Dawn Barber: Cow Band

The cows are walking slowly
With their tails moving side to side
There is no rush
They hold their heads up with pride
They are the cow band
And what a beautiful sight they are
They reach into all of our hearts
Carnival is coming again
And what a gift that is
Bringing sunshine and joy to everyone.

Glory Sengo: Cow Band

Cow band is you greet to cows
in a cow band festival Carnival
Outside in Newham in Wythe Road
Walking down the street dancing
Dancing with the cow band
Wythe Road past Drew Primary School
Passed the Tate Project
And the sun was playing outside
Of the nursery rhymes
While I was dancing with the cow band.

Robert Punton: Cow Band 1

The cow is special, the cow is sacred, cow is divine,
I band with my cow, want to join their herd,
ensure that they never get hurt, or distort
Which is why I turned vegetarian,
Choose not to eat their flesh or drink their milk
For me cow should be allowed to roam the pastures with pleasure,
Not farmed for human consumption or pleasure
Which is why I am happy to band with the cow
Band with the cow to ban the farming of the cow.

Robert Punton: Cow Band 2

When I hear the cow bell chime at dawn, I am filled with joy
Like being called to celebrate their being, join in their joy
At this time of year especially, as this is Carnival season.
Not that we need a reason to praise man and beast
coming together in harmony,
In praise of the glory of the natural order of the world
So, let us sing, dance, and make merry, until the cows come home
For that way lies the best future for us all.

Zillah Bridget Boswell-Coleman: The Cowbell

The cowbell rang a year ago, at Gatwick, at Gatwick.
When I got the email the carnival began, and is still ringing.

I am happy. I was always happy, happy as the huge smile with teeth
bearing from end to end, no food stuck, only lip smiling, giant smile,
happily.

The cowbell rings, rings like Cathedral bells before mass, before the
wedding of mines in the night sky, following the floats and the giant
teeth to teeth.

Happy.

One year ago I began this cowbell happiness, and Carnival unleashed
my spirit, formally bound by late night phone calls that kept me awake.

Now refreshed, the great shower of water down on Baran Parks in
London town.

I follow the dances and bright colours, unleashed from their chores and mocking their employers. I follow and dance, my due respect to the great Carnival smile that started one year ago.

You were there, but absent from the Carnival, not, not unleashed from necessity.

The great happiness began when I stopped waiting, and I just danced.

The procession went through Hyde Park, mostly the perimeter, and I saw my other self standing, waiting with Hugo for the 139. But here I was, holding each side of my Carnival smile and swaying to the varied June, varied cowbells, Bow Bells, that herald in my dance, my following, bells that ring for you, Father.

One year on from the emails, bells somewhere, despite the ridiculousness of balancing items on the self checkout, each chime holding up our smiles, not only while we spread our lips wide, from each corner of this city, this country, this globe, to dance and shake and follow the King and Queen in rags behind masks.

We smile behind memories of hundreds of years of waiting, were freedom behind sixty years of awaiting to dance just like this.
And, and, and—

bang,
bang,
bang.

Cloudless, my Carnival sky will scorch softly on my moonless night, and deep tones of more cowbells that you, Father, will also hear somewhere in your dreams, when your memory takes me to my procession.

Zillah Bridget Boswell-Coleman: Kitchen Cowbells

Cowbell rang,
not Switzerland, not Tobago,
but right here, right now,
in my kitchen,
where I danced and danced,
barefoot and smiling,
head thrown back in wild abandon,
silent cowbells chiming,
banging,
ringing,
smiling,
thundering
from tooth to tooth,
each end of my smile,
my kitchen,
my life,
my day.
Limits enlivened,
limbs enlivened,
yet exhausted from the dance,
dodging the table around the room
in small circles,
over and over,
for days and days,
ringing and chiming
the cowbells of different tones,
which continued after I sat
and rested,
until, in the heatwave,
the door opened.
I forgot
number 100,
number 101
and 102.
I still danced,
and droplets of little
masked, smiling faces
looked back at me.
Once flung onto the floor,
they became little people
and danced,
and we held hands
forever.

This is not the Endo: Daisy won’t do it

Daisy and the herd are munching away
When the farmer announces, “I have something to say.”
Next to him is a man in a corporate suit
With a clip board, and those fancy welly boots

“This man here would like to ask for a volunteer”
You know the drill girls, it is that time of year”
The man spoke, “We need someone to jump over the moon
to come in just before the dish and the spoon”
Daisy sidled up to the man and asked,

“why do you make us do this
every year?
The reason for doing so has never been quite clear”
The man looked down his nose at her with suspicion
“Well, because at this point it is tradition!”

Daisy scoffed, “Tradition be damned, I’m not jumping over the moon
not for anyone, especially not some corporate goon”
As one the herd turned and started to move away
and Daisy announced, “There will be no moon jumping, not today”

Robert Punton: Happy Cow 1

I am always joyous to see a happy cow
For happy cows mean the herd is being properly looked after
That the farmers cares about his herd, is taking care of his livestock,
If I hear of cows being harmed, I get outraged,
I want to run amok with a pitchfork over the farmland
If the cows are happy, I will happily sing until the cows come home.

Robert Punton: Happy Cow 2

The cow stands in the field, their field, mooing at the moon
He wonders why she is so happy, she just knows that she is
Strolling around the field enjoying her day the only time she is bothered
When the farmer takes her in to be milked, even that is a relief
It is no fun having your udders under pressure full of milk
That is the only time she must move at human speed,
Human time is so hectic, how do humans manage,
why are they always in such a rush,
She prefers cows pace life should not be a race
Take your time eat the grass smell the flowers, be at one with nature
You are part of nature, nature is part of you, that is the natural way
She has in the past heard her herd referred to as mad cows,
Well, if this is madness then bring it on
She is also a happy cow because she is a dairy cow not a cattle cow
Thank the Gods.

Julie Newman: The Cow’s Happy Place

The cow woke up.

The birds were singing
their cheerful welcomes to the day.

She looked around.
The sun was just beginning
to show over the mountains.

The fields were no longer dark,
and dew caught the early light
on grass and hedges.

Then she noticed
something had happened overnight.

There was a smell
she didn’t recognise.

The cow stood quietly
and took a long sniff.

The smell caught her nose
and made it twitch.

As she wondered
where it had come from,
she noticed clouds
sitting on top of the hills.

Not like the clouds
that usually brought her rain.

These were heavy.
Dark.

The other cows began
to move towards each other,
restless in this strange new world.

The farmer paused
as she dropped fresh hay
at the side of the field.

The trough was filled
with fresh water.

Then, turning to the cows,
she said,

“Don’t be frightened.

The smell is smoke
blowing over us from miles away.

We are safe.

But we need to share our fields
with the rabbits and birds
who might need somewhere safe to be.”

As the day progressed,
the cows found their own patches of grass
and settled for the day.

A flock of seagulls
was joined by curlews.

They pottered happily around,
enjoying the pickings in the field.

Some rabbits poked their heads
out from the hedges,
paused,
then quietly sat down
to eat their fill of grass.

The cow stood
and looked around.

The birds were safe.
The rabbits were safe.
The cows were safe.

She took another long breath.

This is my happy place,
she thought.

Glory Sengo: Cows

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