Campfire Collection of Cowpoke Poetry
Friday, December 13, 2013
The rocker's legs creaked against the wooden porch floor
While the old man pondered of days gone by sittin' near the open door.
His dusty saddle, rope and worn out spurs were hung up long ago.
He no longer rode. He could barely walk. He was bent and movin' slow.
His wrinkles lifted upward from a smile and he had a twinkle in his eye
Thinkin' about ropin' and ridin' in days gone by.
He heard the campfire pop and the coyote sing.
He saw a million stars and felt the wind do its thing.
He appeared to be talkin' to his creator, though not a word was said.
It was his way of prayin' with thoughts there in his head.
The radio inside was playing his favorite tune. It was "Amazing Grace."
The old man rocked one final time and died with a smile on his face.
I wrote "Memories" as a tribute to people everywhere who have the opportunity to say good-bye to themselves before they die.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
The Bunkhouse Blog: The Bunkhouse Blog: John Deere Corn Picker: The Bunkhouse Blog: John Deere Corn Picker : "Trixie" Bumps Her Head I know each of you has done this before. It's where you...
"Gone, but not forgotten"
Well, folks it's with a sad heart I share with you that my three boys are gone, but not forgotten. Trixie doesn't understand how I feel because they weren't hers in the first place. Their mother was out of the picture for a long time. So basically I was left to raise and care for 'em.
I was the one who planted the seed - so to speak and felt responsible. I nurtured them along the way and I guess a fella might say I gave them life. I made certain they got plenty of exercises in the sun so they could be happy later and have off-spring of their own. I protected them from harm. I fed 'em everyday. Trixie didn't want them exercising in the front yard nor in the side yard, so I put up a fence of sorts out back.
Like all teenagers, they started to fight and tangle for space so I had to separate them to avoid problems. I called it time-out. As time progressed they began to grow and even had fruit of their own begin to develop (If ya know what I mean). Then one day tragedy struck. It just made me sick.
They were gone. I thought at first they ran off. I saw no signs of them anywhere. I stood over the spot where I last saw them and felt sick. Then is when I discovered the tragedy.
I sat at the kitchen table and watched Trixie pour a cup of coffee for me. She could tell something was wrong. She put the coffee pot back in its place. "What's wrong? You look almost sick."
I rubbed my forehead and set the coffee cup down on the coaster. "My boys are gone. I think they're dead. I don't know what to do."
Trixie took her hand away from her mouth. "Come with me."
I followed her out to the back yard and the place where I last saw 'em. I looked down at the empty spot. There was nothing but dirt. Trixie pointed over to the scrap pile of weeds. "Does that look like them over there?"
My jaw dropped, my eyes popped out and my posture collapsed like a balloon with all the air gone. Yep, Trixie had pulled out all my tomato plants that I raised from seeds. That was the first and will be the last time I try having a garden. I started with twenty-five seeds and ended up with three plants. After all, I'm a cowboy - not a farmer.