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Open Poetry #43
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Bid for Eight
| Open Poetry #43 |
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Bid for Eight |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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Coins dropped in the pay phone- Make a lonely sound. Calling home to check on things. After the last go-round. I finished in the money... Just barely so it seems... Instead of eating steak tonight... I’ll feast on Pork and Beans. Then I’ll crawl in my old pickup truck And head on down the road. No way that I could finish well, The first night I got throwed. Rodeo and broken dreams... Seem my lot in life... And nothing’s ever like it seems- I guess I lost my wife. “So why not quit?” you ask me. Why rodeo’s my breath- My very cause of being... I’ll do it till my death. The only time I feel alive- Is when they pull the gate... I set my spurs, and ride him high And make my bid for eight. |
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| © Copyright 2008 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
I love the bullriders. When I was a kid, I wanted to ride bulls. My big brother did, but girls weren't allowed. I love your rhythms and the emotion you evoke with these songs you write. Nan (Pilgrim variety) |
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RevengeIsMine Senior Member
since 2006-07-08
Posts 820Australia |
WOW.. I'm a born country girl who now lives in the big bad city.. I miss the rodeo's... The smell of fresh manure and the crushing of bones under a bull.. Your poem is beautiful.. Absouletly Breathtaking.. Makes me miss the country. |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Glad to see you back, John. Missed your stories. Ida |
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