My First Poem
The speed limit on the interstate is seventy-five miles per hour; top speed now was five miles per hour. My fifty-five minute commute was now at an hour and a half. I had missed one meeting and stood a good chance of being late for another. I was getting mad.
So, I asked myself – “Self, beside set here and getting mad, what can you do?” Suddenly it dawned on me, write a poem. Now, that’s a pretty unique thought since I had never had it before. Okay . . . a poem about what? I thought for a moment and decided with Christmas only two days away a Christmas poem was in order.
For people like Les Morrow, an outstanding Cowboy Poet, it might be easy. But, for me, it wasn’t. I mean the first thing to do was think of words that rhyme. Then figure out what to do with them.
Suddenly, I was off the interstate and back to ‘normal’ driving speed. I was now upset because I had to concentrate on driving again. Then I realized I had spent forty-five minutes working on my poem. It was eleven stances (I think that is the right word). All caught on a little tape recorder I carry.
It goes with a post I made on December 11, about Christmas Decor. Let me know what you think.
Cartridge in a Bare Tree
‘Twas Christmas day when I heard, “What the hell?
Out in our tree is a shotgun shell”.
My decorations were noticed now by my son;
I told him not to worry it had been through the gun.
He turned and smiled and looked at me;
As I explained the cartridge in a bare tree.
He walked away shaking his head;
But I knew that more had to be said.
I told of the morning a neighbor had little to do;
He stopped by to see if I was tipping a few.
I mentioned how people stopped just to stare;
When they noticed my decoration hanging out there.
Up until now, Tiffany been pretty mellow;
But she now wondered, “Why’s the shell yellow?”
Yellow’s the color shot with a twenty gauge;
A decoration we can pass down from age to age.
I told how her Mother didn’t like it at night;
She really thought it needed a big spotlight.
Then she asked why I didn’t hang up just a few more;
I don’t want them commercialized and sold in a store.
Well, Christmas is over it is plain to see;
Time to take the cartridge out of the bare tree.
Pictured are Char supervising as Nathan holds the shell and Tiffany “removes” the decoration from Christmas 2005.
So, I asked myself – “Self, beside set here and getting mad, what can you do?” Suddenly it dawned on me, write a poem. Now, that’s a pretty unique thought since I had never had it before. Okay . . . a poem about what? I thought for a moment and decided with Christmas only two days away a Christmas poem was in order.
For people like Les Morrow, an outstanding Cowboy Poet, it might be easy. But, for me, it wasn’t. I mean the first thing to do was think of words that rhyme. Then figure out what to do with them.
Suddenly, I was off the interstate and back to ‘normal’ driving speed. I was now upset because I had to concentrate on driving again. Then I realized I had spent forty-five minutes working on my poem. It was eleven stances (I think that is the right word). All caught on a little tape recorder I carry.
It goes with a post I made on December 11, about Christmas Decor. Let me know what you think.
Cartridge in a Bare Tree
‘Twas Christmas day when I heard, “What the hell?
Out in our tree is a shotgun shell”.
My decorations were noticed now by my son;
I told him not to worry it had been through the gun.
He turned and smiled and looked at me;
As I explained the cartridge in a bare tree.
He walked away shaking his head;
But I knew that more had to be said.
I told of the morning a neighbor had little to do;
He stopped by to see if I was tipping a few.
I mentioned how people stopped just to stare;
When they noticed my decoration hanging out there.
Up until now, Tiffany been pretty mellow;
But she now wondered, “Why’s the shell yellow?”
Yellow’s the color shot with a twenty gauge;
A decoration we can pass down from age to age.
I told how her Mother didn’t like it at night;
She really thought it needed a big spotlight.
Then she asked why I didn’t hang up just a few more;
I don’t want them commercialized and sold in a store.
Well, Christmas is over it is plain to see;
Time to take the cartridge out of the bare tree.
Pictured are Char supervising as Nathan holds the shell and Tiffany “removes” the decoration from Christmas 2005.
posted by Ralph at 1:34 AM
7 Comments:
A lovely entry. We shall begin calling you Baxter Campbell.
It's been a long time since I saw Nate. He's looking fairly dapper.
Good stuff Ralph. I was trying to make it rhyme, and I couldn't, I thougth, this is a wierd poem, then I realized I was reading the paragraph introducing the poem. I like it.
Great poem Ralph. You are so creative!
What is the yellow thing (matches the cartridge though) in the background that looks like it's on top of a hill??
Rachel
That is the top of my neighbors house. The yellow thing is a cover for their swamp cooler. I lot of people in Colorado use swamp coolers rather than air conditioners.
I never noticed it in the picture before - good eye.
Ralph
Great poem Ralph! I like the touch of the accompanying photo. You have a beautiful family. :0)
Ralph, I thought that mountain was perfectly pointed! Ha! I never heard of a swamp cooler before. I thought you were making that up, so I looked it up and there is such a thing! Now see what I learn by reading your blog!
Ralph,
Glad you're putting that road rage to work. Good job. You're a poet, and we didn't know it.
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