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?
Copyright © Marycile Beer
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.
Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill
Yippee Ki Yo
Thank God Another Day
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI
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.
I beg you
Show me the way!
----By Janille James----
Copyright © Janille James
THE DIE IS CAST
“I See,” said a blind man to his deaf Spouse, emphatically
I hear the S-rhetoric She replied Sarcastically
The symptoms and signs of Stagnation
The Syndrome of intermittent Systems and Structures
Signing and later whining or wining
Structural adjustment and subsidies
The insatiable appetite for Sausages and Swine
Speculation and Smart Partnerships Scenarios
Synergies, Song of Science, Strategies, Solutions all Send Shivers down my Spine
Stock exchange and Streamlining just Sentimental
What with Solo driving, Sole proprietorship of Strings of businesses
As the faith of the Servicemen wavers, the Sales are reportedly Staggering
A Slump they call it but there’s Something Sinister
Swing into action to Subjugate these Saboteurs?
My Spirit faints But rejoice oh my Soul
Share the Spoil of the Wicked, Shillings and Swiss Francs or $ollars
If they call this Scathing, what is Stealing?
Smelling, a Stench!
Servant leaders, Surge forward to foil this Sunlight melancholy
For a calm Sea never made a good Swimmer
Study the Science of the Soil and the oil
When funds are Squandered
Guillotine the Small witty cashiers, the sardines
A Sacrifice of sorts, Scape goating and Summary Sentencing
“Where are the big bully Signatories, the Sharks”, a Senior Citizen asks?
Scot free, in Singapore in another Symposium
And who will Sub-due the enemy? Where are the species of valour, women of virtue?
Behold the Son of David, Save us!
Saviour, open your eyes and See, take our Prayer Seriously
With You on our Side we can Salvage the Situation and Scale walls
Copyright © WINFRED SANDE
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)
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw
In that grey, quiet space between night & dawn
While the coyote sings a good morning song
A cowboy rides up to a spot high on the hill
to reflect on his blessings & the bounty of good will
For a hot cup of coffee & warm meals to eat
For the shade of a broad brim hat & the sturdy boots on his feet
For the comfort in the silence just before the rooster crows
Just why he was chosen to be this lucky, only the Creator knows
For this good horse between his knees, sure & steady at a lope
for those fat & sassy cattle & true aim when he ropes
For all his compadres just now stirring for the day
Each one of them in your likeness, so the preachers say
For living each & every day as Cowboy as he can
For unexpected kindness & the basic goodness of a man
The keening of the hawk draws his gaze up toward the sky
And he says another prayer for those who ride in the By & By
Yes, there are surely enough reasons to grump, cuss or shout
But taking stock of all your blessings is what that first morning cup is all about
So thank you once again sir, for giving us this life
May you ride along beside us, in good times & in strife
Copyright © Catherine Devine
I knew his face from a poster,
That said he was wanted by the law,
It had little affect on me,
For I went by what I saw.
Two eyes of blue looked up at me,
So thin they looked like steel,
And a moustache so thick and bushy,
I wasn't sure if it was real.
Out on the plains of Kansas,
It is a hard and fast rule,
That to take in and hide a wanted man,
Are the actions of a fool.
But I'm not known for my reason,
Common sense is my only art,
And it told me I was safe,
Go on and follow my heart.
I took him to the old dugout,
Beside little creek,
Tended to his bullet wounds,
Nursed him while he was weak.
And I kept him there...a secret,
Made him strong and well,
An listened to the stories,
That he began to tell...
Of his life as a farmer,
Becoming a raider after the war,
He'd had a good reason once,
But couldn't remember "why" anymore.
When he tried to walk away,
The band refused to let him go,
They shot him and left him to die,
Where I found him in the cold.
I considered the sins of this man,
Waged them against my own,
Knew that for the right reasons,
My life would have taken a different tone.
And I knew there was no judging,
His past actions, or mine,
For his taking life, and my saving his,
Were both considered a crime.
So I hid him, and I'm not sorry,
For a time he was my own,
He told me once he loved me,
I was the closest he had to a home.
I procured a horse and a rifle,
Once he was mended enough to ride,
And politely refused his offer,
To join him by his side.
My last glimpse was the back of his hat,
As he dropped into the draw,
And I knew I'd not been wrong,
About the things I saw.
Deep inside those steel-blue eyes,
Lay a soul that had changed it's ways,
And his punishment would be in running,
Wanted...for the rest of his days.
And me, I'm still not repentant,
I'd do it all over again,
For sometimes Outlaws ain't evil,
Sometimes they're just men,
Who started out with good intentions,
And no matter what they may be,
The final call to judgement,
Won't come from you or me.
Because all of us are sinners,
By bad luck or circumstance,
And the only way out is common sense,
Prayer and a second chance.
So, pray with me for the Outlaw,
Cheer him on in his second try,
And start your prayer with the words,
"But for the Grace of God, there go I..."
Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill
His fingers traced the cold hard rock of a now silent name,
Of a father he knew, a man he would not. No one to take the blame
His childhood changed a man yet to be, he cried for his loss and pain
Through the silence that followed, he walked away,
He’d never be the same.
He would come calling on the ladies, yet whiskey was his date,
Taking his hand, calling his name she numbed his futures fate
With her, soothing, smooth moving liquid she’d guide him through the night
She left him wanting more of her, to change his life insight.
With a cold ring of glass she called to him beckoning him to follow
He had married a bottle of comfort to fill his heart so hollow.
With every swallow, he would hear her call his name,
He tried to drink her into his soul,
He’d never be the same.
In his sorrow of tomorrow and the day that follows that,
He could only weep and borrow, self pity where he sat,
When on the midnight moon he heard a whisper on the breeze,
The bending of guitar strings, like bending of willow trees.
Caressing, addressing, assessing time itself,
Feeling healing, sealing wounds made on ones self.
He became one with the music and to himself wholeness came
As he learned to pick those guitar strings,
He never was the same.
One night a woman sat before him a whisper on her lips,
On a stage in a place that he played for tips
As she listen to his guitar, his sober fingers played
As he strummed another tune, his eyes upon her laid.
As she smiled up at him now his futures fate untold
Lay with in those days as lifes beauty started to unfold.
A year had passed since she first heard him play
Marriage and a chance to live every day
But when his son was born a prayer of thank came
For he folded his hands and bowed his head
He would never be the same
Copyright © A. Kathy Moss
A Cowboy one day
rode high on a hill
To ask the Lord,
if it be his will,
To send him
strong & gentle
pretty as wildflowers
that bloom every spring
yet strong as the hawk
with the wind ‘neath its wing
Now the Lord heard his prayer
and gave it plenty of thought
then searched throughout heaven
‘til he found the angel he sought
Of denim & lace
her wings were made
‘round her all creatures gathered
He called her to the throne
and laid out his plan
that Cowboy would not be alone
Now together they ride
side by side day & night
Cowboy & his Angel
what a beautiful sight
Copyright © Catherine Devine
after playing ball the contestants make there way to the draw wall.
Felling sore from the ride before. no one knows whats in store.
Justin took quite the fall, carson gets his horse out of her stall.
they check in with the doc. and he suggests they stretch and go for a walk.
as kevin rolls in, no one knows where hes been
Gene is having a really great year, as he celeabrates with yet another beer
wes made the top five, hes starting to feel the vibe.
coch kelly, always clean and proper, was once quite the show stopper
the team sits around the table for lunch, as the pep tlak goes out to the bunch
tonight is the last of the season, as kevin pops a choclate reisen.
some will move on, some will stay, its not the ride its livin for the day
Rodeo is not about being the best, its about your lifes quest
two hours before the show and just going with the flow
wes and carson play with there ropes, as kevin looks for the saddle soap
gene checks his cinch, as justin pulls some snuff and takes a pinch.
kelly is busy shaking hands, as people start to fill the stands.
grand entry rolls in and the energy is felt throughout the pen
the anthem is played and the prayer is sent, who will make the rent
the hosres are loaded and ready to go, with the intry of funny man joe
grand entry has left and the cowboy is set, with the swing from the gate there off
like a jet.
Dreams are made and dreams will fade with every entry fee paid.
gene gets set his eyes are cold and hes destined to have a buckle full of gold
carson wrestles his steer and blows a knee, the crowd rises to see
justin slides up on his rope and feels just right, for hell make the ride of his life
The show is over and the stock is fed we are thankfull noone is dead
reality is set and buckles are handed out, for some this is what their life is about
for some college rodeo has come to an end, but there is an open rodeo around
sad but true this season is over, but not to worry, its just another beginning for
Copyright © Tom Guilliams
With his finger on the trigger
He pulled the hammer down
He waited for the orders
From the Colonel to come around
A small band of soldiers
Who were farmers just before
No emblems on their shoulders
No bright and shining swords
They had joined together
And would fight til the end
At a Mission down in Texas
They knew they must defend
They were well out numbered
A hundred to each one
Reinforcements ordered were on their way
But would never come
Five hundred men strong
Marching on their way
Were slaughtered at Goliad
They could not save the day
They held the enemy back
For three long days and nights
When they heard the word of Goliad
They knew they would lose the fight
They kissed their wives good bye
They sent them through the gates
Then they said prayer to the heavens
For their souls to take
They would not surrender
The courage of these men
At a place they called the Alamo
They would defend until the end
They were completely surrounded
The enemy in red
Then Santa Anna and his men
They raised the flag of death
The cannon fire it began
The battle it raged on
But as each one he lost his life
He knew he died, at home.
Copyright © Bill Simmons
I do not know?
Three eggs in the Ice Box and the hens quit layin yesterday
Low on milk and the milk cow went dry
Don't worry about the windmill being broke, the wind won't blow
Sometimes the river of life can run that way
All we can do is keep on going and wonder why
It is not for us to know
The drought has taken over, our back are against the wall
Seems like we cannot rent a friend
The grass is dead and the cattle need to be fed
Worries and headaches are no longer small
This is stating to look like the end
We just never know what is ahead
Both ends of the candle are burnt and about out of rope
Clouds are rolling across the sky like a empty freight train
Bill collectors are knocking at the door,"can't get blood out of a turnip"
Sometimes there seems like there is no hope
It will quit hurting hen there is no more pain
And two new flat tire on the old pickup
It can get you down if you let it, but there is an easier way out
When you cannot see the forest for the trees
Just remember the old sayin
Even if you are full of doubt
Get off your horse and fall to your knees
Never to late for prayin
Copyright © Danny Nunn