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Cowboy Hope Poems | Cowboy Poems About Hope

These Cowboy Hope poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Hope. These are the best examples of Cowboy Hope poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Cowboy | |

Riding for Independence

We have been riding for ever so long;
Now our search for our freedom seems to be gone.
We only took; of that which we need;
And we had no tricks; hidden there up our sleeve.

For me it began when the banker came round;
And my daddy's ranch; was burned to the ground.
We were all wanted, with a price on our heads;
And we hoped if they found us, we’d fight till we're dead.

We lived life as outlaws, with weapons at hand;
And if time comes for hanging, we'll die like a man.
But we’re not alone, there are others around;
They're not hard to notice, they’re wearing a frown.

So they're building our gallows, nail by nail;
And we think hard about it, here in this jail.
But we made our choices; and then we got caught;
Yet we lived life as free men, never owned never bought.

From the view out the window, it's people I see;
They're tipping their hats; and smiling at me.
We may be convicted, but we're not disgraced;
And you won't see a tear, running down from our face.
.
So they plan to kill us, but our kind will not end;
There's cowboy’s now out there; who'll ride once again.
Me and the boys, we ran out of time;
But there will be others that come down the line.

So To all of you worms; who crawl in the dung;
You'll never stop hearing, the songs that we've sung.
You're hoping to change us, or get rid of us all;
But if we all ride as free men, perhaps you will fall.


Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Verse | |

Where's Home

My grandaddy done went 'n tole me
Son ain't no reason ta gits skeered
Hosses air jist a little bigger
Thin what pets youse had back thar.

Now my Ma 'n Pa got married
'N off to a big town they goes
'N all them yars theys done tole me
I's 'll takes youse back home.

They war always skeered
Never lets me go no whar
Never lets me has no friens er pets
Jist made me stays up stairs.

They done went 'n died
'N lefts me all 'lone
Folks jist went 'n boxed me up
'N sends me back ta my Ma's home.

I never seed my granpa
Don't knows nuthin 'bout no rench
My folks never lets me out
Aint never had no pets.

Now I's fines myself out here with him
'N the first thin he went 'n done
Tooks me ta the barn with him
'N sits me on somethin he calls roan.

I's only six yars ol'
'N it's a long ways down from here
Thin he takes hole of a rope
'N thin I gits really skeered.

I's ain't gots nuthin ta hangs on ta
'N I's slidin side ta side
Than granpa jumps up behine me
'N takes me fer a ride.

He done had his arms round me
I's wasn't skeered then a tall
Fer they was stong 'n warm
I's knowed I wouldn't fall.

That war many yars ago
Now granpa he's done gone
I's still out here on the rench
It'll always be my home.


Details | Cowboy | |

The Waxed Coat Man

In crackled tintypes bent with long ago,
Amid flaxen sunset and skies of cherry—
In worn leather-carved ancient scenario,
He dare not lie in milkweed prairie.

He rides resolute toward that sweat-tinged fame,
Always the heart’s hero of our once young eye,
As pale ivory range sighs softly his name
And we all know the real reason why.

It is high sage country that he will ride,
As that tin sun burns alabaster away—
And new birthed rains roll off his cow rancher hide,
So his soft summer’s mirage will stay.

Some see him crude – of but limited worth—
Lacking pure knowledge or certain savoir-faire—
But born of bone plain, he is of no fool’s birth—
A force of nature that’s always there. 

From coat’s patina past years slide, of course,
As lines are spurred so deep into his Sphinx face—
But he’d rather be poised high atop his horse
In no other country, time or place.

His heritage is long – it’s here he’ll die—
He rides his own land in cruel spring rains and snows—
And like that wax jacket, he’ll keep his hopes dry,
Because ranching is all that he knows.


Details | Lyric | |

Nashville, A Dog Gone Hit,

I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks,

Yea, here in the town called Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
They say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
but I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
though I sure hope it's worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

I've got them on the internet, downloading them is free,
I haven't had any right connections yet, but I'm hoping patiently,
gonna find me country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit, 
like pitching a horseshoe ringer, you know you just can't quit,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where even writers need to be,
no, I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
but I sure hope it's well worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers hope patiently,
Got some songs to pitch the singers, like me, they just can't quit,
like making a horseshoe ringer, knowing one of them could hit,

I've got them at Poetry Soup, where printing them is free,
log on in, enjoy the view, it's finger friendly as can be,
become a welcomed member, without any sort of fee,
no matter what's your gender, or your nationality,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
Gonna find me a country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit,
like throwing a horseshoe ringer, knowing you just can't quit,

Yea, I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks.


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboys and Indians

He pulls his hat down low against the chill of the storm,
The numb fingers that hold the reins forgot what it was like to be warm;

     On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun, 
     Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son; 

The blowing snow and freezing rain steal his breath away,
But he knows that being a cowboy, it’s worth the price that you pay;

     A majestic, bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze, 
     With arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease! 

A worn out calf is stretched across his lap on either side,
Her head resting on his thigh just going along for the ride;

     He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation, 
     And for the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration;

Her momma just like him had been caught out in the gale,
It’s just another story to add to the cowboy’s tale;

     He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow, 
     That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo;

His face is hard and beaten from too many days in the sun,
From early mornings and late nights workin’ til a job is done;

     A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land, 
     The broken treaties and those who dealt with deceitful hand; 

But being a working cowboy surely has its rewards,
Riding forgotten country that has never been explored.

     With a sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away, 
     Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will not stray. 

By Tirzah Conway and Bob Hinshaw

The cowboy portion was written by Tirzah Conway and the Indian portion was written by Bob Hinshaw
   
     




Details | Blank verse | |

PAYDAY

PAYDAY

Out of the chute and in the air
Don't turn your head and run away
I really do need a big payday
Shoes for the kids and tires for the truck
Today has got to be the day

Around the horns and on the ground
The flag is down
Is it enough?
I look up and hear the  time
Steak for all and new Goodyears all around!

But next week is Amarillo


Details | Lyric | |

Please Help Me, Re-lyric

Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.
You're just so damn sexy,
That's why I'm hittin' on you.
You don't have to love me,
Some good sex will do.
Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.

Yes, you turned me on
When I saw you walk in...
The face of an Angel,
A body just made for Sin.
Now, I may be real horny,
But one thing is true:
What would satisfy me, Girl
Would be to satisfy You.

So please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You; 
And I hope that you're fallin'
In Lust with me too;
But if not, then please fake it,
Please don't leave me "blue"...
Please help me, I've fallen
In  Lust  with  You.


Details | Senryu | |

Tombstone - Like The Four Horsemen

they walked along
weathered, carrying their guns;
like the four horsemen…

down to the O.K.
guns blazing, bullets flying;
smoke clears, the strong stand…


Details | Cowboy | |

The Cowboy

The legacy of a Cowboy,
Can be written in a song;
About the misty mountain passes,
Where the Cowboy’s life belongs;

About the days spent in the saddle,
Punching cattle and mending fence;
At home with mother nature,
Living life in his defense;

All the nights spent under stars,
With the campfire burning low;
Riding range on shifty heifers,
In the rain and blowing snow;

Icicles hang from his mustache,
As he pulls his coat in tight;
Steam rolls off his horse’s flanks,
Disappearing into the night;

He works until the job is done,
And is up long before dawn;
See the legacy of a Cowboy,
Lives on long after he‘s gone.


Details | Quatrain | |

THE AMERICAN WESTWARD EXPANSION

The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.


Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace. 


And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure, 
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.


Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.


Details | Rhyme | |

My Greatest Gift

When I received the greatest gift,
Was Christmas when I was ten;
That present gives my soul a lift,
When I think of it now and then;

I didn’t see a box with my name,
When I searched under the tree;
 I thought my parents were playing a game,
And had hidden it from me;

I waited oh so patiently,
For my gift on Christmas Day;
And when mom put a blindfold on me,
I didn’t know quite what to say;

She marched me out the front door,
And held my hand so tight;
Just when I thought I could take no more,
I saw that glorious sight;

My dad was holding the reins,
To a horse with a big red bow;
He had ribbons tied in his mane, 
With a coat that seemed to glow;

I burst out into happy tears,
As I reached out to touch his face;
It’s a moment I’ve remembered for many years,
No other could take it’s place;

My greatest gift was “Lucky”,
My horse so tried and true;
And I hope you’ll be as lucky,
To have a gift like that for you!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Prayer

Lord, help me to understand you more and more.
Help me to appreciate the gifts of life as I explore.
So many times I've put doing my will about yours.
Please turn my heart towards your forever love.

Lord, help me to live the way you ask me to love.
And to love the way you ask me to live.
Dear God, I pray to you on my bended knees.

Hear my cry.
My urgent need for you.
Let me see you in all things.
Give me life anew.

Teach me to listen.
Teach me to be kind.
Lord, strengthen me that I might find.
The road that leads me closer to you everyday.
Please Lord, 
I beg you
Show me the way!

----By Janille James----


Details | Rhyme | |

Hope life is as sweet for ya'll

Country girls are a special breed
Their love is straight from the honeycomb
The simple life is all they need
For love is the heart of their home

Sacrifice resides in their DNA
Their work is never done
Tender hearted is the country way
But so is shooting a gun!

Her horse her boots
And those painted on jeans
Are staples in a country girls life
Like her garden growing lusciously green

A day in the dirt smudged on her nose
Simple beauty from her head to her toes
Cut off shorts and white cotton top
Brings a country boys world to a stop

Fields of daisies brighten her day
Content with her neighbor miles away
Her Hilton is a musty barn full of hay
In the arms of her man where she lays

Stealing kisses 
That taste of sweet tea
Cowboy hats and Dusters 
Make her man look heavenly

The spurs the blood
Eight seconds of glory
All the dust and mud
In love with a rodeo story

A country girl dances alone
Yet together all in a line
Sisters shaking hips making a scene
Till her man arrives and twirls her 
Where dancing with class reigns supreme 

Sunday drive on a pretty back road
In a jacked up truck snuggled close
Country music and a six pack of beer
Simple pleasures the country life knows

Yes indeed we're a special breed
The country life ain't for all
But it's the only life for me it seems
Hope life is as sweet for ya'll <3
























Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboy Legacy

There’s a legacy inside him,
As he sits upon his steed;
His heart is filled with honesty,
Not perjury or greed;

He rides the same old range,
That his father rode before;
And it’s been that way for forever,
A hundred years or more;

Pushin’ cattle, brandin’ calves,
That is a cowboy’s life;
Someday he may settle down,
And make some girl his wife;

He’s spent so many lonely nights,
Sleeping under the stars,
He hasn’t got a tattoo,
What he has are battle scars;

There’s a rip across his stomach,
From a rangy longhorn steer;
And even though it hurt like hell,
He never shed a tear;

He always outs on a brave face,
Emotions locked inside;
And for his cowboy heritage,
He feels only pride.


Details | Rhyme | |

Not For Naught

What you do here, is your job, life, future and health.
Without each one of these, there will be no wealth.
Apply and learn each day that you live and breathe.
Give your all in whatever you do, protect with a sheave.
Don’t ever think, what you do, is just a plain job.
If you let this happen, it is your soul, spirit you rob.
What you do makes a difference, in someone’s life.
What mistakes you make, causes someone strife.
So take a new look, at what you do, every day for pay.
Take pride, take revelation look, and see life’s display.
Give thanks for all the work you do, with praise or not.
For without you and what you do, everything is for naught.


Details | Cowboy | |

Untitled

Tainted love 
or tired love?
Smug attitudes
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
NOT EVER!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!


Details | Couplet | |

A Cowboy Is

He’s tender and caring in his own way,
From moving cattle to bucking hay;

He’s stubborn but gentle and hard as nails,
As he deals with all that his job entails;

He may seem distant but he’s filled with pride;
From the cattle he tends to the horse that he rides;

He’s defender of the small and weak,
And protector of the sick and meek;

He keeps the code of the cowboy way,
Standing steadfast from day to day;

Watching over and protecting from harm,
All of the beings that reside on his farm;

He’s sometimes reserved and far-away,
And he never really has too much to say;

Laugh lines cover his weathered face,
Something even time can’t erase;

He is a cowboy, born and bred,
From the boots on his feet to the hat on his head.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Cowpokes Prayer

Lord, I ain't good at prayin', I hope You'll fergive me fer that,
But I need to pause by this Colorady spruce fer a little chat.
It's been a very tryin' day a-herdin' dogies an' fixin' fences,
So please lend Yer ear whilst I unwind an' enjoy Yer vast expanses.

Lord, it's been mighty hot an' dusty on th' lonely trail today;
Sometimes I wonder why I cowboy - it shore ain't fer the pay.
But I love Yer wide-open ranges, fer me that's my compensation.
I'll never cease to wonder at th' grandeur uv Yer Creation!

Lord, help me to allus take plenty uv time to look an' ponder,
At th' majesty uv that snow-capped mountain range over yonder.
May I allus savor th' smell uv sagebrush an' fragrant pine,
An' th' sunsets that You paint jes' fer me that are so divine.

You know I git irate a-herdin' them wily cows and steers,
An' I git to cussin' which is so displeasin' to Yer ears.
Yer within Yer rights to brand me th' worst sinner on th' earth,
But, Lord, I'm a-tryin' to do my best to live a life uv worth.

Lord, I'm a-thankin' Ye fer th' good an' faithful hoss I ride,
Even fer Cooky's chuck uv beans an' bacon that I must abide.
I can't thank Ye enough for Yer forgiveness an' faithful love;
I hope You'll see fit to brand me fer Yer heavenly corral above!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)


Details | Cowboy | |

Georgia I'm Coming Home

I am sitting in this bus station, waiting to go home 
Oh Georgia its been a long, long time and I feel so all alone 
I want to feel the crisp morning wind, whispering through the pines 
Down by the river in a special spot, I called all mine 

Hey Nashville Oh Nashville you never played my songs 
And put my songs on the bottom of the pile of no play ones 
Nashville I Guess you had a lot of fun proving this Georgia boy wrong 
Hey Nashville, Oh Nashville you never played my songs 

I was a struggling song writer and not good enough for Nashville’s 
newest scene 
16th avenue was not what I figured, but I thought I met their every need 
But it just wasn’t  good enough, so I picked up my guitar left I got out 
Now out of money and with plenty of time just sitting waiting for that bus 

With no regrets and no bad feelings about the chances that I took 
I made a lot of friends, the nightlife was fun and the parties really shook 
But my heart does ache and I my pockets are empty with a big hole in 
my boots 
Now I am going down to my country home and get back  my roots 

Hey Nashville, Oh Nashville you never played my songs
Guess they got on the bottom of a pile of no play songs
Nashville I guess you had a lot of fun proving this Georgia boy wrong
Hey Nashville, Oh Nashville, You never played my song


Details | Didactic | |

Blind By Mod

Modernisation is hopping her repercussion
 Modernisation is driving her civilisation
 This is the safari; that brain the colony
 The colossal obnoxious tenets of the West
 Calling her to the deluding evacuation.

 The edifice her architect had strictly structured
 Who can dare to alter it?
 Even on her own body and soul.

 Variety upon variety, she want to put on
 That is her whisper why, she mime the day.
 A Bimbo! Mimicking the mockery of the West.

 Who is barbaric in this case?
 Reason! She revolt the reasoning
 Focus! She resist the purpose
 Loyal! She refuse the modesty.

 Let her believe this one
 That in her friction state
 Her forward (will) never; her backward (will) ever.

 Perhaps, she should recall this one
 She need to behold
 If she must to recount, in her world.


Details | Haiku | |

'Yellow Rose of Texas' (Haiku # 14)

‘ Yellow Rose of Texas ’ Haiku  # 14

         A Lone Star Shone On
         A Yellow Rose of Texas
         and Bluebonnets Grown


Details | Cowboy | |

saline through time-

social dishonesty, 
in a word, 
in a moment, 
without reason or hope, 
saline through time… 

  


Details | I do not know? | |

Drowning

drowning...

Screaming silently for that one breath

of life...

that whirling maelstrom of beaten-down loss upon wrap-around defeat

of life...

that mercilessly shovels heaps of leaden rubble as you try to get back on your feet

drowning...

mute and dumbly flailing in the raging torrent

of being...

but a mere speck of dirt on the tapestry of a world, that at times, is quite abhorrent

drowning...

quietly wishing to surrender to the nothingness that seductively beckons, as you gasp

while...

hoping against all hope that a lifeline would appear suddenly within your grasp

drowning...

yet caught in the ghastly waters of unchartered isolation

feeling...

a trickle of hope amidst the gushing liquid of sheer desolation

drowning...

whilst holding on to slivers of sanity when blistering madness calls out to you

as...

faltering weaknesses snap and gnaw at your state of being, out of the pristine clear blue

drowning...

i have felt the pull of life's devious current as it has stripped me of my self and left me naked and bare

and still...

i fight with every suffocating breath left within

to surface and to cling onto

another gulp of life's coarse and putrid air...


Details | Free verse | |

Sin

Anguish taunts through a barbed wire fence with edged grasp

Actions in which human beings rebel against a holy God
Miss their purpose for their lives
Surrender to the prince of the power of the air more then God
Cause  all of their deeds were evil!

Shattered
An eclipse of the sun had tainted my inner vision
Push back the pain with radiant guide
Does this notion in thought come at any big surprise?

Weak willed tyrants from the flood of dispinsation
Shattered fragments loosed in gloom climatic abrasion
Parts unknown from the setting of the sun
Sin

Leading gullible women captive under the false cloak of compromise
Abortion on demand
When will they ever understand?

Blood shed in our streets
Evil tyrants from elected officials overly prideful taunt & pull!
We each our responsible for our actions before a holy God
Sin!


Details | Englyn | |

PHLOWERY PHOOLS

         FLOWERY FOOLS

I totally take gardenias for granted
As do I the petulant petunias someone planted
I neither bless nor bow to any bouquet
Nor any overused flowery cliché
I walk by the willows and never weep
And I wish morning glories wouldst, all day, simply stay asleep
No oak is okay with me
And may the graves of those gardenias soon come to be

The rain gives the garden sustenance as does a sunny sky
While I stroll by a stand of birch and wish they all would die
I care not to see a rose arise 
But pray the buds bid all goodbyes
I don’t give a damn when a forest is on fire
And I’m telling all you fools someone’s a f*****g liar
For me there is nothing as fabulous as the forest aflame
And the spark t’was Mother Nature, do curse I her name
             ©  2011.…..Phreepoetree   ~free cee!~ 


Details | Free verse | |

The art Of Spring

Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by

Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul

Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory

Fresh water arises with the scent 
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all

The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist

He


Details | Cowboy | |

Facing the Change

I wake-up missing you
Last 10-10-07 feels like a dream
But it is so true
I cry until i cant cry anymore
Daddy God has finally open His door
We had you 
But we had to let you go
No more pain
No more sorrow
Oneday we will learn to understand 
You completed your journey
A boy to a man
A wife and a family
finally you can sleep
im still crying out but i know your soul is at peace.


Details | Rhyme | |

We Are Nothing WITHOUT Christ



Without Christ... We Are Nothing! You think you have everything... "Don't need" anything more. God says; "You are wretched, blind, miserable and poor." Are you content? There's nothing "you don't need?" Is your life filled with self-righteousness and greed? Jesus stands at your heart's door... Waiting to come in. But is the "uninvited guest," once again. Do you have a form of Godliness, but deny the power thereof? Proclaiming to be a Christ' follower, but void of his love? Are you committed to a fancy building and bright chandeliers? For the lost souls... Do you shed any tears? It's time to fall in love with Jesus and his precious word too. He's here right now... Waiting for you! Only you can make the right choice. It's your decision. You're spiritual life will die... If serving Jesus is not your mission... By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

The saga of the dusty road

The Saga of dusty roads of Utah 
(To the memory of Don W. Esplin, father of Kathryn Esplin-Oleski)
= =
There he was playing with some mild explosives, 
in his own backyard, a resolute boy he is; 
the June month had swelled like the taut belly of 
a neighborhood lady; the boy wanted to be 
a scientist which he became. He, of course could not 
envision that all these sepia dust of Utah, 
the noon backyard and a young scientist’s narrative 
would be remembered by his explosive daughter 
and a strange Indian was going to pen a saga. 

Alfred Nobel was smiling from a page of a book 

The boy rolled a cigarette, the smoke’s curlicues 
swirl up to grain the picture. A blast almost choked
the bright blue jays and robins. Defused sun slanted.
The end of the road was just an end of the road 
where sun could meet earth, warm grass shook off the heat 
and the covert window of the farm house would yield 
a father and son talk. Strong argument on
future, on an university, on money 
on a world that could differ in generations;
of course the boy, as a father, understood 
his girl, then living apart. But distance is in heart.
He would grow up midst dreams. A quirky wind would blow him 
here and there; navy, marriage and science, 
pharmacology and marriage again; a gust
of wind would take him on a ride that, if he could 
read this he would have said, resembled his truck rides 
down the roads of Utah. But at that point of time
he was wide awake inside his misty night’s sleep 
and an American novel is shooting up 
its multiple heads in search of fresh oxygen. 
The waves of moon were enjoying a full tide.

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