Poems-5
The Out House
The service station trade was slow
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick
Piled shavings on the ground.
No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill.
"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack.
With quickened step she entered there
But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake
Or spider might be in it.
With startled look and beet-red face
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car
Just like three gals before.
She missed the foot log - jumped the stream
The owner gave a shout.
As her silk stockings, down at her knees
Caught on a sassafras sprout.
She tripped and fell - got up, and then
In obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.
Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.
A speaking system he'd devised,
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
Beneath the toilet seat.
He'd wait until the gals got set
And then the devilish tyke
Would stop his whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.
And as she sat, a voice below
Struck terror, fright and fear,
"Will you please use the other hole,
We're painting under here!"
Shopping
Dang near every Tuesday
I go and watch the sell
down at the local sale barn.
I sit with Buster Fell.
Me and Buster, we go way back.
Since kids, well, we been friends.
Buster "n me keeps up on things;
politics "n cattle trends.
We never bid on 'em.
Don't need nothin', him or me.
Then we eat a bite at Gert's Cafe;
Maybe drink a tall ice tea.
Now lately, Clara, she's the wife,
she wants to go with me.
Say's she wants to do some shopping
with Buster's Anna Lee.
"whatcha need? I'll get it."
First time out I volunteer.
"I just want to do some shopping,"
she says as if she didn't hear.
"For what? I said I'd buy it.
Save you a trip to town."
"Buy what?" she says. "Buy what you need,"
I says 'n sorta frown.
I ask her nice, "What's eatin' you?"
Her control's about to fail.
"It's you and Buster, Gert's Cafe; and
the stupid auction sale."
I tells her, "Hon, that's business.
You surely savvy that.
I gotta stay on top of things;
know where the market's at."
"Do you buy anything?" she says.
"Just supper," I replied.
"It's just like shopping then," she says.
'N I'm plumb mystifi
We patched things up.
We hugged. She cried but I ain't got a clue
Of what it is we fought about,
but once a week we two
Meet Buster and his missus
in the sale barn parking lot.
The women they go to town,
but by evening they ain't bought
No more 'n me 'n Buster has,
'cept for groceries and stuff,
But they seem to have a high time,
which I guess is fair enough.
We all four eats at Gert's Cafe,
talk of weddings, showers, and drought,
But I ain't got them women
'n their shopping figgered out.
15 Flat & no penalties,
Tied to the side of an old horse trailer,
In the rodeo arena's parking lot,
Was a well groomed ladies Barrel horse,
With it's owner deep in thought !
Her mind should be on turning barrels,
Not filled with confusion, and with fright.
She just couldn't stop re-living,
The dreaded time she spent last night.
Her boyfriend had informed her,
It was time to make a choice,
To be with him on Sunday mornings,
Or going to hear her Pastor's voice.
She'd just started going to church,
Not sure if she'd enjoy it,
but since she did, she didn't want,
someone to destroy it.
She loved going to her little church,
but she loved her boyfriend too,
she was searching for an answer,
she just didn't know what to do.
She started warming up her horse,
but her heart just wasn't in it,
getting ready for a barrel run,
they'd call her name in just a minute.
It seemingly didn't matter,
She hadn't won once this whole year,
Something was always going wrong,
She couldn't keep her mind real clear.
And once again as always,
She'd start with no smile upon her face,
A lonely teenage cowgirl,
In a blouse with frilly lace.
As she neared her turn to ride,
She asked out loud in desperate prayer,
Oh LORD, help me find the answer,
Is there anyone out there?
As her name was called she found herself,
Full tilt at barrel number one,
She never fully realized,
The different way her horse would run.
There's something different about this ride,
Her mind is clear and feeling free,
She speeds around the second barrel,
And heads for number three!
A quiet voice comes to her ear,
“I'll ride with you throughout your life,
and with me, my little cowgirl,
you'll no longer feel the strife!”.
The third barrel seems so close,
Her leg rocks it side to side,
But she has no time to see if it falls,
Just finish out the ride!
The voice said “keep your faith in me,
I'll hold up a few barrels just for you,
Let me ride into your life,
And together we'll see what we can do!”
She spurred across the finish line,
A smile upon her face,
Our lovely teenage cowgirl,
In her blouse of frilly lace!
Now I know that you're all dying to hear,
How our cowgirl did that night!
Did the barrel fall or stay up?
Did everything turn out all right?
Well, fifteen flat and no penalties,
Is what the announcer had to say,
And listen to what our cowgirl did,
Just the very next day!
On the back of that Trophy Buckle,
she had engraved in capital letters,
BOYFRIENDS SOMETIMES ARE OK,
BUT JESUS CHRIST IS BETTER !
hangin out
Three dogs sat on the sidewalk
outside the butcher shop
With drooling mouths and pleading eyes,
but no one slowed or stopped.
Wanting for them butchered goods
they lounged there in the street.
They got their share of hostile stares
but not a shread of meat.
"I can't handle this," the town dog said,
"I'm gonna slip inside,
And steal a steak and eat it
'til my hunger's satisfied."
The ranch dog said, "You go ahead
and burgle, swipe or steal,
But rustlin' goes again' The Code,
Not even for a meal.
My credit's good down at the bank.
I got some equity.
I'll get a loan. I'll go in hock
to pay the butcher's fee."
The town dog and the ranch dog said,
"What you gonna do?"
To the third one of their trio,
a farm dog named Old Blue
Now Blue ain't gonna steal,
And he ain't about to borrow
'Cause either way, you just might pay
The piper come tomorrow.
If yer lookin'fer a handout,
here's a trick that works plumb fine
Be patient and look downhearted
but most important: whine.
By Ralph Moore
Drop A Pebble In the water
Drop a pebble in the water:
just a splash, and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center,
flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling
where the end is going to be.
Drop a pebble in the water:
in a minute you forget,
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing
to a great big wave have grown;
You've disturbed a mighty river
just by dropping in a stone
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading
from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them,
once you've started them to flow.
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute you forget;
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart
a mighty wave of tears you've stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy
ere you dropped that unkind word.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
just a flash and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort
on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn't believe the volume
of the one kind word you gave.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
in a minute you forget;
But there's gladness still a-swelling,
and there's joy circling yet,
And you've rolled a wave of comfort
whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water
just by dropping one kind word.
By James W. Foley~
The O;yster
once was an oyster whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand had got into his shell.
It was only a grain but it gave him great pain,
For oysters have feelings although they're so plain.
Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate
That had brought him to such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the government, cry for election,
And claim that the sea should have given him protection?
No--He said to himself as he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it, I shall try to improve it.
Now the years have rolled around,
as the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate destiny--stew.
And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral;
For isn't it grand what an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand.
What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.
~ David Cohen ~
©..... W. Edwin Harris