Tales from the O-NO Ranch
Another year has just jetted by and I struggle to remember all that I said or did that would merit much (if any) attention at all. It was not a banner year, as I remember years of that gender in the past. A good part of its failure to measure up for me could be of my own making.
The following poem may throw you at first, but in the end there is redemption if you grasp the full meaning of my wanderings in these verses.
The Common Headed Bay
The poet may struggle at times
for words of depth
And meaning that rhyme.
If his heart is restless
with pain and despair
The right words always come
and begin to repair.
Repair the broken levee
of flooding thoughts that lay so heavy.
At times, a day is just cast away,
It was normal to average,
it had nothing to say.
A day that harbours abundant joy
or a measure of despair
Will be held close and examined
with great care,
For it is that day that the poet lives
To receive the bread and water
That the day freely gives
Too soon, too many average days
are cast aside,
Like a common headed bay
that no one desires to ride.
When comes the time
that time is no longer on the poet’s side,
He looks for that common headed bay,
but he is no more there to ride
Somewhere, every day an Eagle flies
Somewhere, every day an old man dies
Today is that day, the common headed bay
Consider it with great care
And cast it not away.
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion,
and I’ll c. ya.
Start a dialogue, stay on topic and be civil.
If you don't follow the rules, your comment may be deleted.
User Legend: Moderator Trusted User
From June through September, John Etchart spends most of the day driving a tractor through hayfields below the mountains near Meeker in northwestern Colorado.