Kewl Dudes, Dogies, and Dudettes

I saw you there, 

leaning on the guy wire

of the telephone pole,

never taking your gaze away

from where they will come.

I know you saw me

snap your picture.

I wasn't sneaky.

It even took me a few frames 

to get the light just right.

James Dean would have been proud.

Not a foot away,

sitting in the shade,

an unusual sight.

Beanie hat,

looking more 

like he should be

at a hippie gathering,

or maybe a Beatnik coffee house.

Everyone waiting, waiting, waiting.

I turn the corner.

Another one.

Super, Duper Kewl Cowboy Dude,
leaning up against the fence.
Waiting for them to come.
Camera ready.
Looking for just the right pose.

"Are they coming?
Are they coming yet?"
Little girls with big boots,
and even bigger hats,
wait too.

FINALLY
they arrive, being led
by the Calvary.

and cowboys,

and cowgirls, 
and more.

To my amazement,
they are so young.
I expected grown up cattle.
Not little steers.
I guess they won't give
the Greenhorns who have paid
big bucks
for a chance to channel
their inner cowboy
a hard time on the three day trail.
Complete with a gourmet chuck wagon.

Slowly they saunter past.
Poor little dogies
 are so tired.
They need a rest.
It's been a long drive,
very soon they 
get to retire.

The kewest of kewl dudes
brings up the rear.
Gets the whole
parade wound up
and
past the fairgrounds gates.

"Dad, let's go! I can't wait !!!"

All this means, only one thing,

Rodeo's in town, 

Cowboys 'n Hats 
Abound !!! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2cFji4CmHE

BIG P.S. .....this was an unfinished post from June, 2013...

weird to read in November, but here nonetheless !!!

ENJOY

The Dream

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

He dreamt her

in black and white.

Feathers float

softer

as the light strikes.

Sullen, 

he lurks in the dark.

Await.

Yearning to capture

the essence

of her soul.

Undaunted,

she 

caracoles.

Luminous

only 

for 

herself.

A poem created for 

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2013/11/mag-193.html

Thank you Tess, for another wonderful visual inspiration.

Willow Manor Ball

I arrive in my customary style,

cloaked,

masked,

showing off

my 

best

assets.

I prefer to sashay about

as if 

in a 

swashbuckling

stupor.

I accept the gloved

invitation.

The brandy went

straight

to

my

head.

I danced 

in

color.

I was spied upon

by

Raven

Women.

The attention 

made me

grow

bold.

Some disapproved

of my

choice

of

dance

partners.

Others were

simply

gallant.

Perhaps, even

celebratory.

I ended my evening,

romancing

the

stone.

My stamina

all

spent,

I wing

my

way

home.

Thank you, Tess, for the invite to the Annual Willow Manor Ball.

'Twas a night to remember.

Happy Birthday to Us !!!!

For more Willow Ball stories, check out:

http://www.willowmanor.blogspot.com/2013/10/willow-manor-ball-2013.html

Instructions to Bird Girls

artwork by Jeanie Tomanek 

Don't be seduced

by cooing bird songs.

They have showy feathers for a reason.

Don't let your taste for the exotic

 hidden in hard objects

lead you into dangerous territory.

Once cracked,

they often bleed.

Don't climb so high

you cannot set your feet on the ground.

Your feathery wings are yet nubile,

much more for show.

A hard landing will snap

more than 

your sweet, lovely bones.

This poem was inspired by The Magpie Tales #184. 

Thanks Tess, for another opportunity to see what lurks within.

For anyone wanting more interpretations from this prompt, visit

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/ 

She Fretted

For years

fear held her captive

as she walked

the long, dingy corridor.

Sweat beaded her forehead

and soaked her fine, gauze dress.

Drenching her in

ITS fetid stench.

"I must escape

this dungeon

of my own making,"

she pined to the floor.

Turning away,

she trod slowly, steadily,

head no longer bent.

Gleaming, she arose

from the inner sanctum

where she'd gathered

 instruments of transformation.

This time 

striding purposefully, forcefully

towards the door.

Eyes no longer focused on the lock.

She forged her escape.

Columns of color 

trailed along familiar pathways,

until, unbidden,

her heart leapt itself upside down.

She had done it,

freed herself from the past.

This poem was written for Magpie #172 

To visit more incredible poets visit

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

Whispers, Carousels, Lollipops and Balloons !!!!

Anyone who knows me

knows I love to play with color.

"If it sits still, mom will paint it!"

my daughter warns anyone 

who enters

the household.

I can't argue.

It's true !!!

*****************************************************************

Yesterday, during a dull

dreary, winter morn,

faint whispers of creativity beckoned me, 

"Come." 

"You have a craving for color, we see."

Threads of ether connect us three.

My ears perked up, "Yes, I think you are correct!"

"You know it feeds your soul, dig deep

and you will connect."

I have learned to listen to the small whispers,

and follow their cue, 

so off to the garage I flew!

I headed into the depths,

began rummaging through,

my not-so-secret stash,

peering into tubs with a view.

I grabbed handfuls of paint tubes,

wearing my favorite hues, 

 then hastened to

my makeshift studio,

to create a doodle-do.

I plopped down the pirate booty,

 perky conduits of color.

They scampered willy-nilly

hoping, I think, 

to confuse and confound her.

Then feverishly, I set to work.

"I won't be undone. You are the Best, 

the Brightest,

and now our work has begun!"

Queen Canvas of Ply Board,

all primed with wonder,

anxiously awaited

her concert of color.

I squinty-eyed the silent tubes

then finally pronounced,

"Who wants to be birthed?

Who is truly, completely ready 

to prance about?"

Iridescent White was first 

to whisper a plea,

"Pick Me! Pick Me!

PLEASE let it be me!!!

I squirted a blob onto fresh, apple green,

grabbed a fan brush,

then swirled, and twirled...

until she danced supreme.

My excitement grew.

Color by color began to squawk.

Light Blue, Dark Blue 

blurted from their tubes

"We're Luscious Lollipops and 

Bouncy Balloons!"

Light Red, Dark Red 

not to be undone,

shouted from their metal jackets,

"We want to be Big, Bigger, Biggest.

We will be second to NONE!"

Pretty Pink

whispered a perky line or two,

"Let me play,

Let me play,

I can bounce like a balloon too!"

Sunset Yellow entered with a trumpet blast,

"Paint me, Paint me, I want to be LAST!"

And with Sun setting atop a whole carousel tune,

I bid you all goodnight.

I bid you adieu.

"Thank you. Thank you 

for playing,

you're fun. 

My

Tints with a Tune

our dance is now done!"

copyright

Sharon Weir

Come Little Sister

Come little sister,

I'll hold your hand.

Let's go together,

into the far land.

 

Our dreams await us,

excitement builds.

 

Skips and giggles,

I'll share with you.

 

Hold long little sister,

I'll guide you through.

 

Come along now

little sister,

I LOVE YOU.