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Chances birthday today. Happy birthday Chance!

As you can see, I finally figured out how to upload picture to this site. Maybe I’ll post more as I go along, if you all like them 🙂

Cold one out there the last few mornings. We’ve got about 8 to 10 inches of snow that has accumulated over the past week or so and today is the first day that the wind has blown any. Not real hard out there yet, but it’s going to be a doozy tomorrow, if the predictors are right. Gusts to 50mph! That ought to make a few snow drifts!

I was at a store the other day and I commented on all the wonderful snow we got. A guy who was there ( originally from the eastern part of the state where they get more moisture and it’s usually comes as rain) whined about there not being enough moisture in this snow. I told him that this is what we get and if he didn’t like it, he should go back east, where he came from! Man, I’m gettin’ cranky in my old age. LOL

Anyway, it set me to thinkin’ and I came up with a new poem. Still maybe a little rough around the edges, but I’ll post it here.

Whiners

Why is it that we always hear about
TV and movie stars who whine
they grumble about the paparazzi
the very people who make them shine

They cuss because folks are always intrudin’
wantin’ to know about their life
publishin’ stories and pictures of all their children
and which ones are cheatin’ on their wife

Them politicians, their just as bad
don’t want to answer, any of our questions
and they look so disgusted and dismayed at us
when we offer them any suggestions

Doctors complain when we hold them up
to a higher standard than most
they claim they ain’t really playin’ God
Tho’ bein’ smarter than us is their boast

Attorney’s seem to get plumb defensive
when we joke about one of their kind
But there’s a bit of truth in any humor
and an honest one seems hard to find

Yes, they’ve all sought out fame or fortune
yet they complain, when they’ve met their goal
spoiled brats, don’t want to take the good with the bad
like sinnin’ without hurtin’ your soul

I guess I shouldn’t let it bother me so much
I just get tired of a baby who pouts
like people who want to live and ranch around here
then complain about the winters and droughts

Robert Dennis 02/07

One gentleman who read this asked , “if we whine about whiners, are we whiners?” Yup. LOL

Stay warm!

I have been re-working my rock poem. I sent it off to a wonderful poet who tells me what she thinks. Here is the revised edition, with an additional verse.

Hope you like it.

rock on a hill

there’s a sandstone outcropping on a hill by a creek
fighting the slow erosion of natures careless whims
it has been a silent witness to the passing of ages
watching and listening to the prairies soft hymns

an indian once stood on this wind roughened rock
as he prayed to his god for his tribes way of life
with alien, guttural, beseeching tone
for his tribe, this land, children and wife

a trapper once lay in the shade of this slope
bellied down tight in the grass and the dirt
as he peered over the rock laying there in the soil
ignored the pain and the blood encrusted stain on his shirt

a soldier once climbed to the crest of this hill
reclined on the rock seeking rest for his bones
eavesdropped on his troops by the creek down below
as they wearily set up pickets and tents in hushed tones

a cowboy stepped down at the ridge of this crest
scanned all, from horizon, to the rock down below
watching for the cattle that were under his care
allowing his weary cow horse to stretch and to blow

a homesteader ascended to the top of this ridge
looking for his milk cow who had failed to return
silently cursing this god forsaken land
and the blistering hot sun that made his crops burn

on occasion a rancher will come to this rock
he rests and reflects on the land’s history
wonders if others may have come to this spot
feels tied to the thread of a grand mystery

Robert Dennis 2/07

thoughts? Comments? 🙂

Howdy!

We got a little snow but it has warmed up a bit.

I finally realized that I was missing a bull so Cindy and I drove the place this morning trying to find him and hoping I wouldn’t find him dead somewhere. No luck.

So at noon, I started calling neighbors and found him on the second call. He’d been “visiting” but the neighbor must not have minded feeding him, as he never called to tell me he was there. So I ran the horses in and saddle up Beaver and went and got him. He really didn’t want to leave his new found buddies, but shoot! A little ol’ bull is no match for me and Beaver! LOL

He’s waiting in the corral with feed and water until morning when I will turn him back in with the ladies, seeing as there are a few fall calvers who might need to get bred so they can calve again next fall. He ought to enjoy their company.

I just finished a new poem and sent it off to Beth Ebert who is probably the best poet to ever live in this state and that includes Badger Clark, who was a hell of a poet. Beth is kind enough to critic my work for me and try and help me get it better. Poor lady!

She seem to think this one pasts muster, so I’ll put it on here. Let me know what you think, please.

I came up with the last verse of this poem years ago and tried to craft a poem around it, but was never satisfied. Must have the poetic juices flowing again, so I gave it another shot. I’m pretty happy with it. Hope you enjoy it

Specters

Others came before
with stories galore
before we rode these hills
With gumption and grit
too dry to spit
their lives a battle of wills

To try and overcome
not to succumb
to the perils that rule this land
They trod a hard road
carried a heavy load
but still thought their life was grand

You can feel their stares
as you ride unawares
yet never quite bring them in sight
Like a mote in your eye
or a raindrop that’s dry
or the breeze when a bird has took flight

They don’t mean to frighten
or even enlighten
those of us who pass this way
Just wish for the past
before the die was cast
when they too ruled the day

They lived this life
full of cowboy strife
fought blizzards, drought and fire
So they watch us close
as we take our daily dose
see if we are brave or a liar

They are proud of what we do
know that we are the few
who will attemp the cowmans trial
They’re the spectors of the plains
hanging onto the reins
they’re the legends who watch us and smile

Robert Dennis 2/07
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