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Arena Lights
| Open Poetry #36 |
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Arena Lights |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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My daddy was a cowman from West Texas, My mama was a simple country girl. From "can to can't", is how they lived and labored, Pecos County was the limits of their world. I grew up a hearin' cattle bawlin' And tasting dust with every gust of wind. Pinchin' pennies just to keep food on the table- I swore when I was grown, that that would end. Seventeen, and gangly, when it happened- A distant cousin that I didn't know- Stopped to call on Daddy in his travels, And took me to the Pecos rodeo. I grew up a ridin' broncs and learnin' ropin'- Buildin' fence, and feedin' grain and hay... I never even dreamed while I was learnin' That the skills I gleaned might lead to better pay. My daddy tried to talk me out of leavin' And Mama must have cried might near a week- But the wanderlust, and thirst for glory drew me, They knew that fame and fortune I must seek. I started out on saddle broncs, and rode them Then I tried my hand at buckin' bulls. I always had a middlin' sense of balance, And soon I had my britches pockets full. But time and injuries were hard to battle- And less that fifteen years since I begun- I guess I might as well hang up my saddle, It seems my days of winnin' are all done. Now I'm back just where I was in the beginnin' Straddlin' a horse for meager pay... I dream at night of girls and gold belt buckles, And the fun I had in younger better days. I wouldn't take a million for those mem'ries- I guess that I relive 'em lots of nights, I can almost hear the cheers, and buzzers soundin' I guess I'll always miss arena lights. |
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| © Copyright 2005 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Kaoru
since 2003-06-07
Posts 3892where the wild flowers grow |
My daddy tried to talk me out of leavin' And Mama must have cried might near a week- But the wanderlust, and thirst for glory drew me, They knew that fame and fortune I must seek. I started out on saddle broncs, and rode them Then I tried my hand at buckin' bulls. I always had a middlin' sense of balance, And soon I had my britches pockets full. But time and injuries were hard to battle- And less that fifteen years since I begun- I guess I might as well hang up my saddle, It seems my days of winnin' are all done. Now I'm back just where I was in the beginnin' Straddlin' a horse for meager pay... I dream at night of girls and gold belt buckles, And the fun I had in younger better days. Very awesome write, m'friend. I'm saving this to my library. |
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