Never Alone, Lady Antebellum with Jim Brickman -click on picture, enjoy!
This is actually about the genesis of one of my favorite poems, one that’s close to my heart, ‘Just an Old Cowboy’. I woke up one night when I woke with the memory of this old friend along with all the stories, after all these years they came flooding back to me.
Going back, I’ve always been a bit of a loner and my horse and dog were my best friends, they were a Godsend to a lonely little girl. Anyways, almost every day was spent with my horse, (when I wasn’t in school), usually riding and exploring the hills and valleys around us. I spent those years absorbing, exploring and daydreaming. We delt with a few pretty scary situations, where it would become very clear that we were alone and far from any help if things went wrong. I’m guessing it was those experiences and loneliness that fueled my *Walter Mitty-ish imagination. Inspired by the raw beauty and some of my favorite places, like the gecko cave, maybe listening to the water playing over the rocks of the creek, well, all this and more would come to life. Thus, my old cowboy was born, and through the years his life took form and he became an old friend, a protector, a riding companion of sorts.
The night I remembered, I knew I had to start writing. I couldn’t chance losing his story and all our wonderful adventures. This poem was the first of those stories, I hope you enjoy it and I wish you great and wonderful adventures! Hansi Riley
I don’t have many pictures of my horse and I together, so I posted this movie I rode my horse in, it’s taken at the bottom of the hills were we used to ride. To see the film ‘Marijuana 1968′ go to http://buff.ly/12KxI0F and scroll to reel 27:43
I wouldn’t be surprised it it’s #1 on ”Rotten Tomatoes’, Sony Bono narrated and I think he was stoned, hehe
* The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber https://youtu.be/KUQO1O9__d4 Walter Mitty had his own secret world, created by am extreme imagination. I guess mine wasn’t that bad, compared to his. (=
Just an Old Cowboy ragged and worn
stains on his shirt with jeans thin and torn.
but none of this fooled me
cause he’d tamed these wild hills,
and no man could make it
to his age in these parts.
Without being rugged and unless he was smart.
I entered the cabin and was looking around
when he signaled me over, to come sit down.
He rubbed the fingers of misshapen hands
as rough and gnarled as the lay of the land.
He gazed out the window and started to speak
as he started to going back in time.
He spoke of his horses and then of his wife
reminiscing bout good times he’d had.
He told of their hardship, trouble and strife
that was all a part of the Cowboy life.
Then he spoke of his family
who’d brought him such joy
his beautiful daughters, the birth of their boy.
His eyes teared up and he turned away
saying; ’Loosing my wife,
took the best part of me, that day.’
Well I lost my Old Cowboy in his 86th year.
I still have his picture, and even now I can hear
his gravely voice, see those twinkling eyes.
I still visit his mountain,
cause that’s where he lies. Hansi Riley
She holds it in with a smile on her face
as darkness pulls her down.
Emotions in a jumble
but she knows she must be strong.
Can’t let them see inside her
afraid they’ll think her weak.
So until she’s off and all alone
false bravado she must keep.
It wasn’t always like this
a life kept far apart.
She used to have a family
of which she was a part.
But life can take you places
taking others far away.
One moment she was happy
then too quickly, it all changed.
Hopefully she’ll rebuild a life
that she can call her own.
But today she’ll wear
a mask of sorts
and call no place a home.