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Tom Guilliams Poem
after playing ball the contestants make there way to the draw wall.
Felling sore from the ride before. no one knows whats in store.
Justin took quite the fall, carson gets his horse out of her stall.
they check in with the doc. and he suggests they stretch and go for a walk.
as kevin rolls in, no one knows where hes been
Gene is having a really great year, as he celeabrates with yet another beer
wes made the top five, hes starting to feel the vibe.
coch kelly, always clean and proper, was once quite the show stopper
the team sits around the table for lunch, as the pep tlak goes out to the bunch
tonight is the last of the season, as kevin pops a choclate reisen.
some will move on, some will stay, its not the ride its livin for the day
Rodeo is not about being the best, its about your lifes quest
two hours before the show and just going with the flow
wes and carson play with there ropes, as kevin looks for the saddle soap
gene checks his cinch, as justin pulls some snuff and takes a pinch.
kelly is busy shaking hands, as people start to fill the stands.
grand entry rolls in and the energy is felt throughout the pen
the anthem is played and the prayer is sent, who will make the rent
the hosres are loaded and ready to go, with the intry of funny man joe
grand entry has left and the cowboy is set, with the swing from the gate there off
like a jet.
Dreams are made and dreams will fade with every entry fee paid.
gene gets set his eyes are cold and hes destined to have a buckle full of gold
carson wrestles his steer and blows a knee, the crowd rises to see
justin slides up on his rope and feels just right, for hell make the ride of his life
tonight....
The show is over and the stock is fed we are thankfull noone is dead
reality is set and buckles are handed out, for some this is what their life is about
for some college rodeo has come to an end, but there is an open rodeo around
the bend.
sad but true this season is over, but not to worry, its just another beginning for
mr.Slover.
Copyright © Tom Guilliams | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Tom Guilliams Poem
Just off the san pedro river,
where the catfish only hit on liver.
Lies a stock pond full of fish,
where some come to make a wish.
it takes about an hour to drive,
you'll soon find out only the strong survive.
Now make a left at the tree,
and the fun will start, you'll see.
dont forget to lock the gate,
dont worry about the bait.
now cross the field,
and try not to get killed.
stear clear of the log,
its the home of the barking dog.
stay low and dont make a sound,
for the owner may be lurking around.
just when you think your here,
watch out for the proud cut steer.
not much further now,
and I was just kidding about the cow.
You got this far, you've done well,
i know you think this is hell.
one more obstacle you must pass,
watch out for snakes in the grass.
if your will to take this mission,
dont ever ask the owners permission.
is it free? I think not,
and dont worry if you hear a shot.
always enter from the rear,
dont forget to bring some beer.
so grab your truck and your pole,
and we'll see you at the fishin' hole.
Copyright © Tom Guilliams | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Tom Guilliams Poem
It sat way back in a thicket of of pine and oak
with the roof falling in and all the windows broke.
with brush as tall as the roofs eve,
to find this one could not believe.
I was chasing down this ferro calf,
as I went to dally, the rope snapped in half
dazed from the rope that bounced off my head
and hoping that would die, just left me seeing red
heading back to grab a new rope
is when my horse broke from his lope
he must have seen the same reflection as i
i saw the house, i thought who built here and why
I walked in just to check things out
all hand crafted furniture, they sure made em' stout
kicking though the dirt, was an old pair of spurs
aged from time i could only make out the word her's
an old letter, newspaper and the spurs was all i took
as i rode away i gave the ole house one last look
just as i left the canyon, i swear i heard a girl cry....
and only for that instant, my throat had went dry...
feeling uneasy about taking what was not mine
i searched for hours and could not find that thicket of pine
it was as if the house was not there
then a coyote cry came from nowhere..........
back at camp, I didn't know what to say
that old spanard saw the spurs and rode away.
yelling something about a cry from above
and never mess with true love.........??????
to this day i do not venture out,
my foot that kicked up that spur, is infested with gout.
everytime I look at those spurs
I hear the cry that must be her's...........
Copyright © Tom Guilliams | Year Posted 2006
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