| Open Poetry #36 |
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Next Year |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA
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I hear the clock a buzzin' But it's barely light outside. I know I have to hurry... Tonight I have to ride. My entries are in Houston, I'm in San Angelo... In a cut-rate, run-down Motel, With a lot of miles to go. I guess I've hit a cold streak, Been drawing up real bad. That fall I had last April- Used up all the dough I had. Burger deals, and greasy fries- A lot of chips and dip... Sleeping in a roadside park, Almost every trip. Motels when I'm winning- Back seat when I ain't. I'll ride while I'm still able, Till the time comes that I cain't. My story has no moral- Nor wisdom to impart... I guess that I'm just writing, Things that I have on my heart. I called the wife on Tuesday, She sounded mighty down. I guess she's pretty lonely, When I am not around. She's having problems with the well, Our brood mare lost her colt. The television bit the dust, Thank's to a lightning bolt. When she told me that she loved me, She was holding back a tear, I told her, "Things are lookin' up- I'll win it all next year." |
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| © Copyright 2005 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Ever the optomist. Yes sir, you write as good as I think you ride. Real good. ![]() If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Bravo, Cowboy Poet. You never disappoint me. ....jo |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
Anyone that reads this is sure to know that you are the one that sits in the middle, I think you know what I mean... I was a cowboy once when I was young, at leat I thought I was, untill I realized I was the one that always opened the gate.... Enjoyed the poem, GS ----------ice ><> |
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SmartChick Member Rara Avis
since 2001-09-23
Posts 7081On A Journey To The Unknown |
What a wonderful poem. And win, you will. |
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