Leastways Poems | Examples

   I say this to all of you
      because it is so true

   I love the Christmas season
      for oh-so-many reasons

   There's a certain feeling in the air
      that just yesterday was not there 

   People stop and say hi, pass the time
      dig into their pockets when they hear
             'Hey buddy, have you got a dime?' 

   Acts of kindness just feel right
      no longer the exception
         leastways, that's my perception

   Then on Christmas night, once it's snowed
      you'll never be stranded on a lonely road 

   For high in the sky there's an ear and an eye
      ~ Santa and his reindeer will surely hear your cry

The Moon is full and bright.
It's white.
But I know...
it's black;
or, anyway, grey.
And swaddled in the airless
Really Black.
(like me.)

The sun is yellow,
the Sky blue. 
But the sun's always
seemed white to me.
The anodyne Sky - so less 
blue
than one who is blue
down deep, so blue. 

And when the Sky
seems fruited with
color, I know it's stolen
hues.  Or, leastways,
borrowed dyes when
daylight daily dies.

Spring clouds come scuddin’ in the crystal creek blue sky;
A man could ride beneath and never ask them why
Their streaks of white are like the tracks of wagon wheels—
Why he only stares – never says just how he feels.

The big day’s surly comin’ upon us too soon—
It will be in the night or in the afternoon—
And all the good and fine on earth will be taken;
With just the evil now among us forsaken.

My horse will be trottin’; but I sure won’t be there;
He’ll ride on without me as I fly in the air—
Leastways, so I hope when that judgment day does come—
When I lift to heaven and hear that sacred drum.

That time will soon be comin’ – each day it grows nigh,
As the chosen leave that soil and soar in the sky—
Yes, earth will grow empty and be a sullen pod,
As we find our home on the open range of God.

There’s a long tradition of cowboys and their pals,
Watchin’ buckin’ broncos settin’ on wood corrals.
It’s something they enjoys and sure ‘nuff don’t avoids—
But, dern that wood is hard on their ol’ hemorrhoids!

Feels like they’s sittin’ on a brandin’ iron that’s hot—
It’s an awful feelin’ that ain’t too soon forgot.
And ridin’ saddles ain’t much better I allows—
But leastways there’s more paddin’ than them wood corrals!

today i went  to
the Sonic
but not for
ice cream

i drove up and talked
with the drive thru
and they were so 
very nice

they gave me what
i wanted and
i did give a
complicated
order

then i parked 
and read the paper
and watched the 
other people in 
their cars
interacting with
each other

that is when it came.....

the missing came to me
so strong i physically
felt the blow to my
stomach

i wanted to go to tell
you what i saw
that was really 
funny

but....alas you are
dead and gone

i remember you used 
to say in a humorous
voice....when we would
talk about someone
that went on with life 
after a loved one died

and you said....oh but
it is o.k.. their husband 
or wife pass
because the deceased
are as dead as they
ever going to be
 
then i  clearly see
you tilt your head and
look that look
with your
cornflower blue eyes

they needed to move on

well, mama, you know
that i know that you are
but i don't  believe you
will be
dead as you are you
are going to be

leastways in my heart

It had been some thirty years,
Back when I was young and free—
Before I lost all those fears
And left to see what I could see.

But time can make you humble
As you turn into a coot—
And come back where you stumble
Along that windin’ Bitterroot.

Our house’s like a tumbleweed
That the night wind somehow saves—
Frail and old and gone to seed,
Near all the family’s graves.

So I’ve followed this river
That they named the Bitterroot—
Once taker, now a giver
And an old bitter man to boot.

I’ve come back to find those dreams
That cowboys often now lose—
Along rivers, lakes and streams
And in saloons and cards and booze.

But seems some feller once said
That you can’t go home again—
At leastways till you’re done dead
And they ship you where you begin.

So now I’m headin’ on out
And I may go on a toot—
But now I know what life’s about
Back there on the Bitterroot.

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