

    Venerated, applauded, appreciated, ad-ulated
    We are… G-M-O free

    So when you’re crav’in
    Your dream’in
    Your hungers got you scream’in
    Opt for meat sustan-abil-ity

    Some salt and pepper some heat
    A little song with a beat
    A fork and knife
    is all you need

    Aimee E Spring-Cecil
  • YOU MAY HAVE LOST THE BATTLE, BUT YOU HAVEN’T LOST THE WAR

    Oh great bison, can you smell the irony in the air?

    The same species that drove you to the brink of extinction now nurses you back to strength.

    What an incomprehensible species this is.

    The few who abhor the past senseless slaughter, now work that you might gain a foothold, and they might find untainted nourishment.

    Oh great bison can you smell the irony in the air?

    The species that elevates itself above all God’s creations, is the only one the Earth would not lament the loss of.

    He who has improved upon Mother Nature has painted himself into a toxic corner where factory farm animals languish and the pseudo nourishment, they provide slowly saps his strength.

    Oh great Bison do you smell the irony in the air?

    When only the human is capable of inhumanity? And the greatest pest is succumbing to his own agents of destruction?

    And yet there are those, the few, the rare – who would dedicate their lives to saving you; who would seek to make amends for past destruction.

    What an incomprehensible species this is.

    Alas, pride goeth before the fall, and the pedestal is tall and covered with the mass of humanity busy congratulating themselves on their clever improvements to God’s system. They do not feel the swaying.

    Oh great Bison do you smell the irony in the air?

    When a species of idiot-savants who create a million ingenious devices, see no need for nursing their young, or overseeing their learning.

    When they allow them to be fed on chemically laden foods and then delude themselves into thinking all is well.

    So, roam your golden prairie where blue skies dome your world. Watch winter crystals melt away as spring grasses seek the warming sun. Rut and romp and calve and nurse, God’s system is your savior.

    Oh great bison do you smell the irony in the air?

    You may have lost the battle, but you haven’t lost the war.

    M. Davis
  • Buffalo Whisperer

    It was a cool foggy morning driving up through the Custer State Park

    I was hoping to capture the sunrise emerging through the fog over the hills

    A bald eagle flies out of nowhere

    I pulled over to watch it flying around

    A herd of buffalo emerges out of the heavy fog from the west

    I get out of my pickup I walk closer to the herd of buffalo

    I just had to capture the herd of buffalo and with the bald eagle flying around

    Donkeys started coming closer

    Younger buffalo calves brushing up closely to there moms

    Wind started picking up slowly sprinkling

    Slowly walk closer to capture more video footage

    I felt invisible amongst the herd of buffalo

    Thee bald eagle was watching over me

    Chris diede
  • ANCESTRAL CALLINGS

    The buffalo
    they were here in the beginning,
    from below the Earth they came, helping us come out of the surface when we were afraid.
    They are returning again,
    heads heavy with wisdom,
    ancient teachings of the Earth,
    they are returning again,
    Survivors of survivors, bringing forth the ancient songs
    we have lost, or forgotten
    with senses
    of a world much older than ours. We go on,
    if they move in the world, we go on.
    With shaggy heads, they mend our Circle,
    with their voices in the wind,
    with their delicate hooves,
    they graze in our sacred valleys,
    The four-leggeds.

    Leon Aliski
  • Our eyes locked…
    I see the Old Soul…
    Reeking of wild strength…
    Gazing at me…
    Evaluating my spirit…
    With a snort, and a stomp,
    The spell that transports me is broken…
    The buffalo turns
    And moves on.

    Lise Tesch
  • Tatanaka Muse

    Look Button, do you see the buffalo?
    I asked my not quite one-year old daughter
    A small herd, maybe five or six, grazed the fenced field
    On our tiny Puget Sound island

    Horns curved pushing out from under massive robed heads
    Brown curls sloped down spines that slough snow
    A tufted beard
    Charcoal brown ovals in a brilliant green pasture

    And she who had not yet spoken
    Not yet formed her first word beyond Mama and Da
    Eyes sparkling legs kicking
    Reached tiny arms towards ancient forms

    Then silence
    Still
    And timeless
    As we drove on by

    From the back seat came a clear, definitive voice:
    “Buppayo, Mama, Buppayo”

    Juli Goetz Morser
  • Buffalo dance
    Buffalo prance
    Round and round the bison ranch
    Buffalo move
    Buffalo groove
    To a tune paased down through many moons
    To a tune heard only through hooves

    Lisa Carlson
  • Ode to the North American Bison

    Lumbering beast
    looking at me
    eye to eye
    slowly walking my way,

    Are your steps careful, precise
    or merely the plodding of one
    short on wit and wisdom,
    a golem not so much protecting
    my people from predators
    merely a creature born of mud
    with more muscle and sinew
    than sense of purpose,
    protecting no one so much
    as projecting the memory
    of all we have destroyed
    on this country’s vain march to imperial greatness
    that knows neither morality
    nor even a flicker
    of self awareness or doubt?

    I would incautiously hug you
    if I could but alas
    my arms are too short
    and my self awareness too long,
    so i nuzzle you in my mind
    hear your sad cry in my soul
    and feel the loss of innocence
    knowing eden was so long ago
    that perhaps it never really existed.

    Howard Lieberman
  • There once was a woman with so much to do,
    Between work, and the house, and mouths to feed, too.
    She went to the store, where the labels were tricky,
    With preservatives, sugars, and colorings (icky!)
    The antibiotics, hormones, and living conditions made her feel blue.

    She thought, “we must do better,” and began searching online.
    Where she found Wild Idea (just in the nick of time).
    Better than organic, is what the O’briens say.
    The buffalo revered, and roaming all day.
    Finally, a place she could get behind: restoring the prairie one bite at a time!

    With so many options, the woman placed her first order,
    And filled up her freezer like a buffalo hoarder.
    Now meatloaf, and ribeyes, and sirloins abound.
    There’s even trachea and bones for her dogs to be found.
    So thanks Wild Idea for being transparent and getting this customer on-board(er).

    From her family to yours, she wishes only the best.
    And believes with Wild Idea, the prairie is blessed.
    She loves the ranch kitchen, and Jill’s recipes, too.
    Now dinners seem so easy, and healthier (it’s true!)
    Thanks for reducing her food industry stress!

    Maria

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