Most Viewed Nostalgia Poems (1,154)

Cowboy poets are among my heroes
And I'm certain you're wondering why
Well I suppose it's 'cause they make me laugh
And sometimes they make me cry.

They have a way of sparking my brain up it seems
To make my mind's eye see the horses
Crossing clear blue mountain streams
Cold water running stony courses.


They can make my mind's eye nose
Smell a thing or two as well
Like horse sweat and leather
On a day that's hot as hell.

They can make me feel the snowflakes
As they sting my ears and face
As I'm bringing in a calving heifer
Down to the Old Home Place.

They just up and lift my heart
To a place they call the West
And there is just enough cowgirl in me
To know that place is best.

You're hands are rough
Like a mountain Pitt
They surcomb to evolution
Must we not forget
The troubled times
Theve being around a lot
Mulucking through the dirt
On the old farm.plain

Tillaging through the dirt
They are all.hard and wrinkled due to passing time
But your hands tells a story
Of glorious times
Gone by
Your hand take up your pipe
With a little shake
No more will they work
On the little tillage farm
You.pet your dog
For all the work done
And take up your pipe
To puff and blow
No more will you worry
About the past times gone.


The End

that shady peace within that we did wander as frail mortals be
among the wise non seeing eyes that smiled at our tranquillity.

steep green assent of rustling leaves, speckled sunlight through the trees, children at play, a far off view, memories and thoughts anew.

a span of time wisdom unfolds a twist of fate mine might now hold to kiss the dew on halloed ground such gentle capture found.
George.w.dye 1979

The three most important rules of golf:
Keep your head down!
Keep you head down!
And keep you head down!
Obey the rules of golf
If you cheat, you are only cheating yourself
Clean off your club after every shot
Repair all divots
Repair all ball marks on the green
Keep carts 30 feet from the edge of the green
Let faster players play through
Make all your putts, no gimmes!
Pack some snack, you can't golf on an empty stomach
If you are a single, golf during the week, not on the busy weekends
The cheaper the course, the more elbow room you will have
Some say golf is a good walk spoiled, so take a cart
Mark your score on the next hole so the people behind you can play
Forget your bad shots
Have fun out there!

Here's to the passing cowboy, the plowman's pioneer
His home the boundless mesa, he of any man the peer
Around his wide sombrero was stretched rattler's hide
His bridle sporting conchos, lasso at his side.

Days spent roaming prairies, nights with the stars
Keeping vigil over thousands, not held by posts or bars
Never a diversion in all the lonesome land
Cattle, horses, sun and sage and sand.

Hoot owls hail him, scuttling through the flat
Prairie dogs sassing him, at their doors where they sat
Rattler hisses warning where near it's haunt he trod
Texas longhorn pursuing over pathless waste of sod.

Lasso, quirt and colt, cowboy knows his skill
Pass with him to history, naught in their place can fill
He, bold bronc rider, never conned a lesson page,
But cattle, horses, sun and sand and sage.

Long night watches, terror in the skies!
Lightning played and mocked him, until blinded were his eyes
Rage the storm around him, fear was in his heart
Lest panic-stricken leaders might make the whole herd start.

It meant a death for many, perhaps a wild stampede
None could stem the fury of the cattle in the lead
Then life seemed so little and death so very near
With cattle, cattle and cattle and darkness everywhere.

Then quaff with me a bumper of water clean and pure
The memory of the cowboy whose fame must ever endure
From the Llano Estacado to the Dakota's distant sands
Were herds of countless thousands in days of fenceless lands.

Let us rear for him an altar in the Temple of the Brave
And weave of Texas grasses, a garland for his grave
And offer him a guerdor for the work he has done
with cattle, horses, sage and sand and sun.

Ok everybody in the car. Here we go....
Are we going far, asked one.
I don't know says the other.
And so on the group continues it's endless chatter.
Slow down says one. Your going to fast says the other.
Speed up don't listen to them. What do they know.
I want to go go go.
We should have never left the house.
You aren't going to have any fun.
Stay as quiet as a mouse.
Oh hell, dance like you've come undone.
Everybody silence please I can't think.
Gee as much as we help now she wants silence.
Not me I am not giving in.
She really needs me.
Oh give up let her be.
I think we are almost at the end.
I see the parking lot.
Ok get your purse. Check your skirt.
Just turn around lets go home.
It isn't to late.
Hey look at him "flirt"
Um I am scared.
Don't be. Go in. Not me.
Wow I am finally here.

My childhood was left behind
Now i am an old man
Forgiving mankind
i do my utmost as i can

Love laces in order to bind
Sometimes i feel like an icy pan
Human touch that i don´t find...
Maybe i am your unknown fan

You know you aren´t mine
As far as i see
i couldn´t reach...

There isn´t sunshine
Oh my honey bee
At this naked beach

I recall an incident from my very early youth. I was around age four. My family lived on a white oak lined avenue in a suburb of Baltimore, Maryland. The year was 1956. Just up at the top of the hill, five houses beyond my house was Oakleigh Elementary School. On the grounds, aside from the actual school building itself, were four baseball diamonds, a football field, soccer field, two tennis courts, a basketball court, several wooded areas, an old haunted house (not part of the school grounds, but it was there), and a corraled (metal bars) playground. In this playground, of the many apparatti available, was a merry go round, a sliding board, monkey bars, and swings. The playground was brand new, the ground strewn with sand and stringy wood pieces. My two best friends, Paul and Tommy (who were two years older than me) and I would often go to the playground from our homes to play (We lived very close and remember this was 1956). The end of the school jutted out toward the playground. Maybe, fifty feet apart from each other. Oakleigh elementary was a two story structure in which were taught grades 1 thru 6. One day, as my friends and I were playing, two figures appeared in the large picture window on the second floor at the end of the school overlooking the playground. It was a man and a woman. The man was naked and the woman, clothed, appeared to be scrubbing him just below the belly with a brush. (At the time, I didn't realize that that wasn't a brush in her hand). Without alarm, we played and then left for home. As we were heading home, we came upon our neighbor, Mr. Menninger. One of the older boys, I don't recall which (probably both), remarked to him that they had seen a naked man in the school. As it never crossed our minds that there was anything wrong (or mine anyway), we made our way to our homes. Soon after, there was a buzz going about on our street. Folks were outside. Shortly following, a police car went up our road to the school. After a while (I haven't a clue how long), the police car came back down the hill past our homes and disappeared. I saw two people in the back seat of the car as it passed. I was oblivious to the meaning of all the excitement, obviously. Some days later (for some reason), Paul, Tommy, and I, and our parents, had to get dressed up in the middle of a weekday and travel to this big building somewhere. I had never been there. Our parents walked us into the building and we were all seated in this wide hallway on some wooden benches. Well, we never left those benches for the longest time until some man in a suit came out of one of the doors and spoke to our folks. Something about it being all over. Now get this, then another man came over and gave each of we children a brand new crisp one dollar bill and told us "this is for appearing in court". Whatever that meant. I was bewildered by this entire affair.

imagine a time when a stones throw away stood love gained an sometimes love lost, the simple town life where a connection to the outside was courier de bois pony express the steel rail steamer trumpeted sound smoke signals stage coach. . . . how far we've come click of the mouse to anywhere thats now a stones throw away life love family work economics info how that towns grown for within that click of the mouse can be love gained or love lost.

Under the moon of madness we dancing tango,
,
Chilling on the peer drinking beer

Drunk on the crest of a wave my dancing heart,

Your eyes smiling my reflection I was lost in them from the start,

Your sea of passion ,wild and free
,
Your just like me,

It wasn't meant to be,

We were dancing tango under the moon of madness,

Reflecting its sadness

On two soul mates

Who dared to dance ,

They never left the shore ,



By Peach,