Cowboy Poetry

By Harold Roy Miller


Stormy, always an inspiration

Lawn Mowers

My happy smile turned into a frown
as I surveyed the barren ground.
Right then and there I conceded,
a beautiful lawn was what I needed.
So I purchased a huge mass
of rolls of sod called 'tiff green' grass.
It was thrilling to watch it grow
until it came time for me to mow.
This lush, thick emerald lawn
suddenly became work and not much fun.
I soon fell into a weekly rut
because of the grass I had to cut.
I'm somewhat of a lazy man,
so I devised a foolproof plan.
I knew horses like to eat
and this grass would be a special treat.
So I put them on the lawn to graze
and filled my time in other ways.
I no longer dread yard work chores
because of my three live lawn mowers.

The Buck Stops Here

This barn sour horse of mammoth design
has tossed me for the very last time.
The warning signs I did not heed
have landed me in this tumbleweed.
She was agitated when she made her pitch,
depositing me in a weed-filled ditch.
Then she headed for home, terminating our ride,
while I gathered up my cowboy pride.
Lots of folks with common horse sense
gave me advice, but I was dense.
They were all correct, it would appear
so it's back to the basics. The buck stops here!



In Memory of Wetarez 1973 - 2004


TO WETAREZ

By C. Ritlaw 1996

Seeing you that fateful day,
So alert, eyes so bright,
Dancing, prancing, spinning ‘round—
I knew in time you'd be alright.
And so our journey thus began,
Though we could not then know
The hours, days, and years we'd share,
The places we would go.
We were young, so much to learn—
Not always seeing eye to eye,
Miles behind us, miles before us,
The years went marching by.
Colors changing as the seasons,
Dapples gone to white,
Steel grey turned to silver
And caught the pale moonlight.
Sharing good times, and the bad,
Scenery changing as the weather,
Youth's foolishness we left behind,
And thus we grew together.
Less swiftly now, and not as far,
And yet we two still travel,
And older now, and somewhat worn,
The road goes on, the miles unravel.
We know not what tomorrow brings—
I pray the trail is straight and true,
I know it will be easier,
As long as it is shared with you.
And someday, when our paths do part,
And when our time on earth is done,
I'll carry you within my heart,
I'll know we'll be again as one.
Our journey will be far from over,
Our mortal cares we'll set aside,
It will be as if we've just begun,
As we traverse the Other Side.

 

closer