Long Ponderosa Poems
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He crawled from his bunk stiflin' a hearty yawn.
His work began each day at the very crack of dawn.
He donned his jeans, chaps and old slouch hat,
Pulled on his cowboy boots and strapped on his gat!
He downed a bowl of Cheerios which was his usual fare,
Then mounted Old Dan, his trusty hoss with habitual flair.
He coiled his lasso as he sat there leisurely astraddle.
'Twould be another hot and dusty day in his well-worn saddle!
His first chore was to patrol the miles of barbed wire fences,
Over the rolling plains of his spread's vast expanses.
There were dogies to herd to the corral, there to do battle,
Ropin' and brandin' dozens of cantankerous and wily cattle!
Pausin' at noon 'neath a ponderosa for much-needed relief,
The cook fed him beans, biscuits and roasted beef.
Then back in the saddle as Old Dan he gently spurred,
To continue roundin' up more of the frenzied herd!
It had been a tirin' day ridin' over rollin' hill and dale.
Now he and Old Dan headed home along the moonlit trail.
The five-year-old cowpoke awoke from his dream-filled nap.
Such a gruelin' trail it had been for that hardy little chap!
(c) All Rights Reserved (17 April 2014)
I moved into Rochdale in 1964
My Grandparents and I moved in together
We will not be discussing our ages
Just Rochdale and its amazes
History with a continued stride
As a start off, I who can forget the ROCHDALE MOVIE THEATER
On any given Saturday, it would be a sit down and watch movie flicks
James Bond 007 and Ten Little Indians and then there was one
Action and Thrillers
Those two were my highlights
Speaking of aroma and enchanted senses
PETER PAN BAKERY
Fresh breads, Pastries and assorted cakes
Test of the sweet tooth
My ultimate being the STRAWBERRY SHORT CAKE
Also on any Saturday morning, my Grand Mother would have orders delivered of Seltzer and Soda back then
Regarding water, dazzling colorful water fountain close to Niagara Falls that it’s going to get
Beauty and Mist
At every 7:00 pm hour, the entire sky lights up Rochdale at the end of the evening with colorful eventful lights bringing together all neighbors. Hello Neighbor of our community
That is what you call unity back then
My favorite restaurant was from the past was KING KAROL
What can be said was the Big Box of Popcorn
That’s not all, it the Mash Potatoes, Vegetables and Grilled Sirloin Steak
Never left the Ponderosa
Thanks to my Grand Father in the treat
Rochdale Newspaper, yours truly was featured with a photo of me and a white girl riding our bicycles across splashing through a puddle with the caption stating, “THE NEED FOR BIKE PATHS”
Calling Maintenance
Like flash at your door before you can hang up
All prior years in the newness then
At the Big Mall, you had KREUSS and a Men’s Clothing Store
How time flies and what a difference makes
In fact, we had two malls even back when
Participation was my virtue
You would see me at a lot of events in my younger years
For example, HALLOWEEN
This is just a glimpse of my life at ROCHDALE VILLAGE in the beginning to present
There is a lot more, but if I keep going, I would be like the Duracell Rabbit going and going with no end
Those were my happy times in memory
I wish they would return
Thank you for coming along and giving me the opportunity in sharing my journey.
Gray shrouds cover my way
sets the tone for the day.
Our silent sun sends
rays running round corners
slowly beams burn off -
melting morning misty mind.
As I tread these stone slabs
rapt in wonder of this awe,
great stone bones in it all.
Metropolis makes stirring sounds
anxiously awakens around me.
Rails screech like prehistoric birds,
wind whistles through tunnels twirling,
chatter and honks and hums.
Hear humanities' street symphony.
Parkways sever city canyons.
I cross white striped asphalt rivers,
pass primal Ponderosa stone spires.
Wary walls of glassy eyes glare at me.
Watch my droll daily drudge passively
through towering hollow statues.
I arrive to hug my office door,
seeking some soulful signal.
This inner city, my sentimental friend:
now I'm fearful this soon will end.
Put my face flush on its stone skin,
felt a mounting tear in my eye,
trickled out down between,
turned my head to kiss its skin.
Felt raspy, tasted of grit.
Like kissing a corpse.
Then pulled back and looked up
its everstill edifice to the sky.
Poses the query who am I?
And there I stood a while and thought.
How can we be one?
How can it be me?
Color Pencil illustration G. Gaul
Free Verse Philosophical look at inanimate
stone city structures and the
universal concept of oneness.
11/17/2019
One night I dreamed I wandered, weary in a desert
until a clear blue water lake emerged ahead
midst the new pine landscape of my dream.
Four specks far away, approaching. . .
soon turned into four strong ranchers wearing big brim cowboy hats.
My memory was stirred in tune with an upbeat melody.
And suddenly I knew just who they were!
One, dressed all in black, sat tall and handsome in his saddle.
Another, plain and burly, gave a toothy grin.
Another, young and charming, smiled and winked at me!
The silver-haired gent, their father,
met my gaze with warm and honest eyes.
Seeing my exhaustion, he offered me a place to stay.
Oh, happy dream that I had drifted into:
that bygone era of my youth
when Adam, Hoss and Little Joe,
along with the grand patriarch Ben Cartwright,
had been invited into living rooms on Sunday nights
as families like mine watched their televisions all those years ago.
A bonanza of romance, friendship, loyalty and courage
had given us the good-hearted milder side of the wild wild west.
Alongside the Cartwright clan,
I rode inside my dream toward the cozy ranch house
built on the land of legend called the Ponderosa,
anticipating Hop Sing’s home-cooked supper.
Inspired by the Wild Wild West Poetry Contest
* hear the lyrics of the Bonanza theme song as sung by Lorne Greene (Ben Cartwright)
at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kA-PdP4k4Xw
The Grand Canyon is like the brain
with deep, unexplored fissures and tributaries,
the main route well known by now.
I am walking, walking inside my mind,
a grand canyon, a planet of canyons, a system
of planets. The exploration may become dangerous
I might lose my job, forgetting to go or losing
sight of its importance. But the job is gathering
pinyon nuts and agave fruits, it is the main
river, deepest cavity, how I find the unexplored
canyons and tributaries of my neighbors
and my enemies. But is it a religion,
a reason for living. It is a marriage, for better
or worse, with all the other living. The concept
of life's brevity, temporary compared
with the time taken to carve the canyon, does
not interest me. Each moment has a weather,
is a mirror of all other moments. The naming
of things goes on. Cliff rose and wavyleaf oak,
new mexican locust and sagebrush among ponderosa
and pinyon pine, juniper. Once I know
who they are inhabiting the canyon, the raven's
flight is meaningful. The raven's rock cave,
search for seed and carrion, my home and job.
saguaros
guardians of the sonora
a battalion wafting
in one hundred degree heat
standing sentry on granite slopes
vertical green etches
in carmel cliffs
literally--litter the foothills
rising up the mountain
saguaros fall away
ocotillos remain
their leafy tentacles flailing
like upside down tarantulas
dotting the crevices and shelves
along with mexican oak
climbing higher
ocotillo give way
to arizona cypress, alligator juniper,
and too many nondeciduous oaks to name
desert? what desert?
temperature's dropped to sixty four
at six thousand feet
aspen and maple emerge
a little further
along come all the conifers
tall dark forests of
douglas fir and ponderosa pine
nearing the summit there's...
snow? not snow. in august?
no, not snow. really?
nine thousand feet
corkbark fir and a
couple of spruce
it's now a cool
fifty two
town on top
we stop
baby needs hoody
and hot chocolate
grandpa needs
to fathom it all
fifty miles,
six thousand five hundred feet
below
it's one hundred and three
sky island
not overrated
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak
bear tracks visible in the spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises like good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of
meaning now seem gone away...
Until reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning,
—holding nothing back
The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak,
bear tracks visible in the Spring thawing snow
Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land,
the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom
The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb,
searching for that redemption never offered below
The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den,
the road to all new entry having now been cleared
Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts,
it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal
In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon,
tying close the promises as good wishes on a Christmas morning
It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of meaning
now seem gone away...
Reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning
—holding nothing back
(Columbia Falls Montana: September, 2003)
I reckon to us city dudes an' ordinary blokes it seems somewhat strange,
But a cowpoke an' his horse become pards when ridin' the lonely range!
Pausin' fer a roll-yer-own under a ponderosa after a hot ride on the grange,
He might alight from the saddle, lean agin his hoss an' hold this exchange:
"Dan, ol' pard, me an' you has spent years ridin' them bobbed war fences.
I sure do like yer company, ol' pal, 'cause you ain't got no pretenses!
You ain't like them wimmen folk I knows - they is jes' a common scold!
You don't give me any sass an' you kindly do what yer told!"
"I reckon as long as I kin tolerate Cooky's grub an' you git yer oats to eat,
We kin abide the cantankerous boss, rattlesnakes an' the prickly heat.
We've rode togither in mud, dust, sleet an' rain an' the blowin' snow,
An' ye've been a good an' faithful cuss, I jes wanted ye to know!"
"I 'preciate yer toleratin' my git-tar strummin durin' night cattle guard,
When me an' you soothe them dogies when it's a-thunderin' real hard!
I don't know 'bout you, ol' Dan, but I have lotsa time to ponder,
Jes' a-gazin' at the wonder of them mountain ranges over yonder!"
"I ain't never gonna git rich cowboyin', an' ain't that the truth!
But, ol' pard, that's all I ever hankered to do ever since my youth!
Well, if'n yer ready to hit the trail agin I'll saddle up ol' friend.
We has got a heap of work to do before this day comes to an end!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
When Peg laughs like Liz
deep woman-hearted laugh
eating beef jerky on Mesa Verde
the good hearts and smarts of women
come back to me, not guessing
any better than they at the time what love
meant, leaving them behind in sandstone time
going to my own cement, sandstone
or good mountain grave
having seen the sharp-shinned and sparrow
hawk flying and at rest, not at peace,
seeking prey from a ponderosa snag.
I left my woman behind to float
alone down the long canyon for feathers
and signs, she's making camp
the moon half full, the sun half high
sky full of planets birds and stars
I look up from the rocks
elements
housekeeping, thinking
love that's learned to love
from earlier loves
laughs remembered, heard
in the laugh of the woman who is my wife.