His Pa was all about "What good can you do for the farm?"
like believin' in a dream was ever gonna do no harm?
All he wanted was a reason to believe he mattered just for who he was!
He said "I'm shakin' off this ol' farm's dust.
For all I care that goddam plow can rust!"
He hit the road,survived the way young boys get passed around,
then made it back to Texas, took a job for "scratch and found."
'said, "This is where I came from, this is what life meant for me all along."
His days were in the saddle and the sweat.
His nights were tears that he could never let.
"Whatever I am, cowboy's in my blood
through rain an' shame an' guts an' pride an' mud.
What I left behind that wasn't lettin'
me be just who I am...that needs forgettin'!"
He took his turn at breakin' in the rough-stock
an' the foreman sized him up against the time-clock
and told him, "Son, there's talent there inside ya that ya better not ignore!"
'cause sure enough, there weren't no way to hide it.
If it had fur and four legs, he could ride it!
So he gave twenty years (and half his body's bones)
to blood, gold buckles and nights spent alone
spent wond'rin' if he'd ever see the big time, and wond'rin' if it mattered.
'cuz as long as he could hear them cheers, he'd thrive.
That's all it took to know he was alive!
The dust of the arena tasted just like the corral
but there was a new flavor when the crowd would whoop an' yell!
the broncs had that same rhythm, an' he broke as many bones
but at least he knows who he is, even if he's still unknown.
© MMVIII eric lee
Author notes
The first thing I noticed about the example work was the structure, which I felt I just had to try to emulate for this contest.
For the rest, well...everyone has a different story, a different "where I came from" and a different "where I'm bound"
A brief look at terminology:
a job for "scratch and found." In cattleman's parlance, he took a job as a wrangler, working for a minimal wage, room and board and a small bonus for every stray he rounded up and branded.
"his turn at breakin' in the rough-stock" On a cattle ranch, often the horses used to ride herd are bought in a half-wild condition and trained to the saddle right there on the ranch. This job is taken in rotation by the various wranglers until and unless one of 'em shows enough talent at it to be assigned to it full-time. Our hero (actually, me...this is an autobiographical work) took his turn and found he had a talent for staying on the back of a bronc.
A contest entry
- she said, 'but i thought clara was a blonde' by Suzanne Dia.
3500 points, ended April 18, 2008, 7 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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You have a poet's soul Dericlee. I wish I could write like this. It is an inspiration for me to try and write something like this myself. I think I'll have to work very hard though! I am going to award you 3 of these funny looking chaps with their hands up.
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Made me think of the pasture at my granny's...
Anyway, this hits pretty close to home. And it was even better when I imagined Lorne Green reading it in one of his ballads. -
I think this is about my favorite that i've read of your works yet.
Great job. I really loved the first stanza.
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I wonder what it would be like to be a cowboy. I think I would worry about being alone a lot. And the fact that I wouldn't be allowed to cry...well...I don't know how I'd handle that.
Have you ever written an actual autobiography? It would be amazing to read, I'm sure, even if many wouldn't read it. I know I would.
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This would not have worked without rhyme.
You had a dangerous job. But it sounds like you really loved it. And
..hey, you even survived it.
I like this a lot, Eric.
Thanks (as always) for entering.
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...and thanks (as always) for the inspiration!
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Even though the story is different, I can see that you maintained the same structure like you said in your author notes. This story was inspiring. I wonder what it would be like to be found and sure that you are where your supposed to be like that. It'd be worth the blood and the broken bones for all those cheers and excitement! You have written this with talent and you've set a high bar for the others in this contest. Good luck to you!
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Hi, Sarah...thanks for your comment.
It's odd, though...the thing that struck me in reading the original is that my story really WASN'T different. Both speak of beginnings that held them back, and of a desperate, final departure from those beginnings.
Both speak of an interval after, in which extreme abuse occurred and had to be overcome. (She was left bleeding in a bathtub...he was passed around while trying to hitch-hike to his ancestral home. Perhaps I left the meaning of 'passed around' a bit vague...but some nightmares don't need to be revisited TOO closely.)
...and both speak of reaching a place and a person who showed them a talent within, and a way to let that talent shine out.
Yeah...one's a guy and one's a gal; one's ballet and one's bareback bronc. Still...isn't the story really the same one?
It was those samenesses that made me want to employ much the same structure, but that similarity of structure, to me, is the least of what's the same between the two.
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