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Submissions appear in date order with the most recent at the top of the page.
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Grampa, I Miss You by Byrd Woodward, ©1998 I can see your straight back, astride ol' Sonny And the red suspenders you wore; In your beat-up, sweat-stained, worn-out hat With Bowser and Elmer in tow. You praised Gramma's biscuits, hard n' brown, Sometimes you could barely choke them down. You pestered her while she peeled th' spuds An' brought her tin cans of lilac buds. You teased and tickled her, prodded an' more, 'Til she gave up an' ran you out the back door. You'd stand there grinnin' on the porch in the rain, Planning the next move in your campaign. I loved listenin' when the two of you laughed….. You'd bring her lace hankies when you sold a calf. You never said love words, not that we could hear But the look in your eyes spoke 'em out clear. You taught from example from all you had learned The 'do's and don'ts' where true love's concerned….. When Gramma grew old and her sight got worse, You didn't treat her like she needed a nurse. We'd get up early, put th' dogs in th' truck, Hope for sunshine and a little good luck. Remember how Elmer would stand as her guard, A bear finding her would go down hard. We'd drive to her fav'rite berryin' hill, Way up in the woods by the old mill. She'd sit in the sun on the Navajo rug, Pickin' huckleberries and brushing off bugs. With that old dog and a jug of spring water, Happier than if you had just brought her A crown of fine jewels and new-minted gold, And all the fine things both arms could hold. If I've given others the love you gave me The patience, the wisdom, the strength, If I've lived most of my life in your mold, If I've reached out to measure your length… An' if I walk just a little bull-legged, When I saddle my horse in the cold, It's only because, Grampa, I want to be Exactly like you when I'm old. >>> Back to Top <<< Born to the Breed by Byrd Woodward, ©2001 “A pinto! my Gramma said with surprise… “Old Maggie must have stars in her eyes. Her foals have been dark for the last fifteen years; She’s waited ‘til late to start shiftin’ gears.” Within two days Maggie lay dead on the ground, Her last foal stompin’ and snortin’ around As if to say, “Man, now look what you done… We was getting’ on fine ‘til you come along.” Grampa said, “Flora, that colt just won’t feed”, “Don’t fret now, Ben, I know what he needs.” Down at the corral she tried and she tried Then fin’ly sat down on the bucket and cried. Grampa said, “Sonny, you’ve got us both beat… It’s up to you now, I can’t make you eat.” The colt danced around some, then made up his mind… And butted my Grampa right in the behind. Ben grew closer to that colt than his boys… Sons disappointed but the horse was pure joy. Ever day they’d be workin’ just after dawn… The next thing you’d know, the mornin’ was gone. Ben’s hands and his friend laughed at his back… Sayin’, “Look he’s cowhocked and them hooves’ll crack!” They thought the man was pure wastin’ his time But soon that pony could turn on a dime. A few years down the road they saw what he had… Said, “Ben, I’d take that colt offa yer hands:… Gramps would look up with a grin on his face… “Ain’t this here th’ horse you called a disgrace?” The two worked together as if they were one Never quittin’ ‘til the last dog was hung… “There’s one more steer down there in that brush”… Through snow and sweat and the alkali dust. There are cowboys and horses out there today… About only a few will you hear cowhands say, “I’d ride into Hell with that man and his horse An’ foller ‘em up River Styx to it’s source.” Grampa and Sonny were both of that breed… Westerners born into desperate need… I’m proud to think I can measure up some To either of them when the day’s work is done. >>> Back to Top <<< |
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