I am sorry to bore my few FB friends, but my heart is still heavy and I am posting my friends poem in his memory. I cant seem to put him down. He was so dear to me and I am posting a poem he wrote many years ago. Not a great poem , but his poem . I hope he sees this. For my friend Haran. Straight From The Heart Its not all boots and jeans, or fancy shaped beaver hats aint a rope hangin in your truck or pretty little chaps the saddles are rarely fancy cause of ridin in the rain training a horse to rope can bring a little pain mending fences and working cows, riding for the brand sun-up to sundown, each day, covering a lot of land just cause you earn a wage from the saddle dont mean youre a real cowpoke its a lot of years, wet saddle blankets, and usually being broke feeding tons of hay in winter, branding calves in summer its year round, every day, with thousands of acres to cover eatin dust and beat-up trucks, mud up to your knees doctorin cattle, pullin calves, more than what it seems Friday nights, maybe, youll get into town cept when the snows too deep and you cant get around then you just sit back and watch the sunset across Montanas big sky knowing exactly why youre here, never asking why you realize its cause its what you do and who you are, not because you should most will never understand riding for a livin and working harder than most men could whiskey bent and hell raising - thats for wannabes in the city fancy shirts and silver buckles, sittin a little too pretty the way you bridle a horse and saddle a bronc tells one who knows if youre for real, or just got the right clothes yes, to earn a wage honestly from the saddle you gotta know where to start it aint for fame or fortune, its not what you wear, its gotta be straight from the heart! © 1994, Haran Hunter This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without permission. About Haran Hunter: Although it has been a few years since I left the West, there are many things I still hold dear...the mountain peaks in winter, the rushing rivers of spring thaw, and the many days spent with a rope in my hand working cattle on the range, or when they come out of the chute. For many a day was had coming off that bronc when you didnt think you could get up and walk, and then hours later two-steppin and waltzing til morning on sawdust covered wood floors to a good country band. In my writing, I just hope youll find a poem that youll enjoy, several of which have been published in a few publications, as well as local papers. They were all written while living in Colorado and Montana. A single prayer in this regard is that youll be able to see through my eyes the days of old, and what the West has now become in places. Above all, the words that were inspired by the peaks of the Rockies, as well as the horses that took me through them, were Straight From The Heart.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Dec 2014 02:10:31 +0000
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