Details |
Samantha Jepson Poem
Things come and things go,
but life always moves on.
A little girl stood by a grave,
head bowed,
tears flowed.
Her father set his hand on her shoulder,
And told he told her
Things come, And things go,
But everday we find more to love,
Never replacing what was lost,
But never fear to fall in love,
The pain of loss will come,
The pain of loss will go
Copyright © Samantha Jepson | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Samantha Jepson Poem
A horse walked in the ring,
Alone but bold,
A man hollered to move him around,
His tail held high and his neck bowed,
He snorted and bucked in defiance.
The epitome of a spirited beast,
He looked every bit a stallion.
No one bid,
But save on gal,
A tiny thing who most thought a fool,
At least on that day.
But as time went on,
That horses spirit never caved.
But the girl was patient,
And kind,
After a long time that horses will bent,
He was defiant and spirited still,
No mistaking the Stallion he was,
But save for one small girl,
to whom he gave his heart to.
And day after day,
He willingly rode with her,
Over mountain and field,
After cow and game.
He loved her you see-and she loved him.
And after a time,
she went back to that auction ring,
And with her was that Wild beast
Wild still or so it seemed,
As he snorted and bucked freely.
But no worries-he wasn't for sale.
He was to be a father this year,
He'd earned the right,
And when she stepped in that ring,
No defiance was seen.
As he bowed his head and silently gave to her,
Their will seemed unified.
She flowed upon his back,
And he stopped spun and slid
Like an invisible hand guided him,
No movement of the crowd was seen.
It was true beauty in motion,
A Girl and her horse- One
Suddenly they all wished they'd seen what she'd seen,
Not a horse to be broken,
But a spirit to be fixed.
A partner she saw,
Not something to be controlled.
All crave this with their horses,
Dogs and loved ones too,
But rarely can it be found,
Too busy trying to break them,
We fail to join them.
Copyright © Samantha Jepson | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Samantha Jepson Poem
I'm a religous man, but I don't go to church
I tried a few times,
They said I wasn't welcome in the clothes I wore,
I smelled of horse, my boots tracked mud.
The Good Lord, apparently, likes His church folk clean
I Smiled as sweet as can be,
And told those folks that was just fine with me.
I rode everyday in the Lords house,
The wide open range.
I was welcome there,
Wether I had showered that day or not.
And everyday, I felt the Lord whisper in my ear,
Through a soft breeze.
I heard Him answer my prayers,
I saw what they had never seen,
Witnessed the Lord start life,
Bring it forth,
And usher it back out again.
I saw the wisdom in living the Lord gives,
and I saw beauty beyond compare.
I rode beside those who judged not,
And judged them not myself.
I told them clean church folk,
I respect the Lords house,
But I doubted it was He who refused me for want of good clothes,
I saw Him everyday,
and everyday He welcomed me,
beneath warm sun and endless sky.
But I would ask Him,
when my time came,
if His house was as clean as all that.
Perhaps I'd put in a good word for those who'd refused me,
in their ignorance.
The Lords house is everywhere,
I may not be indoors when I pray,
But that just cuts the confusion,
With no ceiling to muffle my prayers.
I'm a religous man,
But no church do I call mine,
But the Lords wide open spaces,
The beauty he created,
No man made structure cases my prayers,
and to no man do I bow,
But everyday the Good Lord finds me in awe of his creation,
An appreciation many folks fail to find indoors.
Copyright © Samantha Jepson | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Samantha Jepson Poem
A tall man waited,
His woman was gone.
She had a travellers itch,
The need to move,
She never settled down.
Working hard,
she was a true cowgirl
Worth the wait he always said.
She hit town after town, lived in her truck
He waited, kept the house at home.
One day she came,
She looked at him,
and then she knew.
He said your traveling days are over,
Your workin time is done.
No matter how many hours you log,
how far you go,
the work is never done.
So come stay with me,
Be my partner
My best freind.
She smiled and said ok.
Her workin days were over,
she missed the time of
Open feilds, and rangy cattle,
The smell of a brandin fire.
But She'd not trade in a single day
With that man she'd loved.
They had a home, a baby,
A couple real good dogs.
She loved him, and he loved her,
And a home they'd finally made.
And he said she was worth the wait,
And she said she'd found what she'd been searching for.
Copyright © Samantha Jepson | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Samantha Jepson Poem
When you look at me,
I see me
I see your father,
your grandparents,
looking back at me.
I see such wisdom,
for one so young in age.
I see a baby in need of care and protection,
My baby.
Yet I also can see the seeds of a great man,
who someday I hope to live to see.
Independent,
bold,
but still a tad unsteady
You strike out on your own.
Still you turn to me for assurance,
And in that I see a child still,
But not for long.
When you look at me,
I see you.
Copyright © Samantha Jepson | Year Posted 2007
|