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Open Poetry #42
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The Good Old Days
| Open Poetry #42 |
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The Good Old Days |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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A bedroll and my saddle- A pair of Justin boots. A couple pairs of jeans- And thread bare shirts. A thousand miles from Texas, The land which holds my roots, And all that I hold dear, And man it hurts. Flagstaff in the winter, It was nearly twelve below... The wind out of the North, Cut like a knife! I stood beside I Forty- Near dark, and blowing snow... And thought, "This drifting Ain't no kind of life!" I broke into a restroom, To get out of the wind... I thought, "In cold like this- A man could die!" I needed me a riding job- So I'd have dough to spend... The wrong time of the year, But I could try. I found a job near Winslow, Out on the Bar T Bar- Ten bucks a day, my found- A place to sleep... I lived there in that bunkhouse, And thanked my lucky stars- For work to do, a bed- And grub to eat. Those days are gone forever, But I am really glad... I had my chance- Before they went away... I'm glad I rode the deserts, It really makes me sad... I guess I really miss the West... Back in the good, old days. |
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| © Copyright 2008 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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TomMark Member Elite
since 2007-07-27
Posts 2133LA,CA |
wonderful. great spirit of cow boy or sort of. I was thinking the horse, the saddles and the gun when I read your other poem. Here they were. Nice. A western movie.  |
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Gunslinger, This is a nice poem. -- BUT!! The good old days never existed. I don't even want to think about them. Bobby |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA |
You're right, Bobby. I posted a poem to that effect not long ago. I called it "Remembering" |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Life brings its challenges wherever we are ... but it seems natural that we think or dream from some past events that continue to bring emotions. "The good old days" can be referred to in so many ways ... for me i.e. it's the taste and fragrance of fruit and vegetables of our own garden back in Switzerland, which were grown naturally. Now the fruit is packed when not ripe and brought to supermarkets and it doesn't taste the same anymore. But if I had to return to the past to taste wonderful fruit, I would gladly renounce ... there weren't only fragrant strawberries after all! Thank you for another great write! love Margherita |
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Roniece Dawson-Bruce Member Ascendant
since 2000-01-29
Posts 5689Sydney, Australia |
John... I'm sure your memories are precious nonetheless... enjoyed this write of yours... love RDB Be kind at heart....for everyone you meet has their own battle to fight......... |
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
Good Morning, I just woke up and I noticed that I missed yours last night. I am so happy I caught it because I would never wanted to miss this one. I really enjoyed your poem this morning-- Thank you for the good poem read.. ARCTIC WIND |
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Dee Member Elite
since 2000-08-19
Posts 2330Queensland, Australia |
John, nice to read the story from the other side of the coin. Dee |
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Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
I'm glad I rode the deserts, It really makes me sad... I guess I really miss the West... Back in the good, old days. --- I guess I disagree that the 'good old days' did not exist or were not good. Maybe we just didn't realize how good they were and maybe we are creating new "good old days", but just don't know it yet. I love this poem so much. I remember the feel of hot roads under bare feet, no cares, laughing as we headed toward the cold river to swim. The memories I cherish were and are 'good old days' ... they weren't perfect, but they were wonderful times now gone. P.S. I love the desert |
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