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
Categories:
leastways, care, christmas, inspirational,
Form: Couplet
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.
Categories:
leastways, color, depression, moon, sky,
Form: Free verse
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.
Categories:
leastways, inspirationalday, earth, boy,
Form: Cowboy Poetry
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!
Categories:
leastways, cowboy-western
Form: Cowboy Poetry
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
Categories:
leastways, inspirational, life, loss, love,
Form: Free verse
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.
Categories:
leastways, angst, cowboy-western, introspection, loss,
Form: Cowboy Poetry