Grandmother Cowboy Poems

Out west there are many new ways.                  ...

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Thank her, thank her
thank her
She'll say for what
She'll wait for you
anwser
You'll say
Thank you very much
You'll try to find conversation
and work your mind to
speak
You'll say
Ah dah,...

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...Harold was gob-smacked by all that he heard,
he struggle hard to find something to say,
his grandfather smirked, and then clear his throat,
“Now your grandma I...

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It was back in the 1920s that
Harold Welsner brought his fiancé home,
to show the family his lovely Sandra,
blue-eyed beauty, auburn hair, and small bones.

He wanted...

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Shadow Lights

Have you ever noticed? 
When you sit your hands upon the keys. 
If you close your eyes, 
just right...
not too tight, no peeking, but...

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Yesterday

We 
that can remember
keep-alive
those that have been forgotten,
in the small room,
the place in our hearts,
where God 
plants the best flowers,
and no tears…
fall....

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Fading Paper Dolls

Slowly leaving things out, 
important and then, 
not so much. 

Angry people that believe 
they are slighted, 
or given less value, 
found wrong...
as...

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Angels Sing

I hear them, 
all the time. 
When I pick up my child, 
and hold her close, 
her breath…
Harps; lovely,
faraway, 
and distant.

When I go to...

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Goodbye

I waved as you left the drive. 
I heard your sweet voice… 
ever cheerful.

Hours passed. 
I did the dishes. 
I cleaned up. 
I got ready...

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Pumpkin Pie

Warm fresh, aromatic…
nutmeg, cinnamon, clove(s)…ssss…. 

Butter crust, 
hand mixed, 
hand rolled,
by a 100 year old pin. 
Loved on,
by the cook. 

Flakes of heaven, 
peeled...

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The Ugly Sweater

Grandma taught me to crochet. 
My aunt she taught me to knit. 
I can do neither well. 
It is the truth. 
At six,...

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Keeping Still

The fire has burned low my love. 
I dare not move to fix it. 
You have fallen asleep against my chest.
I feel you breathing.
I...

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The Gun

On the wall above the fire place, 
Grandpa’s rifle still sits. 
I take it down now and then to clean, 
but put it back...

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The Making of Cookies

The lost art of putting, 
flower, sugar, vanilla,
and cream together.
More than small cakes, 
a distance…
far past “home made”, 
to the sheer land...

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Grandma

My hands hesitate here… hovering over the keyboard…
Numb, hard to make do as I ask…
This should be happy, 
but I am…
crying.

I miss her. 

She smoked...

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