The Power Of The Pen Cowboy Meanders Down A Sinuous Trail Of Nouns And Verbs And Telling Detail

Bob Brown is not one to let go of life’s pleasures. He’ll capture every one and turn it into verse.

There’s a poem about his first horse ride of the spring, one about development in north Spokane and another about the events of the past year: “It rained on the hay before we got in the barn and the government raised the taxes on the farm,” reads one line.

His most recent poem, “The Good Old Bag,” is a 12-stanza verse about the February birth of triplet dairy calves, a 1 in 750,000 occurrence.

The calves were born the second week of February amid a 20-below wind-chill factor on Brown’s Half Moon Prairie farm. The birth is rare enough, and more unusual is that all three calves, two heifers and a bull, are healthy and normal size.

Brown, 58, will be reading his poem today at a cowboy poetry festival in Omak, Wash. In its seventh year, the event will also feature professional cowboy poet Baxter Black in two shows at 1 and 7 p.m.

Brown also reads at small rodeos around Spokane and at saddle festivals and fairs.

Jan Canfield, an administrator for the Omak event, said Brown called on the telephone from his 120-acre farm excited about the triplet births.

“He was so thrilled with it all he insisted on reading me the poem,” said Canfield. “I went back to the board and they said make sure he gets on the open mike session.”

The festival is expected to draw people from Canada, Oregon, Idaho, Seattle and all over Eastern Washington.

This cowboy poet spotlight is new for Brown, a Rogers High School graduate and retired Spokane police officer. He didn’t compose his first verse until six years ago.

Brown, his wife and friends were finishing a saddle ride in the mountains near Addy, Wash.

“That afternoon everything I say would come out in rhyme and we rode all afternoon,” he said. “Sometimes I wake up at 2 in the morning and it will start coming out. Little things I do cause a poem to come out.”

His wife, Pat, said Brown was a heavy drinker for years and the poetry came only after he sobered up.

“It was almost like his brain cells were numb for years and years. Then all of a sudden it (poetry) started coming out,” said his wife.

A good example of how Brown comes up with poems is one he inked about the development in north Spokane that is gobbling up family farms.

Brown plows the mile-long dead-end Bernhill Road in winter to make it easier for his neighbors to get in and out. He’ll grade the road when it washes out and plow driveways. Still, some of the lots have been divided into 10-acre parcels for single-family homes and those owners do not farm or raise animals.

So he got inspired:

“They’re moving in from near and far

he’s got a four-by-four, she’s got a

new car.

They build a house and maybe a barn

and they hang up their sign and

call it their farm.

They make a lot of dust from their

fancy rigs and then they complain

about the smell from my chickens

and pigs.

‘Oh it’s great in the country’ they rant

and they rave the next thing you

know, they want the road paved.

The road that was built by those

farmers and loggers is now filled

by bicyclists and those darn old

joggers.

To those folks I propose a toast -

why don’t you pack your bags and

move to the coast.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color photo

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: EXCERPT FROM ‘THE GOOD OLD BAG’ ‘ ‘I’m down rubbing the calf, she came straight toward my head but she didn’t want me, she started lickin’ the calf instead.” The sight of my new herd sort of made me want to cry but there was no time for that with three slimy calves to dry.”