FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

108

Linda Hussa

I have learned to reach into the sacred womb Grasp a placid hoof And coax life towards this certain moment. (from "On a Clear, Cold Calving Night"). We who are content living scattered We who have grown used to the tension of the wind We who lift our corner of the sail have the plain faces of time. (from "Quiet Land").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

109

Jesse Ballantyne

I felt the stirring passions of men of range and rope. And rode toward my destiny with wonder and with hope. (from "Winter Camp"). ...Some make it look easy but a kid has to learn that being a cowboy is something you earn... (from "Holdin' the High Ground").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

110

Janine Haig

Miracles do not exist, I've learned to live through pain for sometimes there's no answer to a prayer... (from "Dear Becky"). He can't be gone, he promised me that he would mow the lawn, he promised he would be here when our baby boy was born, he promised he'd be careful, so I know there's some mistake-- (from "Not Gone").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

111

Les and Locke Hamilton "Prickly Pair"

I've lost some pards and it was hard to leave 'em buried there with wooden staves, on shallow graves, a puncher's dread and fear. (from "An Old Puncher's Prayer"). I will ever wonder why A creature who can paw the sky, one so strong and one so free Would be so kind to carry me. (from "Pony Tracks").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

112

Jon Chandler

Weathered eye follows a gravel road With a sigh, the radials roll I am gone to search for the Mother Lode A new dawn, a sepia soul (from "My Last Stand"). His boots are by the bed, his hat hangs on the wall and the 45's in the closet down the hall; His vision's almost gone, but his mind is filled with hues that took over 90 years to learn to use (from "The Plain of Ilium").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

113

Jon Chandler

Out west of Laramie the wind helps me forget Though she stopped wanting me her memory hasn't yet (from "Out West of Laramie"). They lay him down below the prairie to nourish the land that he loved Unfulfilled promise, no grace from above Fate is a jealous lover and hard lives leave harsh goodbyes (from "Hard Lives & Harsh Goodbyes").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

114

Sue Wallis

Hancock horses...perfect wives dear mother laughed and said, "Hard-headed buckers tough to break big in the hind end, and mostly ugly in the head. (from "Hancock Compliments"). But, the circle has turned, and the cycle is broken, and we're grateful that trouble don't stay... And we laugh...God, we laugh... as we feed what we have and we pitch out the last precious hay. (from "Renaissance").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

115

Sue Wallis

These cattle, horses, grass and sky dance and dance and never die-- they circle through the realms of air and ground and empty spaces where a human being can join the song-- can circle, too, and not go wrong... (from "Cattle, Horses, Sky and Grass").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

116

Randall J. Rieman

For our spirits are one, though our friendship began only just a few hours ago. The things that we share, and the feeling that's there, are more lasting and precious than gold. (from "A Rare Find"). ...These autumn days we cherish while our youth is on display, are the ones we know we'll long for when we're burdened down with age... (from "Leaving Camp").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

117

Randall J. Rieman

Little hope I harbored really, and that hope seemed hoped in vain, yet I knew the smallest spark could set a forest into flame. (from "Half Empty Half Full"). What remains is but a remnant, scattered pockets, those are few, but we love her just as dearly as you did the west you knew. (from "Paper Talk").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

118

John C. Dofflemyer

...And upon a granite slab of mortar rock beside the Buckeye's sinewed fingers, rust leaves dripped as women talked. Nothing went to waste, not even thought. (from "Still in the Mountains"). We are an island here. Even the tourists see profitable possibilities beyond the barbed wire. Bathrooms. Campsites. Insect repellant and ice. (from "Island").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

119

John C. Dofflemyer

...And we follow the echoes of cycles like cattle to the hay truck. (from "Now That We Are Old"). He'll be the first to say that there's no way it'll ever pencil-- but we all know just how much he loves those cows. (from "Glenn Dooley").

Scattered, Lasting Remnants: "Fine Lines" of Poetry and Song

Echo Klaproth

FC 11 K-25

120

Rolf Flake

The lightning's red glare, thunder boomin' in air-- Man-made rockets just can't compare To the "real thing" engineered from above-- Fireworks with a celestial flare! (from "Celestial Fireworks"). Some city folks--they cuss the rain It messes up their weekend. But us ranch-raised folks are different 'Cause on rain our life depends. (from "Thanks For The Rain").

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

5

Rhoda Sivell

Come With Me To The Old Range

Come with me to the old range Just for an hour or so; You'll hear the call of the range stock And the voice of the Chinook blow. Blowing down o'er the wind-swept hills Where the pups of the grey wolf play And their dens lie deep in the hidden steep Of the cut-banks far away.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

9

Rhoda Sivell

Calgary, "Queen of The Golden West"

I NEVER loved the city life, The range looks so good to me; But the City of the Golden West Is good old Calgary. The boys all talk about her, And tell you she's a queen. She's big and splendid like the plain; She hates what's small and mean.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

11

Rhoda Sivell

The Old Saskatchewan

Down where the river is winding Its deep and lonely way, By coulee and cut-bank surrounding, The dark Saskatchewan lay. And far below in the distance, Where the river flats looks still, And the smoke of an Indian teepee Rises up from a far-off hill.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

13

Rhoda Sivell

The Wolf Hunter

At the dark of evening, when the shadows fall Out across the bad lands, you can hear them call, Calling for the round-up for their evening prey. Ah, the horses hear them; how they bunch and neigh!

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

15

Rhoda Sivell

The Chinook

The moon across the hills rose cold last night, And o'er the snow she shed her silvery light; The snow birds shivered in the willows bare, And all the plain was wrapped in wintry air. As dawn waws breaking o'er the prairie wild, A whisper came, a whisper soft and mild, That, from the great Pacific, far away, A Chinook warm was stealing on its way.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

17

Rhoda Sivell

My Prairie Flower

Lithe as a reed that the wind doth blow, And graceful in form was she; Her eyes that shone like the stars of night When she lifted them up to me. A face like the rose in summer-time, Fresh from a summer's shower; Do you wonder that I loved her, My own little Prairie Flower?

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

19

Rhoda Sivell

Little Joe

Just a little ranch shack By the river's brink, Trees all growing round it-- Let me stop and think-- Standing in the doorway Was a halfbreed child; Only four was little Joe; Clean, though dark and wild.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

22

Rhoda Sivell

The Outlaw

Just a cowboy outlaw, hunted like a thief, Came he to my ranch door, asking for relief. How well I remember on a summer's day, Just a cowboy outlaw I could give away. Just a cowboy outlaw with a boyish face, Dark eyes flashing fearlessly, and such reckless grace; Asking me for shelter, but I knew just them, Up the river yonder were six mounted men.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

27

Rhoda Sivell

Happy Days

The bells in the town are ringing, 'Tis Christmas time, we know; But not a sound of the bells we hear Out across the shifting snow. Across the wind-swept prairie, Where the wild chinook winds blow.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

29

Rhoda Sivell

Turned Loose

The wild birds are singing in the willows by the hills, And the horses' hoofs are ringing on the plain; The range calves are calling to their mothers by the creeks, And the cows are answering back to them again.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

31

Rhoda Sivell

My Ranch Home

Before I went away I thought all trails were golden, That led beyond the trails that I could see, But now I find the old familiar highways Around my home are fairer now to me.

Voices From the Range

FC 11 S-34

33

Rhoda Sivell

The Broncho Buster

He came up from old Mexico. I couldn't rightly say What was his nationality, But I'll tell the tale this way: I think he was half Spaniard; And he spoke the language swell; Black was his hair and curly, And black were his eyes as well.