The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.
Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.
This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.
The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.
A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.
Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.
The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.
At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.
I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.
The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.
One day I was passing time
And wrote these words upon the lines,
I know not where they came you see
The Winds of Time were there for me.
If I could open a door to the past
And there before me were the paths
I'm not quite sure which I would choose
But The Winds of Time would see me through.
The vastness there before God's Hand
Then came the heavens, the seas, the land
Eden, Noah and the Christ Child's birth
Is the path that I see first.
I'm not into Knights or dragon days,
Nor Robin Hood and his saving ways,
But give me a Viking as he crosses the seas
And I'll dream of the lands so wild and free.
The music of Irland calls to me,
Where Kathleen's heart has ever been,
And for Danny Boy the fifes do call
I'll shed my tears lest he should fall.
As Immigrants touched upon our shores
The Indians prepared to fight once more,
But fate stepped in and eased the sore
They'd live in peace forever more.
The battles fought upon this land
To protect us from Tierney's hand,
The Civil War for Freedom's right
The Alamo where comrades died.
At Little Big Horn where our soldiers died,
As Indians defend their homes with pride,
The government later took a hand
And put them on Reservation land.
I remember well, when I was quite young
The days of World War II
And how my father's life did change
When the family business he assumed.
Twenty-four seven was unheard of then,
But that was their working day,
They helped keep our nations trucks on the road
Their battlefield was here in the USA.
I'll choose the path with pastures green,
Horses, cattle and the cowboy scene,
This is the land of my mother's birth
The most precious land to me on earth.
I chose this land and took a stand,
Married a cowboy and we ranched the land.
Though now retired and family gone
This land will always be our home.
The Winds of Time, know well my soul
I'll rest at night with days of yore.
And as I wake a prayer I'll say
Please God, may we have Peace today?
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
son what you going to do
with your life
now that you have
no money job
he said papa
I'm going to
leave this town
join up with the rodeo
and break them bulls down
Maybe even rope
me a stallion or
even a clown
Son you better
for theres no money
for bull riders
thrown to the ground
or being stepped on
by a horse or bull
weighing over eight hundred pounds
Papa I promise
Ill make you proud
of your rodeo cowboy when I'm done
not to be thrown or bucked off
to the ground
So papa please come
visit when our show's
for I'll be
the one riding high on
the biggest bull that's found
hanging on for just
eight seconds while I'm
listening for that bells sound
just kicking those sides
of horses and bulls
jumping up and down
with coming out your
top rodeo champion and
bull rider found
The Rodeo Cowboys
my heroes have alway's been cowboys
so giddyup go
my ghost riders in the sky
let that whiskey river
flow through luckenback texas
for I'm a rhinestone cowboy
just a coca cola cowboy
headed for El Paso
strumming my teddy bear song
cross the brazos at wacco
at the 'Y' all come back saloon
just waiting for Poncho and Lefty
bringing that white lightning
wild horses and that burning ring of fire
stays gentle on my mind
for all my rowdy friends have settled down
And it wasn't God who made honkey tonk angels
it was the daydreams about night things
So mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
For I'll go to my grave lovin you
Tribute To Country's Best
The Lonesome Cowboy
Also Trying a new gig lol
A thousand times I have heard,
“There but for the Grace of God...”
but until today that phrase,
struck me as somewhat odd.
The old Cowboy who staggered by,
was three sheets to the wind.
but he swept off his hat before me,
and at the waist did bend.
“Fair Lady, how goes your day?”,
he asked as he deeply bowed,
his face was flush, but his manner gentile,
and he spoke clearly, though not loud.
The politeness of his question,
had completely caught me off guard.
I looked into his wind-burned face,
and saw a look that was not hard.
“My day goes well, and thank you sir.”
was my own courteous reply.
As I gave a small curtsy and a smile,
I saw a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh surely, Lovely Lady,
you have truly made my day.”
He put on his hat, caught his bearings,
and sauntered on his way.
No one else along the street,
looked directly at him or spoke.
Some looked away, while others laughed,
and and made him the point of their joke.
I alone had been blessed,
only I knew what lay inside,
for it had been revealed to me,
what rumpled clothes and liquor hide.
I had seen a gentleman,
a Cowboy tried and true,
with manners most becoming,
a Real Man, through and through.
I was allowed to look past the fact,
that he was poorly dressed and shod,
I had seen the inside of a Heart,
and the Grace placed there by God.
< she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
when they get together
they join hand and hand
for loves be glory
in this fairy tales story
for she's a hard headed women
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft hearted man
though shes stubborn as an mule
but can make that man still drool
as he's so shy
but captured her roving eye
for she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft hearted man
now don't you just think
romance can start out as a wink
even if it may be a little lie
come on little boy now give it a try
for she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft harded man
Country Western Song LOL
Watch those buckaroos lose their insides when saddled to a wild one untied it’s fer a sight when they ride . Yiddy –up was the wail when a bull of a devil left his trail some kinda fight on the road to hell.
No wonder I headed for Whiskey Row with some forty drinks down below sure is thunder in your hole will rock your soul as you face the mighty cold.
Strums my guitar and softly singing as the cowboys are around the camp fire ringing as the fire is blazinin another day is hazing. Got the notion for prayin as another cowboy was payin and he was sayin
Lord ya know the deeds I’ve done and in the shadows I have hung I just wanted to be thankful for meeting me on this fateful day and in thy range I will forever stay.
The Farmer woke,
Before break of day,
And for a little rain did pray.
Then hitched his team,
And plowed the land,
Given him by the Master’s hand.
The Cowboy awoke,
And a prayer he sighed,
“Please give us rain, for the prairie is dry.”
Then in the heat,
He did rope and brand,
The cattle given him by the Master’s hand.
At night, before sleep,
The Farmer read,
The words from the Bible that God had said,
“If you’ll keep my Commandments,
In it’s season I’ll make it rain,
And you shall eat,
And your land shall fill with grain.”
The Cowboy fell asleep remembering,
A verse his Ma had read,
A promise God made and the words he said,
“Love and serve the Lord God,
And it shall come to pass,
That I shall make it rain,
And for the cattle, there shall be grass.”
So each resolved, in his own way,
To be a better man,
And follow closely the Commandments,
And there-fore save the land.
And though they never met,
They prayed for the same thing,
And watched the sky for the clouds,
And the rain that they would bring.
And though it was long in coming,
The drops fell upon the land,
And revived and refreshed these special places,
Given by the Master’s hand.
The Farmer and the Cowboy,
Each prayed for the land of which they were fond,
And through their belief, they saved the Earth,
Through the Lord’s Common Bond.
< beneath swollen ..... moon
in pasture of...... rolling hills
standing ....hind quarters
a beautiful black ...... stallion
simply took my breath ........ away
A Memory Of Beauty
A lone rider sits high in the saddle,
As the horizon's sunrise spreads across,
The open prairie.
Twin pearl handed pistols rest at his side,
As rusty spires clang against wooden planks,
At the deadwood saloon.
Legends cowboys whisper his name,
On the dry desert winds,
A giant of a man whom breathed
Life again into the legacy,
Of the old west.
His side swagger's walk trademark
On the larger than a life screen.
The duke truly represents the great
American hero on horse back.
Six shooters drawn at high noon's
John Wayne's the trail dusts equalizer,
He always remained on the right side,
Of tin stars law.
The tumble weeds rolls along a dirt path,
As tall cactus stand on an arried canvas,
Life here is harsh and mean,
Where only the strong survive.
Bold individuals with the inner
Strength against god's forbidden land.
Harden men whom lived by one simple,
Rule I will do what ever it takes
To stay alive.
He'll join the ghost riders,
Forever driving the lords herds
Across the grand divides vast
Prairie sky’s as the sunsets
In the old west.
Alone figure rides high in saddle,
Set against a legends back drop,
Hell bound for glory,
In a cloud of gun smokes fog,
Behold the duke emerges,
With his hat on straight
And gun at the ready.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Oh lord hear the lonesome cowboys lullaby, singing beneath
The vast prairie open sky.
Hush, do they not lull the restless cattle to sleep, by a soft
Undertones sweet melody.
Drifting plains men, singing of the sorrows broken hearted,
And dreaming visions of their beloved, they've left behind.
Guitar strumming minstrels, of the fire hearth, accented
By the lone harmonica, playing off in the distance
Amongst a sea of cows, and horses.
In harmonic rhythm is this grassroots orchestra, as the fiddler
Strikes up his bow to join in, and playing ever so gently along,
To harmony's rhythm.
On the rocky cliffs mixed in the sandy dunes, the heckling
Coyotes, give an eerie ambiance, to this old western chorus.
Do these desert whyly creatures, howl in perfections tune,
To the wrangler's musical beat, of these wide grassy expanses,
That they all call home.
The rattler shakes it's tail in defiance, against the munching
Prairie dog, whom got away at the last moment.
Listen closely to the sounds of the meadow-lands, does not the crickets,
And locusts, add a natural flavor by their clicking and chirping.
Near the rivers stream, as the winds do blow, along the waters edge,
Another elements assent, is bestowed by the forcing of the reeds, to
Bend hitting them against the hollow log, causing a thumping's,
Drumming, to this uniquest of bands.
As twilight's distant starlight, flickering in the vast
Blackness above, these rambling souls whom wander so.
Down these dusty trails long journey, yearn for nothing
More than to know the quite serenity, of their home
That seems so far away.
Let your music fill your emptiness, for one nights
Beautiful dream, and remember the memory as if it
Were real, a vivid vision of illusion, and rest
In complete bliss, good night my young
Cowboy of the open sky.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
< our top story tonight is Lawyers
a pain in the ass and real spoilers
with fancy cars homes suits
fifteen hundred kaboot
rather hire cowboy wearing just spurs
Entry For Carolyn Devonshire's
Lawyer Limerick's Contest
If you'd have lived and worked on Juno Ranch, you’d have come away better for it. It
may not have seemed like it at the time but Pancho (Uncle Frank) would put it to you, an’ it
was for you to decide to do it, what to do with it, or to fight. The motto was, “You either work
or fight, there ain’t no quittin’ on this-here ranch.”
Pancho cultivated a reputation as a living legend in his fifty-some years in the Devil’s
River country of the Texas frontier. He loved his life, family, work and felt plumb lucky to be
livin’ it. He believed there was art in every undertakin’ an’ practiced the highest standards in
dealin’ with any an’ all comers. He savvied horses, cattle an’ the land; and death was just the
gate that opened into higher pastures.
Ride 'em Pancho!
The cowboy wakes before each dawn
With blurry eyes n'a mournful yawn;
Gets breakfast down, just bacon'n eggs,
An' biscuits dunked in coffee dregs.
He feeds the stock some oats an' hay
In growin' light of break o' day.
Then Pancho comes an' rigs a hoss,
An' chews his butt, 'cause he's the boss.
“The sun is up, you little bride!
We're loosin' light! We gotta ride!”
So they ride out to make their rounds
In echoed clops of hoof-beat sounds.
The sun is high 'bout half-passed noon,
An' dinnertime is none too soon.
He eats his beans an' taters fast,
Then rolls a smoke an' rests at last.
He dreams of how he'll spend his pay
When he's in town on Saturday,
An' where he'll go to have some fun
With gals who'll laugh and call him, "Hun..."
He gets his hat an' pulls it down,
Forgets the dream of gals in town,
Cause if he ain't just damn near dead,
The work comes first on Pancho's spread.
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW." (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really,
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one...
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Your love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and i'm
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried
by the dove of someone I use to know.
< Now hold on there Tex !
Let me get dressed !
Let me saddle up my horse
To trollop around this Halloween course
Got on my chaps
My spurs and cowboy hat
Replica's of forty five's
Riding on my hips very high
With lasso in my hand
This little cowboy has a plan
So all you ghost and goblins
It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing
And I'll be taking loot for mummy
And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy
Happy Halloween To All
Especially little tikes who are so cute and small
Halloween Costume Contest
< once there was a man named trader Joe
could do nothing with hair so let grow
under big coonskin hat
fleas tick and his pet rat
mercantile's just say Oh Hell No
once there was saloon name lucky spur
where traders brought in their hunted furs
in walks old trader Joe
miss Molly said let's go
now both itch scratch from leftover burrs
A great storm came and your world was left in the dark,
You tried your best but you failed to leave a mark!
You stepped that thorn
Now your heart is torn...
You're questioning why you were born!
Just remember, the sun will shine again!
Dont let your teardrops fall like rain!
Stay strong, avoid the growing pain.
Those dark clouds will eventually move on
Soon that pain will finally be gone.
Its not a promise
Thats just the way it is-
Tough times dont last forever
Tough people never say never!
That heartache will soon go away
All you need is to constantly pray
And hope for a better day
Because soon, and very soon, the sun will shine again!
Faith must reside in you
For some days the sky will be blue
And others the sky will be dark!
Those times When the sun may fail to shine through
Always find strength inside of you to hold on to!
So when you're hanging in there in the dark-
Wait in faith for that spark,
For its obvious, the sun will shine again!
In 1957 I took my teaching certificate back to the land of my mother.
She was raised on a cattle ranch in the north central area of Nebraska. The
famous Sand Hills. It was there I found my cowboy and we ranched for fourteen
years on the eastern edge of the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. The
teacher in this story is my mother's sister and our experiences at the Indian
Government School of Spring Creek during my early years.
In the year 2002 Cowboy and I moved to a very special town, Harper,
Kansas. This town is just a few miles down the road from the memories of my
Kansas childhood. How lucky to be able to have all of these memories and with
the help of God maybe another dozen or so years down the road I'll have another
set of memories to pass on to another generation.
Yesterday I was sitting at my computer working when I looked out of
my magic window
and noticed the swing set. The wind was fiercely blowing up a gale and the
swings were rocking to and fro. That didn't bother me, but when I saw the glider
was in motion, I didn't even have to close my eyes to picture the children playing
on it. They weren't my grandchildren. They weren't my children. They weren't any
children I could recognize, but I felt blessed. I didn't care who they were, they
And then I thought back. Back to the reservation. I could hear the
laughter of the Indian children, but whenever we came into view they would run to
hide behind their mothers or grandmothers and peek around at us. Some of the
older ones, seven, eight, nine or ten year olds would line up in front of the shack
or tent to stare at us.
I can still see them dressed in faded, wrinkled, soiled clothing.
Disgards from who knows where that ended up at the mission. Their large
round brown eyes staring from behind the greasy scraggly black hair. Some with
their dirty fingers stuffed in their mouths. The little ones clinging desperately to
the skirt as they peered around at us, always had snout trailing from their nose,
and their feet were either bare or encased in shoes three sizes to large for them.
I don't know if it was a tradition of some kind but it seems, in my
memory, there were never any men. Only women and children came forth. I
have my ideas where the men were but I shall not go into that here.
Tears - Are As Old
… As East Of Eden
Pain - Is As Old
… As East Of Eden
Woes - Are As Old
… As East Of Eden …
That’s Why The Cowboy … Rides West
And Disappears, Into The Flaming Sunsets … ( Gen. 3: 23, 24 )
Upon the flushing milieu of twilight,
Vague shadows of the ranch hands brook.
A proud slow march on hackneyed legs,
In the slow emergence of autumn’s dusk.
Today’s sullied labor grimes the worn denim chaps,
In the dawn to dusk harvest of the seasons haying.
An aching exhaustion on sweat muddied faces,
The price and the pride of the old rancher’s toils.
Barns piled high from the summers green fields,
The homestead prepares for the silver of winter.
Lost in the muted glow of sunset’s backdrop,
The prairie echoes thanks with a soft cowboy song.
He must sit back and just smile at sunsets;
The colors and quiet must give him great joy—
As do the sweet sage and morning violets;
God must be a cowboy.
He breathes life in the wind on the prairie
And sustains the green earth with the soft rain;
And he grows all the fish in the vast sea;
It is an unbroken chain.
Oh, you can hear him creak that old saddle
As he rounds up the skies and the whole earth range;
His eyes are on us and he’s not idle.
The only constant is change.
Yes, He rides beside us in gold grasses
And He watches our bedroll every night;
He helps us over all the high passes
And teaches us to do right.
And meekly we speak of Him by His name
As we take great pains to please and not annoy;
Knowing when we ride off back where we came:
God must be a cowboy.
< O ye how the west has gone won
now wipe those trails of tears my son
dance the ring of fire for fun
speak and learn native ways
learn not to speak with riffles gun
rustle bacon beans Hey !
Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11
Entry For Dr Ram's
Rime Couee's Contest
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.
May your cattle drives be short ones,
May worries be small and far—
May you find peace at life’s railhead
And at long last rope your star.
May you gather kin ‘round campfires
And give thanks to God on high—
May you feast and relish friendships
Before that round-up in the sky.
IF YOUR VERY VERY QUIET
AND VERY VERY STILL
YOU CAN HEAR HIM TALKING
AND KNOW THAT HE IS REAL
WHISPERING THROUGH THE TREES
AND THE SONGS OF THE BIRDS
CHIRPING OF THE CRICKETS
MOVEMENT OF THE HERD
THE RUSTLING OF GRASS
SOFTLY PUSHED ASIDE
BY FEET STEPPING QUIETLY
PAUSING WHILE IN STRIDE
A MARE SOFTLY COAXING
A PRECIOUS NEWBORN FOAL
THE CREATION OF LIFE
WARMS YOU TO YOUR SOUL
IF YOU LISTEN YOU CAN HEAR
YOUR HEART SLOWLY BEATING
COUNTING OUT THE SECONDS
OF YOUR SHORT LIFE FLEETING
JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES AND LISTEN
TO ALL THE THINGS YOU MISS
WORRYING ABOUT DAY TO DAY
TOO LONG IS YOUR LIST
LISTEN TO WHAT IS IMPORTANT
LIFE GOES ON ALL AROUND
THINK NOW WHAT YOU’RE HEARING
AND THE TREASURES YOU FOUND
SO IF YOU’RE VERY VERY QUIET
AND VERY VERY STILL
YOU’LL KNOW WHO IS TALKING
AND KNOW THAT GOD IS REAL
Thy brother, strong, straight and true,
to the core, his blood flows, fast and through.
I love him dearly, ever since his birth,
what an incredible gift from mother Earth.
Mad as a cut snake, I'd hate to cross.
You did? You C@#T! Ha Ha, your loss.
Boxer and Biker, to the very core,
F@#$%n crazy Outlaw.
His heart is enormous, as big as Ayres Rock,
the man is solid, no muppet could knock.
I love him to death,
till my last rattle of breath.
Not long now to go,
I will see him in time,
my brother, my brother,
dear friend of mine.
Take me there
I don't care
Touch my hair
Eat this pear!!!
I am bare
Want to share?
Do you care?
I am bear
I'll let you stare
Don't go there
By the chair
Or on that stair?
Your skin is fair
You look like Cher
Come to my lair
But pay my fare
Drippity drip drip