Cowboy Poetry

Cowboy Poetry

Whether you’re young or gettin’ old
there’s ‘cowboy poetry’ to be told
‘bout those men who rode the range,
some folks thinkin’ it plum’ strange

But, ya might just wanna take a listen,
tho’ tales could cause tear drops to glisten,
stories told of times cowboys lived,
hard work, and carin’ hearts they’d give

Of nights men sat ‘round blazin’ fires,
told windy stories of life’s desires
in a form that may seem odd today,
then, ‘cowboy poetry’ was relaxin’ play

They’d express what happened on the trail,
share with others hardy-hale,
dreams of what the future’d bring
if a wide loop they could only swing

They talked ‘bout critters of all breeds,
in ‘cowboy poetry’, claimed their creeds
to settle land way out west there,
an’ along the way, a sweetheart snare

But sadly, those early days are gone,
tho’ thankfully, their tales live on
as poets tell of the cowboys' plight,
hopin’ they got the stories right…

Tamara Hillman

Love & Passion

Love & Passion

Oh, send a box of love & passion
I’m ready for it now.

Wishing to share,
Willing to be close.

Wanting to be loved,
Needing to be held.

Too long alone,
Too long without.
Barbara B. Baskin 2010
 

A Dying Brain

A Dying Brain

Do you recall how I was once your fire?
And we, a regal cloud of unity
Meandering through the closing blues of night,
Commanding stars to glitter;
Dawn to blush?

Your answer comes in ever-blanking stares:
A wall that blocks the know,
Damping down the glow that used to emanate
From clear and lucid eyes.
They've lost the will to recognize.

But hear! We are fifty years together -
And once we writhed in pleasure -
Drowning in emotion,
That which was our prime.

You don't recall.
You only lie as vegetation
Scattered on the ground:
A living mound of flesh,
Devoid of any neural mesh
To let you say 'I'm sound.'

Don't worry Dear,
For I'm aware with memory!
I'll tell you how we were.
We have our right of history!

If you could just concur.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

Clouds

CLOUDS

Horizons void of clouds
How dull would be the scenery
To know them all by name
A visual adventure to attain,
Altostratus, pileus, cirrus, nimbus
Least we forget the all familiar cumulus,

Who has not gazed in amazement at the magnificent array
Billowy clouds on a perfect day?
Standing on the seashore where clouds meet the sea
Inspire the calmest soul to ecstasy,

Imagination soars as clouds pass by
Images, shapes we find appearing in the sky
What sheer enjoyment is achieved by watching nature's wonder,

Restful, meditative, tranquil
Everlastingly inspirational.

Nancy Ellen Crossland

Missing Piece

Missing Piece

For years I have been fixing this mess of a jigsaw life.
Going through, and studying each piece.
Fitting them in, trying to find my base,
My corners.
And when I saw where something didn’t fit,
I found the problems.
And sorted them out
Things in the wrong place.
Some pieces didn’t fit.
And a few pieces were broken,
And needed to be fixed,
But over the years
I have gotten to the point,
Where it resembles the picture it should.
It is near complete, and I know the gaps.
I can see the shapes of the pieces that need to be found.
But I can’t see them.
I seem to be a piece missing.
I can feel that hole.
But can’t see where the missing piece is.

I am missing a piece.
And it is haunting me
Like a shadow,
That is still seen in the night.

Marc Robinson