once there was a horseman, with a quarter horse knitted to his back,
grey Stetson, tilted back so sunshine bristled on his brow
smoke escaping from his nose
wild horses galloping out of his mouth
a bit of bellicose brag reined in for his woman
who parked her pointer finger, sideways
above her eagle eyes to search his horizon
but, oh, in the back rooms of the wheat elevator
chaff sidestepping on stray sunbeams
running a ragged race to tell the tallest story
of finest thoroughbred thoughts, running
against the next best for their trophy
none of them had been in a saddle for years
but their gnarled stories recalled the pull
of a pioneer wagon behind plow horses
and a white sail across the prairies,
over the rocky passes, when they were yearlings
to married life and a mention of free land
it was never free grandfather
you broke your back to it, and her,
with her wilds dreams of a hoe and hearth
and baking bread in a real oven, raising children
under a well-shingled roof, and forcing a garden
out of hard earth while the mares foaled
and she did, to add weight to this new place
half-broke geldings scuffed fresh riders
off in the branches of the poplar boundary
of the farm-turned-ranch you two carved
out in the country you landed boots first in
where the muck of milk cows waited
on promised hay and a gentle hand
while you rode off into dust to dust
I hold it, here, the deed of fine land
ownership of a generation of foals,
pictures of a young man and a woman
astride similar star-faced, half-starved mounts
frozen and leaning against a rotted corral
waiting for the click of tongue to roof of mouth
to race back with its memories
I hold the sweater to my face and feel the prickly heat
of stubble that has been chewed down by the equine teeth
of packing a heart into hard trails made by man and horse
until I rock in the saddle hanging on to your back
like a princess being saved by a knight of necessity
your voice sings, “Oh, Give Me A Home”, and the hill hears it
memorizes the meanings of a man made from sway-back
stories of riding a rough range to make a tall tale
for a green-broke granddaughter riding
a saddle-like porch swing all the way to your stalled heaven
Author notes
kickstarted by "Porch Song" by onerios13
In a list
A contest entry
- Pick a Poet(CONTEST FOR FREEVERSE, new inspiration) by FindingFate.
650 points, ended December 26, 2006, 9 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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I shall always be that green-broke granddaughter.
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I am once again amazed at the amount of visual effect you have created. This is a stunning piece; full of imagery. Thank you again for such an entry...Trina
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Well I love my horses and i could fairly smell the manure in this lol (Pardon the pun) This has so many visuals in it that you get lost in the sounds of hooves and lands of forefathers. I enjoyed it immensely. Native American pride singing in this and a tinge of sadness too.
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yes
much is lost to the past...but what is brought into today and tomorrow is what has the most worth...to have his stories and his character...is to make sure his memory, and the memory of othr such men, will never die.
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I love this...such a homey feeling...simply beautiful...Trina
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thank you, finding fate...to read my poetry to is to know me...and to know those that loved me into being.
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Mind swirls in torrents of talent
You just know because of me and mine growing up with horseflesh I'm lovin this one! A grand scale tale of the American west growth and survival penned within.People from other nations look at us as gifted by fate spoiled twits! They don't know the hard backbreaking efforts that were nessisary in building this sociaty's level of living.America didn't come about without great sacrifice.And who knows this better than a Native American I dare say? You've penned a masterful piece sista sweet!I adore this.~~Suseann
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the love for that man has stayed with me in my darkest hours...everything about the man spoke Love. Thank you for your comments. Thank you for watching my poems progress through these years, my friend.
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