Marshall Dillon in Gunsmoke
Clint Eastwood as Rowdy Yates in Rawhide
Paladin Have Gun will Travel
John Wayne in bunches of westerns
the pattern was easy....
The cowboys always win
Hero wears a light hat
Villain is stuck with black hat
Indians never win
TV in the 60’s gave me new terms
Dance hall girl, sage brush, wagon train
I reminisce about the wild west I know
Categories:
sage brush, technology,
Form: Free verse
A sagebrush is a subshrub with bitter juice.
A sage is a mature or venerable person of sound judgment.
BITTERNESS
O bother and surrender!
Bitterness, I tell to hush.
The devil’s a mind bender,
but God’s an artist with a sage brush.
3/22/2022
Contest: Lind30 Rhyme
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
HMS
Categories:
sage brush, wisdom,
Form: Verse
Whispers in the morning
trying to find your way
listen to the bluebird
and what she has to say
The notes are soft and gentle
every one is played for you
the sounds of sweet ambrosia
her feelings ringing true
On painted limbs of sage brush
there's a stillness in the air
love beads are melting
and the bluebird disappear
Whispers in the morning
what once was there is gone
empty is the meadow
off has flown her song
Categories:
sage brush, absence, bird, blue, lost,
Form: Rhyme
A lady of the earth
Herbs candles and rebirth
All is good
All is well
Oils and incense
A healing smell
Sage brush burning
to cleanse her home
in her yard
resides a gnome
fairies crystals
and beautiful flowers
she meditates
for many hours
love and light and
blessed be
this is what
she wishes for thee
Categories:
sage brush, nature
Form: Rhyme
Wichita Flats was
a town that was once
out west long ago.
Just a sage brush
or two is all
that remains now.
Dance halls thrived
there from one
end of town to the next.
A Cyclone came to
town one day,
carried the town,
clear across Kansas
and beyond, now
Wichita Flats rests
at top of Pikes Peak,
for all to see.
written 4-23-11
Categories:
sage brush, fantasy, imagination
Form: Free verse
Heat turns the Prairie into waves like an ocean.
Churin’ grass in a rollin’ fluid motion.
As the wind blown waves crossest an ember sea,
An’ the Sage Brush bends without a knee.
Heat draws moisture an’ pools it on the horizon.
The Prairies’ floor cracks as heat vapors are arisin’.
Hypnotized by the rhythmic moan of a windmill,
Tumbleweeds roll; an’ roll by still.
Like stars, thoughts, fill the skies of my head,
An’ age more than broken bones, I dread.
As time covers the many moons of my passions,
An’ the sun sets on the wrecks an’ the crashin’s.
Nod my head, my thoughts’ stampede,
I jerk an’ spur with a grip of greed.
When I’m off my hand on the inside of plum,
It’s hard to figure what-for or how-come.
Snot blows past me, an’ sticks to my shirt,
Off from his hide, flies eyes full of dirt.
I yank my wrap an’ step off on the ground,
I’ve made the 90 club an’ the next round.
By Jim “Ish” Fellers
Copyright ©: July 2, 2004 ~ Friday
Categories:
sage brush, cowboy-western
Form: Cowboy Poetry