Long Ride out Poems
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I promise I would be a good girl when I go out into the world, I promise to stay out of trouble and return home in a hurry. I promised never to play in the street or walk barefoot, I promise I would stay in school and complete the semester and when the climate changed, I promise to graduate and study at the university.
It’s seems like yesterday when I utter such word when I was at play. I was thirteen and you were thirty-three and I always looked up to thee. You have always encouraged me to hold my head high and never look into ground that hold the dust of shame to its core, and the molten lava spewing through the hole and entering the spot where the disgraced soldier, conceptualize the plot.
I can still hear those words ringing in my ears as I walk the path that everyone fears, it is the moment of truth that is embedded in my youth and the ordeal I encountered on life’s journey comes back to remind me.
I could tell from the start that you are a heart breaker and the season come to remind me that the fault is within me and love is my destiny; when the autumn is done and winter comes along and the snow starts falling, it will fill the lakes and the trees, the ocean and sea and you will come and dance with me.
We will do the river dance on the roof and do the fire dance in a circle, then we will roll in the snow and touch each other dignity, and Boston and Richmond will come alive, Baltimore and Washington DC will take the dive, but New York and Philadelphia will ride out the snowstorm.
It seems like yesterday the climate changed and the clouds start fading away. I stood on those very steps and recited the whole chapter, I stood on that step and grasp every living character, I remember how you cast your eyeballs at me and how the mountain shook beneath the sea when you said, “will you marry me?”
“I am only thirteen, “she said, and I cannot lie in that big bed, “Yes I will marry you,” she replied, she held breath for a while and look on every side and you were still standing looking at her; then a gust of wind came, and you suddenly disappeared, and I stood on the step gazing at the wind.
The daughter's promise was fulfilled, and they walk boldly up the hill after thirty-three years in the making the universe had their blessing, the evidence is in the wind and you can hear it when you are still, winter is chiming in.
Farewell old pard, I write this letter to you. Well, I guess I’ll saddle up and ride out with my new pard, he’s only a colt at three.
He’s a real beauty, a real eye pleaser and sure of foot with a cutting pedigree.
I’ll go on out to the rough country where the sky is blue, relive the
old times and try to work the rope a bit, so I won’t be thinking of you.
We were pards for many a year and we both tote the scars to show
and that cold back you had fairly tossed me hard every morning before you’d make up your mind to go.
But we never shared a cross word that ever meant much among friends,
Though, you did take a few hard comments when you got ornery now and then.
We purt- near worked in all kinds of weather, rain, snow and even a blizzard or two.
We shared our misery out on the plains when the cold winds off the mountain blew.
We’ve covered a lot of country, any closer, I don’t guess any pards could be
and though you weren’t much to look at, it never meant much to me.
You loved your job and worked it well with light rains and leg ques.
And there were times when you led the way, and I took my ques from you.
You were not a natural cutter, but you weren’t scared of bulls, cows or steer
and you worked the tight spots eagerly, never showing the jitters of fear.
We were pards, alright, never just a way to get the job done nor pleasure for me,
You loved it too, riding the open range with only the basics that kept us wild and free.
Why did you go and leave me, you just laid down in your stall and I was left alone.
I tell my stories and old pard, I tell yours too, since you’ve checked out and gone.
I look back through the years as I sit here looking over the grass growing high on the range.
How love for a horse can feel so right is hard for this cowboy to explain.
I can’t help but riminess’ and wonder, were there times you just didn’t feel quite well?
You always took to the saddle and in my selfish way, I never cared to ask, and you didn’t tell
We’d ride out and pretty- soon, you seemed glad you came along and there were
times we trailed in late, long after the sun had gone.
But now I look back on the past and sentimental thoughts tears my eyes and burden me.
Good-by old pard from your old friend, you were the best any pard could be.
Sleepy eyes awake to crashing sounds on window panes
Creeping animals scramble around bristling forests nesting for a spot
while thousands of mad ants crusade in barren fields storing food in tiny plots
Along the busy high way meandering trees parted wide asphalted roads
and thick wavering clouds peak above shrouded path waiting for it to start.
Countless loaded trucks speed down bending roads honking horns
forewarning oblivious travelers not to take a chance
In the center of town busy shoppers paraded the crowded plaza
Ignoring beckoning dark clouds pressing upon them from pregnant skies.
Laughing children swing high on Ferris wheels
grown men tossed up down expanded roller coasters
screaming out of control
amused with laughter.
Unforeseen the gigantic Ferris wheel halted
And a terrifying sound emerged from beneath
Stealing the happy children’s delightful laughter
thick black clouds overshadows
the sounds get louder and confusion drenches the streets
dust and debris flutter in the atmosphere
A thunderous sound spits venomous vengeance
whipping and lashing
whistling and barking
and maneuvers the busy town
it dances from city to city
Wrenching up a destined path
disseminating people all over the streets
But the terrified children grip tightly
Kept calm and ride out the raging storm
©2013 Christine Phillips
But later that night the girl tip-toed out,
And went down to the registry desk.
She picked up the ledger, poured through it all,
There was something that she had to check.
Back upstairs she went, content to wait
Her quarry had not yet arrived.
He loved was awake, and smiled at her
The kind the makes a man feel alive.
She smiled back and asked for his name,
She’d forgotten to ask in the rush.
He said ‘Clarence Stone,’ and out came her gun,
And she pointed it straight at his gut.
She said,’My name is Ellie-May Burton,
Sent out two months ago on this path,
To track down a Stone who ran to the west,
Hoping to escape our wrath!’
But he heard a catch in her harsh tone,
And in her gun-hand a slight shiver.
He couldn’t forget the warmth of her touch,
So one final chance her did give her:
He nodded and said,’Then fire away,’
With a coldness that made the soul quake.
The gun fell from her hands, and she lit out,
Running from the hotel without break.
Come morning he road, pointed northwest
Unnerved, but his decision remained,
To return to Kentucky and die in a feud
Was a choice not made by the sane.
In the bright prairie light a rider appeared,
A familiar woman on a mare.
She rode up slowly, face red form tears,
No weapon upon him did bear.
He moved closer slowly, hand on his gun,
But she said,’Clarence, there’s no need.
I’ve been thinking all night on what I’m to do
Of the future and of dark deeds.’
‘Of a good man who stood, fought by my side,
And put on a fine show in bed.
Yet my family demands, for forgotten crimes
That I put a bullet in his head.’
‘Perhaps it is best, what you’re doing now,
Riding out a free man to the wild.
To be ride of the hate that has put kin in graves,
Since the days when I was a child.’
‘They say that a woman needs a good man,
And the good men need themselves a wife.
I may not be so good, but I think you and I
Could ride out and build ourselves a life.’
Then she went silent, he waited and thought
Of the chances and of the risks.
But the pain in her eyes told the whole truth
She he rode close and planted a kiss.
They moved out at a trot, both realizing that
Amongst the worst you sometimes find the best,
And to this very day countless Burton-Stones
Are scattered all over the west.
Life – a churning maelstrom that batters the senses, the emotions
Ceaseless, never waning as it pounds endlessly on our soul
An eternal storm, lashing continuously against us
Beating at us, wearing down all resistance
Consuming us with its unstoppable power
Swirling with both uplifting and crushing forces, unseen
Some can embrace it, feeding on the energy it can provide
Living for each moment, enjoying, as it feeds them
Absorbing the never ending influx that fills their very being
Seemingly impervious to the darker clouds within
Their soul battles always to keep the crushing power at bay
Trying to feed only on the positive – always battling but surviving
Others find a safe harbor, somewhere to ride out the worst
To mend and patch their battered and beaten resistances
Not always safe, but never far from security, safety
Never wandering far from shore, forever seeking the calm
Building strong walls, keeping all but the strongest surges at bay
Never experiencing the thrills, the adventure – but always safe
But in the wildest, darkest parts, towards the centre of the hurricane
Some survive, fighting to the core of their being
Battered, bruised, their resistances all but destroyed by the ceaseless fury
They search, always looking for the right path, the way to peace
Few find a way, sometimes alone, sometimes with others
Battling to stay afloat, slowly finding a way through the chaos
But there are always the lost, seemingly caught forever in the maelstrom
Enveloped by the darkness, no beacon to guide them, no walls to shield them
Never noticed, ignored, feeling alone, adrift in a sea of despair, lost
Few will be saved, pulled and dragged to a safe harbor by caring souls
To survive, to live, to rebuild stronger, hoping against hope
Building their resistance to the constant storm, staying close to safety
For many, there is no respite, drawn further into the raging darkness
Feeling there is only one escape – the darkness at the very heart of the storm
Quiet, calm darkness, holding them steady while the maelstrom rages
A place they feel safe, free from the outside, free from the torment
Darkness, peaceful, completely enveloped, feeling free, total escape
It shelters them; somewhere they can be free from all - from life
I am in the middle of nowhere without a gun, bullets, bow or spear, the philistine are coming upon me and an angry crowd is moving towards the square.
You have got to help me to get out of here, for the second judgment is drawing near and nothing on the island will be speared; prepare your evacuation route and get a comfortable pair of walking shoes.
Daylight greets me like dew dripping from a motionless tree
And the sun with its candid smile emerges from its resting place and in seconds it starts to blaze. I walked in circles to purge the heat from my body, but it kept filtering out in the street and a big celebration began in the square.
This is the irony that I never fear, I know that something good was going to happen but I could tell where, and when the sun came out my spirit began to shout and the crowd in the square reminds me that destiny was near.
The desert heat spreads its warmth all over the city and anger
Turn into a smile and the big band was standing by, the food trucks start rolling in and the vendor start to sing, the people kept coming and the desert was filled with canopy.
It is the magic that sometimes happens when life takes you on a winding journey, the fragility of the wind fizzle out when you move about and the pleasure of life takes you where you wants to go, you never could imagine that you could be part of the show.
Can you feel what I feel the moment is real, just listen to the flute and it will remind you of your youth, when you climb the hills and valleys and the elements in the sky whispers a sweet lullaby.
I am standing on real earth and gravity is under my feet
It is where we ought to be, close to the fish that swims in the sea.
And when the vastness of life surrounds you and night falls
You will leave the desert wall and take a ride out to the middle of sea and the moonlight will have a dialogue with thee. Just I and you sitting there absorbing the pleasure of the salty air.
I am nowhere in the middle of nowhere because you are here
And the moon sprinkle its light over the calm sea and the desert heat melt with passion for thee, and it all came together without a doubt and at last we could celebrate history.
Come and join the desert crew something special is waiting for you.
The Knight
There once was a man, bravery beyond all compare
Bound to a king and kingdom, to the people in despair
Past battles to honour his king and his homelands
Willingly to lay down his life for all the many clans
His armour chinked, remnants of battles long ago
His sword in its sheave, ready to defeat any foe
His trusty steed, a long friendship, has been earned
His honour never falters, ones greatness , be yearned
On a solemn night, the king seeks, his one true knight
“You my friend, my protector, my one true guiding light
“My kingdom cries out to me, do you hear her distain
You are her servant, and of all your knights that remain “
“There is this evil that threatens, means to kill and destroy
“These marauding clans, many lands, many hoards to deploy “
“We must stand now, raise our swords, show we stand tall”
He cries "Today we shall live or we die", for the good of all”
"We must ride out to meet these ungodly, unworthy hoard
Let our bravery, feel their defeat with our blood stain swords
Each of us knights, swore an allegiance to God and our king
Now is the time, fight for the honour and glory that shall bring"
Such a battle, never seen in many of years past
Fighting for the honour, for the kingdom to last
Each knight wields their sword, victory seems
The one true knight, hearing the death screams
He stands tall in the saddle, seeing all the bloodshed
His knights stand true, lost in a field of crimson red
When an errant spear, somehow finds it's one mark
He falls from his steed, blood flows it's reddish dark
Knights kneel at his side, seeing death approach their brother
All of his warriors, humbly pay homage to a general like no other
They raise and carry his body and his sword
To honour his bravery, for his king and his lord
A king strangely kneels before his fallen knight
As if he lost his only son, sorrow lost in twilight
He stands, looks upon his people and he cries
“This my truest knight, his life, what does it symbolize “
All the kingdom pay homage to their fallen son
Raise banners, tell tales, sing songs of the one
The one true saviour, to our hearts remain anew
To our brave heart, his soul shall remain true
I was somewhere deep in Kansas,
on a Triumph 69’
When your song came on the jukebox,
and hit me from behind
I was headed for a bad place,
and cared for nothing much
When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck
Entranced, your lyrics captured me,
like nothing had before
When you sang about ‘The Gypsy,’
I headed for the door
But something made me turn around,
and grab another dime
Ten more times in that diner’s booth,
still lost within your rhyme
Now back inside the bus station,
and sleeping on the bench
I scratch your words into the wood,
last dollar gone and spent
My bike outside against the wall,
the kickstand now long gone
And out of gas, my hopes have dashed,
that unrelenting song
Waking up at ten unsettled,
across the street I pushed
The sign said Triumph-BSA,
the owner Mister Cush
He asked, “What’s with your motor,”
I said “nothing—out of gas,
“But worse I’m out of money,
can I sell the bike for cash
“Would you please just buy my Triumph,
I know it’s old and worn
“It got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”
“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot,
on that can we agree?”
We walked back up inside his shop,
three bills he handed me
I thought about a bus ride home,
my thumb looked more in line
Facing East on old route #50,
my heart in deep decline
The first big rig that came along,
was bound for York Pa.
The driver said “If you like dogs,
I’ll take you on your way”
In York I caught a fast ride out,
two ‘dodgers’ going North
And got back home with hat in hand,
your song to guide me forth
Two years then passed, I met my wife,
four more and our first child
And we named her ‘Sweet Melissa,’
her dad back from the wilds
Now forty years have come and gone,
my beard and hair both gray
I owe you Gregg, and always will,
your song, her name—that day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
For Gregg Allman
I Sent This To Gregg Last March,
It's on His Website. We Spent Two
Days Together In Richmond Va. In A Blizzard In 1982
V.
Besides a rushing stream he saw a stone hut,
framed by aspens clinging to a rough slope,
the chimney was stained from long years of use,
But who lived out here? He just didn’t’ know.
Until his eyes happened upon two graves,
one had weathered, the other was fresh cut.
Who could they know who was buried out here?
Curious, he dismounted and walked up.
The older gave said: ‘Here lies Joseph Fields,
1851 to 1912,
Father, and Husband to his dear Rennie.’
The priest stumbled back. “Wha-what does this mean?”
The oldest daughter, who was named Isabel,
said,”She knew the townsfolk would not understand.
That’s why she used to ride back in her youth,
she combed the mountains, seeking out this man.
“She knew our grandpa had done the man wrong,
that a normal life he never would live.
She brought him money so he’d stop thieving,
and it return, his whole heart he did give.
“When our grandpa died they both realized
that without hm none could prove pa was framed,
they both dreamed of reopening his case,
but knew that doing so would be in vain.
“He visited us at night, when he was able,
and we rode out here to his backwoods hut.
We’re not bastards, Father Cobb married them,
you can at least tell the people that much.
“Six years ago, when our father passed on,
she came out here to give her man a grave.
She made it clear to us, when her time came,
we were to ride out here and do the same.
“We could not speak of this when she still lived,
to do so would have been their undoing,
a millionaire heiress weds an outlaw…
You understand this this would have brought ruin.
“But now their troubles are finally done,
and they can be here, at each other’s sides.
I hope you can spare a few prayers for them,
forced to be apart for so much of their lives.”
The priest was amazed, but slowly nodded,
said, “We thought worse of her than she deserved.
I ask forgiveness, I thought so myself.”
Then he knelt low and whispered holy words.
Later than night, when their mom was at rest,
they all rode away as the sun went low,
past a grave that read: ‘Here lies Rennie Fields,
Forever besides her beloved Joe.’
Midnight darkness suddenly descended upon the city as morning peeped through the blackened sky the city waits in suspense to die.
They have been working for several days battening up windows and doors as if they can keep the wind out. Thousands of sand bags lined the shore forming a pyramid in the shape of a door, the sea gulls' flies to and fro holding mass on top of the sand's bags.
The military is on base, trying to put things in place, the governor is issuing warning and mass evacuation is happening. They have been through this process every year but some people just don’t care. Those that refuse to leave went flying seventy-five meter in the breeze landing in the boat that capsized on the shore.
The hollowing wind comes dancing in and the branches and roots begin to sing scattering leaves on the ground just warming up and looking around.
Everyone grips tightly to their beds holding on to their pillows while the little children held tightly to their mothers as the howling wind races like a mad man through the city. The intensity is low and the wind does not have a long way to go, it swirls around the street dumps water around as the surge spreads water throughout the town.
Everywhere is dark and just the old larks flying around looking for a place to ride out the storm before the wind picks up speed.
Hundreds of them are flying in the air looking for a place to land but the wind is blowing in different directions. They all hobbled on a in a dense tree trying to escape from the breeze but a category three wind was not strong enough to done them in.
The worst is yet to come, the day has just begun, its eyes are bulging, its body is swelling and its head is enlarging, it is coming out of the mountain and it is approaching the county center ripping up power lines, breaking up houses and tossing boats in the middle of the sea.
It rips through an entire city and flattens every house on the street leaving mud and debris in business places and private residence . I stood above and watch the Rolling Tides creating havoc in the town while the old lark kept flying around.