Best Cept Poems
"I've rode the range now fer nigh on sixty years,
Brandin' dogies and ropin' them wily Hereford steers.
When I come to the end of the trail, I don't want no big scenes.
Boys, jes' wrap me in my hoss's blanket and bury me in my jeans!"
"I don't want you fellers carryin' on and bellerin' when I'm gone.
Jes' say a few kind words, git back in the saddle and carry on!
Think of me now and then when you're chewin' yer bacon and beans.
'Jes promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"
"Promise me you'll take good care of my faithful hoss, Old Dan,
And let him tag along on roundups on the range when you can.
I love cowboyin', but boys you know I ain't a man of means.
Jes' wrap this poor old soul in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"
"Buck, you kin have my scruffy boots and old sweat-stained hat.
Rusty, you take my saddle - Red, you kin have my 44-caliber gat.
Them's my worldly goods 'cept fer these jeans that's worn to smithereens,
But promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in them jeans!"
"I'd like to be planted on that knoll yonder 'neath that ponderosa pine.
If you kin scare up a preacher to send me on my way, that'll do jes' fine.
I've been a cowpoke since I was fourteen - I reckon it's in my genes.
Boys, promise me you'll wrap me in a blanket and bury me in my jeans!"
Entry for Line Gauthier's "Cowboy Poem Contest"
Why sit and worry over things that seem to happen daily;
Little things that come and go that just annoy us really?
Why get angry over certain things that those around us do,
'Cause people make mistakes sometimes and life's too short to stew,
O'er things that sometimes come about without a soul to blame,
'Cept happen-stance and circumstance for want of other names.
To fume and worry constantly makes mind and body sicken.
It doesn't solve a single thing, it takes the joy from livin';
For God has deemed that rain will fall on fair and foul alike,
And what can grow without the rain as well as warm sunlight;
So take the rain and praise The Lord for sunlight and for showers,
And thank Him every day that dawns for blessings He's made ours.
I’ve been lost for days now, an’ all the country looks the same.
I’ve been walkin’ ‘round in circles, an’ found my footsteps once again.
Me ‘tucker’ bags been empty for, three days an’ there’s this ragin’ thirst.
I feel my tethers at its end. I can only fear the worst.
I must keep these tired legs strugglin’ on toward the mirage up ahead.
I pass the bones of sheep an’ roo’s, an’ quietly shudder at the dead.
There’s not a livin’ thing around, ‘cept ‘Old Blue’ at me feet,
he’s lookin’ more like mutton now, an’ good enough to eat.
I stumbled to a creek bed, where red gums offered shade,
with one of my last three matches, a little fire was made.
‘Old Blue’ looked bravely up at me, he knew there’s nought to eat.
And I’m sure my old dog realised, he was the only meat …
‘Old Blue’ laid beside the campfire, but was lookin’ pretty scant,
for he never had his coat on now. He couldn’t bark or pant.
I thanked him in a sobbin’ grace … cut slices off him with a knife.
A real mate was me old dog ‘Blue’. I know he saved me life.
‘Old Blue’ deserves a medal, for the dedication he has shown.
He’d know that I was upset now, ‘cause I hate eatin’ on me own.
Old memories came floodin’ back, now I’m full I feel so sad,
as I recall the good times, ‘Old Blue’ and I have had.
I stared into the glowin’ embers, an’ watched ‘em slowly die.
With what was goin’ through me head, a tear fell from me eye,
I sadly eyed the little pile that had built up on the stones …
Thinkin’ ‘Gee I wish that Blue was here … he would’a loved them bones’.
livin’ on the beach in a hut by the sea
green grass , warm gentle breezes and all kinds of lovely trees .
I’m gonna beat the heat to make my retreat sittin by the sea
Cause its winter in the world cept livin here with me
I am happy to make your acquaintance
And i raise a glass to your health , long life and prosperity
So peace my friends and welcome to the sea
Where the music is playin’ ,the sun is shinin’, the people gentle and free
No hassles from the man and no worries will make your day go bad
Lay back and hear the music that wont be sad
The sounds will keep you cool listenin’ to the beat
The sun and the gentle warm breezes
All the pretty girls in bare feet paradin’ down the street
where livin is easy and laid back like u want life to be
Plenty food and drink for you man
To sing and dance the night away
Come down to the sea and live your life away
Some may look to distant Mars
among radiant stars.
Get to the desert, you'll find more
much nearer ours.
Nearer than any man knows.
Ancestral, celestial bones,
secret kept in Mojave's botany
seldom seen
though I've never been.
Spread of clustered flowering panicles..
tall giants in sun swept sleep,
despite little rain
inside darkest soul
they creep.
As a child waking from slumber,
thirsty in wonder..
they'll see you free wi' no more pain,
'cept that you bring.
Look to the west,
our landlocked stars..
and be free again,
truly free,
once again.
"I love words, because they're mine. Utterly, completely mine. I can share them with others. I can keep them to myself. I can use them over and over again. No matter what I do, they'll always be mine. No one can take them away from me." - Parker S. Huntington
Penniless and powerless
Naught is utterly mine,
'Cept one significant thing
That shall never be thine
Take thee my happiness
Take thee all my time,
Still, I hold the words
And I possess the rhyme
For poetry, thou cannot claim
Be I alive or be I dead,
Naught is utterly mine
'Cept thine words thee read.
In tight and busy parking lots
You can easily get perturbed
Should I back out; take the long way,
Or should I just jump the curb?
Jeeportunity!
The well-worn road around the butte
Will take ten minutes more
But a dusty two-track byway
Will save us some time -- I'm sure!
Jeeportunity!
This time the parking lot is full
‘cept a small space next to a hill
“No worries!” mumbling to no one,
“I’ll just drive it up there in Four-wheel.
Jeeportunity!
It”s time to buy a set of wheels,
Your spouse wants the blue mini-van.
There, on the end, what’s that you see?
A Rubi Wrangler! Yup, I’m a fan!
Jeeportunity!
Some cold day in my future life
I will climb the stairway to heaven,
In a golden Jeep with a mega lift
And the tires will be Thirty Sevens!
Jeeportunities!
You are a good dog Patches,
'cept for brown patches of stain,
Which you leave all over
the green grass,
I wish you would restrain
You're such a smart dog, Patches,
You left my mind in awe,
When on the 6 ft block wall,
Your careful pretty paws,
Lead you, as if on tight rope,
As if you were a cat,
You could have fallen and
Broke your tail!
Please don't do things
like that!
You're such a sweet dog
Patches,
Unless you rip up trash,
And tear up the new carpet
That cost us lots of cash.
You are a blessed dog, Patches,
But did you eat a yam?
No!
When Holidays were nigh
you stole and
Chewed the Christmas ham!
You are a dear dog Patches
And truly, thinking back,
You only chewed up diapers
Cuz' you liked them for a snack.
When I was a child ‘bout five to six I used to dream that this were me
I’d peel back frame from toys, take apart their guise to see what was beneath
I was ever so careful, every tiny pin, kept safe in a sealed plastic case
Just wanted to see, what a heart looked like, I was told I had my own.
My patients name was Beryl.
A gossip. I didn’t care for her spiteful chirped lies!
Her sideways remarks… and even less for that wondering eye
She followed my each and every move… felt just like papa in one of his moods
As I sliced ‘scalp from Beryl I mused, had she no brain!
How could that be? Why must you make me think of mother again!
Beryl’s chirp had now stopped she stared at me, eyes glazed
Yet I saw her cold eyes glint, had I gone too far?
Tears flooded my cheeks, smearing lines through built ‘grime
I’d only wanted to see her heart!
In shards my door smashed apart like cannons wreck
I didn’t know papa was home! I coiled my wasted skin and tired bones erect
‘It wasn’t your fault ‘nor mine but you’re just like me’
Ok muttered I… just wanted to see a heart!
He pointed to what he called a ‘circular MIL’ then said
‘That’s as close as you’ll get you dirty little flea!’
Then he said his last words… well, his last words to me
‘If you don’t fear me by now, you and the world were not meant to be!’
Then he grabbed me strong by my throat and shook me hard ‘till wires came free
My legs axles departed, left my body completely!
As I fell silent, t’was strange I caught a glimpse of myself
A dirty rigid specimen dissected on the floor
Wires stripped back to copper, ‘cept my copper were white
As I looked at both hearts… Beryl and me… I thought
They were the same!... White began clouding my sight
My heart may not have looked like Beryl’s… but we both just needed that spark.
There once was a farmer named Brock
Who was proud of his timely cock.
‘Cept it rose too early
Surprising his Shirley
On the day we turned back the clock.
It’s a’ hundred an’ ten,
'Neath the shade of my chin,
An’ the prairie’s cracked like old leather.
Looks like my skin,
Where a boys face once had been,
The years; how they do gather?
Time’s been cruel to the Staked Plains,
Once gorged by ancient rains,
Now seized in her dusty wrath.
Barren amber grass now remains,
Scorched breath tries removin' her stains,
Beseechin’ her forbidden bath.
Pony or calf my only shade,
‘Cept what little Resistol made,
Bestowed Blessin’s upon an’ open range.
A Prairie Moon brings little aide,
North Star brought a wind laid,
Thanks Lord, it’s a welcomed pleasant change.
By: Jim “Ish” Fellers
Copyright ©; June 1, 2008 ~ Sunday
(These are lyrics to a song I wrote called "Blasphemy")
Verses:
Mother Mary sat on a bench with me today
But I couldn't think of one goddamn thing to say
'Cept, "Mother, oh! Won't you please save my soul right now?
I'd gladly do it but I don't know exactly how"
Hail Mary! Bless me twice!
Judas betrayed Jesus Christ
In Revelations, prophets said
John the Baptist lost his head
Chorus:
You gotta pander to my ego
Herod was my hero
Why didn't Noah's Ark fall apart?
Genesis was...just the start
Verses:
St. Peter slammed those Pearly Gates right into my fuc*ing face
Just too much sin I can't get in; no mansion there for me awaits
The wife of Lot, she turned to salt, but it was not all her fault
She ran away and then looked back as Sodom burned, and that's a fact
Repeat Chorus...
Verses:
Well, life was Hell so Jonah sailed into the belly of a whale
Daniel in the lion's lair; Delilah chopped off Samson's hair
Cain killed Abel out of spite as the Lamb of God got sacrificed
There came the Whore of Babylon while Thomas doubted every-one
Repeat Chorus...
**Just trying to post something a little different ;)
This is not a Sports Limerick ; For Jan's Limerick Contest .
My Limerick will not mention Sports .
Either pitches , golf courses or courts .
'Cept cranky old farts
Who like playing darts
With no fuss in a truss of supports .
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Sorry guys , I just couldn't resist it !
Happy Christmas to all the talented writers here , and to those who passed comment on my "ramblings" . May your pens be sharp/witty and bountiful for 2016
Sean .
Red Squirrel
Early morning sunlight,
Serenity and peaceful dawn,
Alone ‘cept the company of Songbirds,
Red Squirrel appears to yawn.
Woodland path, springtime dell,
Away from the madding crowd,
Natures world of spirituality,
Chaos here forbidden and disallowed.
Prissy to say Magical Forest,
But it’s true, joy on Earth right here.
Leaving behind 21st Century madness,
This life so far and yet so near.
My top ten will always be my fingers and toes.
One more makes eleven if you’re counting my hose.
Oops, was that a Freudian typo, I meant my nose.
Without my top ten, couldn’t walk or flick off, if I chose,
let alone spray water on my favorite red rose.
Perhaps I could think of more if I juxtapose.
But then the numbers would inflate when my list grows.
I’m trying my best to enumerate with prose,
getting back to the theme before my mind forgoes.
Maybe I’ll set it right after I repose,
easier to see when I’m not wearing much clothes.
Too late, said I, as I continue struggling to compose.
I feel like a lawyer who is about to depose.
Glad I’m not a doctor known to misdiagnose.
Now that you have read this, I’ve something to propose.
The run around I gave you had nothing to disclose,
cept maybe wishing it was in polyphonic prose!
*For the “Top Ten Contest.” Joe, surely I jest!