Daisy trips and falls apart
The mysterious rider brings her back
And now wonders how she ll find
The way back home cause is its off the line
And runs away leaving the rider alone
He comes back for her
On the dark dawn
She refuses to go back to his lost life
The angered rider loses control
Cause daisy was the one whom he loved from soul
And for one last time he asks her to go
To the dark den with him for eternal light
For daisy nods no cause she loves her home
Fuming with fury he wins along
Cause daisy said she will stand her ground
The rider calls in his horse to take leave
Distressed yet still in love he climbs his horse
Galloping his horse he starts to race
While snatching daisy from her most beloved home
Cautious and anxious she struggles through the ride
Then comes the deepest valley with the bridge
Daisy unknown of the little bit of it
Tussling and grappling the little doll piece
Falls of the bridge before he could grab her
Bawling for help when taws’ to late for her
And once again
Daisy trips and falls apart
But the mysterious rider on black mare couldn’t save her fall
For he is down with the heart ache of his lost love
And as said so........
He wanders on the edge of the bridge you see
In search of his lost love or her screams
not knowing its too late for all her pleas
'Cos the daisy was the one whom he loved from h soul.
And daisy said no cause she loved her home
And so goes the story of one lost soul who took control with her innocent prose
The good budgery fella with a bottle of rum,
Pretty good bird is the budgery-gar one,
Arthur eyeshades came a walking by,
One eye one ear one rissole,
Looking for the budgery fella, why?
A little nip was good as gold,
Where are you budgery fella,
Ole Yarraman the horse he was,
And Milinbri was cattle,
If the boss see me a spearing one?
cos, good meat yer brain might addle?
so duck ya head sidestep away,
go into a Magpie smother,
flail ya arms like a loonatic hey,
don’t go and tell yer mother,
Budgeri fella was right here,
On his horse he rode away,
Sucking on a bottle of rum, ya hear,
The pigrooter threw him hey?
There were Indians just over the Brazos
With a buffalo herd in between
They weren’t trying to stay hidden
They wanted to be seen
The chief of these Comanche
Buffalo Hump by name
They say no one's looked him in the eyes
Was ever quite the same
The COL said go parlay
Invite the chief to sup
I want to look him in the eye
And determine just what’s up
With our white sheet fluttering in the wind
Like the scalps on the big Chief’s lance
We started out across the plain
Taking quite a chance
Our crooked-tooth Pawnee scout
Led the way through the herd
Through the smell of a thousand animals
And the sound that would drown each word
I felt and smelled their hot breath
As I rode my pony near
I turned my pony into the throng
A pathway none too clear
Inching through the buffalo
Blinded by the dust
I held on fast to the reins
Just riding my pony's trust
Once through the thundering buffalo
I glanced up to the rise
The Indians still were waiting there
Much to my surprise
The Pawnee scout then turned to us
Said if they should attack
First take out the big chief
Then that little one in the back
I can understand the big chief
But why the little guy
He said he’s like a badger
He’ll fight until he dies
He said that one's a horse thief
The best you'll ever find
He'll snatch a horse from under you
As if you had gone blind
The big chief started towards us
Shut up the Pawnee said
You young boys keep your damn traps shut
I’ll do the talking instead
The Comanche’s body shone with grease
Had a necklace made of claws
He had a stench about him
That made you gag and pause
My eyes met the chief’s eyes
My hand rested on my gun
He had a look could kill a soul
But I was too scared to run
The Pawnee and Comanche
Spoke in some foreign tongue
I vowed to learn their language
While I was still young
Then all at once the chief turned
And rode on up the hill
Our Pawnee scout turned back for camp
But I just sat there still
For he had pointed at me
With that scalp encrusted lance
And said he’d have MY scalp one day
If he ever got the chance
For last week on the Brazos
Someone had killed his son
And looking me right in the eye
He knew I was the one
1st place finish in contest
For PD’s contest dare. Chapter 11 of Dead Man's Walk by Larry McMurtry. It has been years since I read a western but am finding this one interesting.
It was far, far beneath the sun
at the glorious Kentucky Ranch
The a proud horseman, Henry Jones
was called to ride the pride of Kentucky
Black Caviar was his name.
This stud lived every day to out-run all he could
34 wins he had to his name
and now he would ride his last 35th
Black Caviar was practicing for his 35th ride
when a fine 2 year old female
named Sugar passed caviars' way
Well Caviar couldn't concentrate and kept
running over toward the female
and the horseman was having trouble controlling him
So they waited till all the females
were gone from the field.
This last 35th race would be a result
of Black Caviar's meeting Sugar.
He was all pumped up and ready to run.
The gun shot out and the horses jumped
Black Caviar, jumped the farthest
he hurried around the track effortlessly
an won his 35th and last race.
After the accolades his trainer took
him back to see Sugar. They hooked up
and Sugar gave birth to a beautiful
black son and they named him Onyx.
Onyx grew up to win 25 races of his own.
Where the river runs into the Chesapeake Bay.
The currents run strong and they say "Beware".
Many a man has ignored it and sunk to his doom.
On white capped waters beneath a crystal blue sky
where a thousand men live by the tide,
one boy drifts and awaits the return of the moon.
In a tiny row boat with a four horse Merc.
He braves the bay to where the Rockfish lurk.
Gonna catch him a big one and prove to his Dad he's a man.
When the waters went still and the wind began.
He was too young to know the mess he was in.
He never turned back when the bay started yelling it's name.
The boat pitched forward and rocked to the back.
Waves so high that the sky went black
but the boy stayed steady and never showed any fear.
A white Bucktail on ten pound test,
he dropped the line off the side and grabbed a life vest.
He held on tight to his rod as the storm drew near.
Thunder clapped and the sky lit up.
The boy got excited when his rod gave a tug.
He never noticed the water that was filling his boat.
He started reeling with all of his might
when the angry old bay joined in on the fight.
Against a boy no longer, a fight against a full grown man.
When the storm passed by and the sky turned blue.
A boat on the beach with a small red shoe
and the biggest Rockfish ever landed in the Chesapeake Bay.
In a tiny row boat with a four horse Merc.
A boy braved the bay to where the Rockfish lurk
and lived to tell his story over and over again.
Aquila and Moondust
Sat together in soft firelight
No words spoken
Everything had been said
Through their hearts
The love awoken
The moon rose high in the night sky
Moondust felt the movement of moons and stars
She saw Aquila
Here and high above
What she felt in her heart
She knew why
All of it….
Aquila took an arrow
Launched it to the sky
Feathers of gold and brown
He tracked its’ course
Through stars and light
Where it fell
It drew forth a horse
A rustling of leaves
brought by a soft hoof fall
Through shadows and wind gust
In, strode a horse
For the precious Moondust
Such a horse of soft eyes
came to Moondust
If you could see
in its’ face, so wise
The firelight of love
Of things, broken
Now , whole
What it meant
The completed soul
Moondust touched his face
Looked to Aquila
Never had an arrow flew
Through stars and light
To bring forth a horse
The horse quietly stood
Together they felt
In a Heartstone wood
Of things once broken
No words were spoken
The horse drew close
She whispered his name
known only to them
Such a horse of soft eyes
Took away her tears
of previous lost years
Made her strong again
Destroyer ~ Poet
Contest Name 5TH POEM ON THE SOUP..
POISON! 1st first.
I was coming up from Tamworth, riding on a tired horse.
Past Barraba we wandered north, on a slow and dusty course.
Near Barraba I drew short rein, and paused to watch a sight.
A boy was thrown off again, a black horse
who'd buck and fight.
It's there I made an offer grim, to the
farmer and his son.
Swop you horses and I'll ride him,
with this bludger I'll have fun.
I mounted and he bucked away,
I spurred and drove him on.
I was the winner on the day,
cantered off and I was gone.
He was a black and evil thing,
he wouldn't give me half a chance.
He'd bite and kick like lightning, surely
buck and root and prance.
Saturday morning in Moree,
saw aunt Mona at the pub.
She said "get a paper for me",
said "I'll get it for you love."
Dirty Shirt Molloy got a paper
for me, for I couldn't leave the horse.
Black Poison rooted like a flea,
reefed his head up, used some force.
An Irish cop he grabbed the reins,
and held them in his hand.
Arrested us we had no brains,
he'd jail us both quite grand.
My spurs they gouged him proper,
the black lurched down the street.
He bucked and kicked the copper,
clean bowled him off his feet.
We galloped for the border
through a sea of clinging mud.
Coppers chased us in flivver,
to a river choked by flood.
So I dived him in the Gwyder,
off a steep sharp falling bank.
Then we surfaced horse and rider,
wet as shags from nose to flank.
Ride round the coppers came the order,
and bypass all the towns.
Swam the river at the border,
dodged the police, we'd lost those clowns.
A true story of my father's visit to Tamworth Australia in 1936...
So I look back for 60 years to my old bay horse star...
Hard mouthed, a galloper just the thing,
at 5 what speed and power....
My chestnut pony stallion was a pig rooter with the best,...
Got dumped when I relaxed a bit, to ride him was my test....
Bronco Don loved a spirited horse he said ...
He taught me riding some...
Don't let em bloody drop their head ,...
hang on, with the horse be one!...
You feed a horse some chaff and oats ...
Its spirit lifts with power...
City folk say don't be a goat ...
Coil springs the pigroot hour....
Dons droving horses always got a feed...
Of chaff and oats for strength ...
Horses ridden every day would need...
quart of oats, strong horses meant....
Try it if you ride very well.....Don Johnson..
So you would saddle this springy horse and take it for a lead at the canter,
it would buck with the saddle and get the hoops out of it for the days work.
Then you would tighten the girth strap and mount a lively horse.
Never underestimate a lively horse.....Don Johnson :)
Just watching the Magnificent Seven again,
Seen it many times of course,
Yul Brynner and Steve Mc Queen,
Two horsemen a sitting their horses,
When horse and man move as one,
You know, these are men that can ride,
Old drovers could tell in a heartbeat,
Yes it’s a matter of pride,
For when you have lived in the saddle,
And you feel the beat of his heart,
Your horse does carry you gladly,
gets a grip, like your only sweetheart ,
but my friend and I are now parted,
no longer his whinny or sigh,
but I still have his saddle,
just a horseman, a waiting to die.
Don Johnson 18-sep-11
Contest Name WHAT TURNS YOU ON?
A Cowboy is.
Out on the stock route 10 mile days
Keep those cattle moving
He hopes there’s grass and water, prays
His seat he won’t be losing……..watch them yang yang horses
The cattle settle down at night
Bout midnight up they jump in fright
Camp is damaged, swags alight
You wonder why he’s boosing….drive you to drinking
You follow the tracks dodge a brown snake
Old horse does sidestep Blue
Grab for saddle monkey Jack does make
Then gets off the ground quick, too
Takes all day to find the mob
And a few strays on their own
The stock route has fences Bob
But numbers are right, I own
So we bring em to the rail head
And put em in a yard
And head for the nearest pub, Fred
Drink a few pints of fourex at the bar.
Sea snake is most venomous then comes ol coffin head Taipan
who lives in Queensland Australia
2nd most poisonous on the planet im told, then comes Brownie 3rd
i've killed a dozen in my time in the Aussie bush, we have a short fellow called the death adder he will kill you too if you step on him.
Brownie is 10 times worse than a Cobra. So it gets the adrenaline pumping
if you fall of your horse near a brown snake
Back in 1880 you will find, Joe White he was about.
The brumby runner master mind. Of this I'll leave no doubt.
He took from Mugan station, 600 brumbies yes my friend.
Had the best riders of the nation, on which he could depend.
From Mungindi to Sydney town, drove brumbies didn't fail.
They'd stop em block em right around, horse broke em for the sale.
The horse who broke and left the mob, got grabbed by the tail and threw.
A sideline or a hobble's job, made of green hide it'd do.
Wet greenhide sideline when applied, front to back the legs were held.
He couldn't canter if he tried, to stay he was compelled.
Joe saw the difference in every track,to read from them he knew.
He was as good as any black, he'd track ants across the dew.
Two Dancy boys they wandered lost, were gone a day or two.
At black tracker's, oh these kid's did scoff, Joe found them pay his due.
These small dark boys they had some fun,yes hid their tracks with care.
Joe saw the tracks of only one, or the other ones were there.
One boy would carry piggy back, then came the others turn.
A way to hide one fellows track, gave the tracker some concern?
Joe followed cantered in their wake, knew their tracks in any bunch.
To find them was a piece of cake, so he took em home for lunch.
Joe's brother Dick was branded bad, now an outlaw on the run.
A publican robbed him, made him mad, Dick smashed his grog, the bum.
The traps they came but couldn't find, Dick's cave the hideout site,
Couldn't follow the White's, who didn't mind, scrub galloping day or night.
So Dick White he then set off, with brothers Joe and Charlie too.
They rode due west three states they'd cross, till Broome came into view.
Dick's wife and kids by ship did pass,then on to Broome by overland.
Joe left Dick there safe at last,rode east through desert sand.
Joe and Charlie back they came,through the land that worked the horse.
They'd throw scrubbers, brumbies they were game,horse breakers yes of course.
They'd throw a brumby on his side,quickly lugged his head by force.
Would saddle up and mount and ride, and coax him home a horse.
Joe entered the open campdraft mate,with a wee small handicap.
Left his bridle and girth straps on the gate, won the Mungindi cup old chap.
Joe's brumby runners one was Dan, at Glenrowan hadn't died.
Alex Wilkie chased as off they ran, and Moffat he could ride.
The legend lives of Joe this man, true master of the horse.
The drovers talked of him and Dan,and Hippy yes of course.
The infantry open up for the cavalry
At full horse power speed they attack
Too late to use artilleries now
But it made some horses tumble, about a fifty
Six hundred horse ran to the infantry
Infantry too late for squares ran to the cavalry
They fired there muskets, brought down some sixty horses
It was the time of the cavalry lances where release
Unlike arrows it killed two at a time. The cavalry ran
On the infantry. Head out of necks, arms out of scapulas, and legs out of hips.
The whole army retreats, they send their whole cavalry
Cavalry meets cavalry. One thousand lances released on a four hundred
Horrible! Men were carried from horses to horses, lances
Horse were raise up high, neighs turn to roars, lances
Now nine hundred and fifty to sixty, the opposite retreat.
The colonel seeing the sixty running ordered a chase. Fool!
The opposite's Brigadiers laughs, he ordered his brigade
To get ready. After their sixty drove in
The infantry made squares. At their captain's orders.
Salvo's were head, two thousand shots on a nine hundred and fifty.
Sympathetic bullets entered heads and hearts horses tumbled
They caused confusion, de-horse horsemen ran back.
It was only a ninety that penetrated killing a forty
Twenty horsemen retreated with wounds
There was silence, scout men where sent to count losses
My love, my amorous, my dreams in the Journey by
whirlpool of many color buds, la la la la, lay in the
forest of many vines as horse of many colors dance
in dark sky so high, by the wild flowers my rest la la
la lay, the wild spotted white calf, of many horse in
valley of buds in vines all kind for price of a party
by the many moons of different color all kind of
eyes as buds in the temperature under ground
in water all buds now vines and angels dance
like eagle, and fly by the mountains tops sweet
potatoes and potatoes vine now they pay for
the brithday party la la la la lay by the beds and
rest for 4th of July the party you all have paid for
la la la la we we la we la la ya ya la ya, for we
will not farvest all the crop save under ground
for a year for la la la ya we we the party, the
party for I am he is the first and first and first la la la
we we we ya ya we we la la la he is I am he is you may sell or
and keep the money poetry soup to pay for your
service to me, thank you Diane Henning
Wild angel's, in the heart of America, Wild angel, you
make the world sing, Black beauty you ride HI, party
party hardy, party hardy, Wild horse, in the sky, on
the 4th of july, Wild America you make the World
sing of the creator on his brithday, party, party on
down, party, party wild angels party, party hardy,
Wild things, wild black beauty, on 4th of july, on the
4th of july,, Whild things you make the world sing
party, on the party, party hardy get down way down
get funkey, get funkey get down way down lets dance
let dance it isn't the last dance let's get on down.
Wild America, lets dance Black horse Red horse
white horse with wings blue birds in the sky HI
lets party hardy make the world sing happy brithday
you make America sing get on down. please I
don't want any money do what you can
For more than forty years he mustered horses to the yard,
Reminding all the younger blokes “You’ve ‘gotta’ stay on guard,
For even decent broken horses have a spirit that is high,
And the months of lengthy grazing, can make them saddle shy”.
His spoken word was ‘gospel’ to the ringers on the rail,
As they watched the flighty gelding with it’s sinewed body flail,
In a wretched test of strength between a man and bucking horse,
With just a moment lapsing came a death demanding force.
The sickening thud of hoof against the now defenseless skull,
Placed a numbness through the ringers in a seeming timeless lull,
Some rushed toward their mentor, some to keep the horse at bay,
And every face looked grim as they carried him away.
Time can seem eternal when the basic aids are not of use,
A man is hardly breathing and his limbs are falling loose,
When the doctor is still coming from an hour’s flight away,
And the women of the station ask the station men to pray.
Throughout the day the horses wait beneath the bloodwood shade,
And ringers eager in the morn have felt their interest fade,
Their thoughts are feeling for the man upon a homestead bed,
Not knowing if the man’s alive, or if the man is dead.
Their faces gray and gaunt have their vision quite impaired,
As they sought their own direction and in silence quietly stared,
With prayers of understanding (that ringers rarely speak),
The silence and the waiting turned around their other cheek.
The hours passed to falling dusk and still there is no word,
The whinnying of a waiting horse is all that can be heard,
And the tension in the quarters caused a snap toward a bloke,
When the eerie still was broken by… “Has anyone a smoke?”
Through homestead blinds by shadows, steady movement could be seen,
The ringers broke their silence wondering what the movements mean,
They walked across the yard and heard the footsteps on the floor,
And every mind was focused on the opening of the door.
As he came to the crossing the river was swollen out of its banks,
He wouldn’t be on the run right now if he hadn’t met ole Henry Franks.
All he wanted was a few supplies then he had planned on being on his way,
But standing in front of the door stood this bully of a man and he was wanting to play.
Well he wasn’t looking for trouble but he wasn’t going to back down from a fight,
He had ridden too far and he knew this hazing weren’t right.
He asked ole Henry nicely to let him enter the store,
But Henry just laughed and said you ain’t going in through this here door.
Well he tried to squeeze past ole Henry but he just got slung to the ground,
Henry put a boot to his side then on his head he started to pound.
The stranger made it to his feet and enough was enough,
He hit Henry hard and found out real quick ole Henry was tough.
Well they fought for near on an hour when ole Henry grabbed at his chest,
He fell to the ground and the stranger thought maybe he just had to rest.
But his thinking was wrong, ole Henry was dead,
The crowd started hollering he’s murdered ole Henry and started firing off lead.
So on his horse he rode just as fast as he could,
Just one nightmare after another, and it sure weren’t looking too good.
As the mob started closing in he spurred his horse into the raging river,
Quickly washed out of the saddle he grabbed hold of the horses tail in hopes he would deliver.
As he made it to the other side he felt a bullet crease his side,
He made it to cover and knew he could keep them pinned and they would be foolish if they
As night started falling he knew that he was going to be alright.
He just wished he hadn’t met ole Henry and gotten into that fight.
I guess there is no moral to this tale,
Except for the fact that stranger was mighty glad horses had a tail.