I left my
of wonder and
awe. A place that
knows me better
than any other place
I’ve been. This place
has changed me and
molded me into the
person I am now.
The forests, trees, creeks,
and open skies instilled in
me a love for God’s works.
The harshness of the winters has
taught me to be patient and to endure. My small
town is where I learned the small-town work ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn and earning what
you want takes a little bit of sweat and tears. Here
I learned that you don’t have to be blood to be
family. Brothers and sisters are made throughout
years of school together. We relied on each other to
be happy. This place will forever hold my heart and
soul. I am a small town girl through and through.
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for shaping me into something more than I was.
Copyright © Samantha Farr | Year Posted 2013
Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West.
Copyright © Dylan Catalano | Year Posted 2012
White socks, flood pants and
Low-quarter black shoes?
Ya freakin' moron;
Whaddya think this is,
But we'll be far more nostalgic
For Buddy Holly in 2007
Than we are here and now
In the long-hair days of 1967.
As there's really no cure
For brain damage,
You'll still be as clueless
In that faraway futuristic
World as you are today.
Take heart, though,
my sartorially inept amigo;
When that glorious epoch arrives
You'll be indistinguishable from
All the rest of those rag-picking dorks.
Copyright © Roderick Molasar | Year Posted 2015
He was to be for my daddy, they'd said
as they scooped him up from the pick up bed
He was speckled & flop eared & soft as a sigh
My Daddy knew he had lost by the look in my eye
With his masked bandit eyes, only one name seemed right
Thus, Ringo, was christened that long ago April night
Part wolf, part samoyed, part collie & aussie
He would herd anything from small kids to old Bossy
Every morning he'd walk me to the school yard gate
Every afternoon he'd return & patiently wait
When I graduated from high school in June of ‘82
I argued with the principal that he deserved a diploma, too
Wherever I wandered he was close at my side
Through my childhood years, we roamed far & wide
We hiked every inch of the old Hilton Spread & the Total Wreck, as well
I knew to bring him in with me, when my daddy would start to yell
He moved quick & shadow silent & hardly ever made a sound
But just say the word "Ranch" & watch him come unwound
He loved to chase the rabbits & running with the 'yotes
Its to his credit that some coyote pups had speckled coats
I learned to trust his instinct when the fellers started to call
Why, when his hackles started rising, I knew to end it all
He'd step in between us & stare them down to size
Yep, if Ringo didn't like you, there would be no compromise
He's gone on across the Rainbow bridge where all good dogs abide
But he'll be waiting at Heaven's Gate, to fall in at my side
He taught me loyalty & trust, & that love never ends
For sixteen years, through thick & thin, We were the best of friends
Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005
Sunlight blinding him,
Swirling dust choking him.
The bronc gyrating
Nearly throwing him.
Feet braced and pounding,
Pounding the ground.
Jolting his spin,
Up, and again down.
His head jerking,
Daylight beneath him,
Down on the back,
Of the writhing cayuse.
No eight second buzzer.
To call the end of the ride.
Ignore the pain.
Remember the Pride.
Sunfish, slam and jerk,
Hanging on any way he can.
Fighting to win this battle,
Between beast and man.
The brute gathers his muscles,
Leaps over the rail.
Running, running, running,
Like he’s on freedom’s trail.
Sides heaving, legs shaking,
The horse slows to a stop.
The cowboy turns him homeward,
And says, “Now you learn to walk.”
Copyright © Esther Rhoads | Year Posted 2011
The merits of Jesus Christ are applied to our souls through the Sacraments
Which restore us to the friendship of God
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2011
Not even an answer
Not even an Answer,
Just one single hard lesson.
One that must have been watching me all day long.
Waiting, there in the shadows
While I picked up rocks in the corrals,
or maybe when I was clearing the sinuses of troughs,
with compressed air and trowel
Not even an answer
Just a cold silence, as the lesson slowly crawled up my leg
biting me with needle tipped feet
Getting under my skin
Running down my spine.
Eyeballing the hairs on the back of my neck with hungry eyes
while they stand up, huddled like sheep in the night.
Not even an Answer
There were nine saddles in the barn
All generations old.
Along with a bit with the letters U.S. Cavalry on the side
1865 I'm told.
Found on the ground amongst the fallen horse's bones.
The arrow tip, long returned to the earth after piercing his heart.
The desert shadows rising and falling with the days and years.
Until it was stumbled upon and brought to hang in the barn.
Not even an Answer
When the barn fell and the flames died
and all that remained were fumes of home and history
The boss asked “What happened?”
But as the wind continued.
I couldn't speak.
Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016