He saddles-up occasionally but a Ram is his ride.
Well-worn chaps and rusty spurs hang on a post near the hay,
Stetson, seven-stitch boots, and brass belt-buckle worn with pride,
in the dim-lit honky-tonk, on payday.
Singers never as purty as Dolly or as country as Hank,
as loved as Willy or the whiskey he drank,
singing tunes made famous by others.
Years of longneck Buds and Camels
made for perfect smoke-rings with ease.
The old man rarely spoke,
but when he sat back and blew
everyone knew,
he was ready to speak.
When he did, he was heard.
I seen plenty when I served in Nam
blacks, Mexicans, Indians, Jews,
some country clods, some city dudes.
Reparations, microaggressions, cultural appropriations
I don\u2019t understand,
I keep it simple.
There\u2019s them with good hearts and them that\u2019s jerks,
and not much in between.
You gotta cull the good from the bad
and hope they do the same.
Any good heart walks through the door
a handshake, a hug, I\u2019ll buy \u2018em a beer
and fight any man who shows disrespect.
A jerk is on his own.
Next you ride the prairie,
look high in the sky,
where the elite fly
looking down their noses at fly-over states.
They never prayed for rain to come,
never prayed for rain to go,
many never prayed.
Never baled hay, slopped hogs,
shucked corn or picked peas.
No manual labor for the jet set;
they live off others\u2019 sweat.
But from high on their horses
they righteously proclaim,
what we can and cannot do.
We can\u2019t use certain words
because we might offend,
don\u2019t matter what we intend.
But it\u2019s okay for them to call us
hayseeds, crackers, hillbillies,
hicks, rednecks, honkies
bubbas, bumpkins, and peckerwoods.
Don\u2019t get all hep up about them,
they ain\u2019t worth the worry.
Save your energy for faith, family and friends.
You\u2019re itchin\u2019 to leave small town life,
for bright lights, busy nights.
I don\u2019t begrudge the change,
just don\u2019t judge us who stay,
to see sunrise glory, feel sunset peace,
and reflect under the Milky Way.
You boys, sowin\u2019 oats, you need to learn,
women ain\u2019t objects for gratification,
they\u2019re humans with feelings, hopes, and dreams.
If they want to work support\u2019em,
if they look down their noses at mothers and wives
give\u2019em room,
if they\u2019re married stay away,
if they cuss to act tough, they are as dumb as men.
Don\u2019t git catawampus \u2018bout looks,
if they\u2019re hung up on purty let\u2019em be.
If you find one who is comfortable within her own skin,
who\u2019s honest and will work with you,
saddle up, get to work,
be honest with them,
see what you can build.
Love ain\u2019t just frolicking,
though that\u2019s a good part.
It\u2019s doin\u2019 for her —
and appreciating what she\u2019s doin\u2019 for you.
It\u2019s working together on what\u2019s right.
If you have children,
teach\u2019em to saddle and care for their own horses,
give them plenty of rope,
and raise them to live with someone else,
from the day they\u2019re born.
When they make mistakes
(and they will)
make sure they accept responsibility,
experience consequences
and learn what is right.
Yelling what\u2019s wrong
won\u2019t do as much as showing what\u2019s right.
If they are falling,
(unless they are in danger)
let\u2019em fall,
but giv\u2019em a hand up.
Do not expect what you do not live.
Enjoy the ride,
they grow up fast.
If your needs are met —
don\u2019t sweat the wants.
If you get some wants enjoy them
but understand,
they don\u2019t make you a better person.
No horse, no saddle, no boot, no buckle
helps you treat people better.
My trailer provides shelter —
a bathroom, a kitchen with ample food,
a bed, a closet filled with clothes,
a television and comfy recliner.
My needs are met.
My truck —
gets me from A to B
holds hay and supplies.
My needs are met.
If I get better shelter, a better truck,
I will enjoy them,
but I\u2019m not a better person.
Don\u2019t judge by the color of skin,
house size, fancy car, powerful truck,
amount of money or looks.
See how people care
for friends, for family, for their horses.
If they smile freely, listen to others,
say thank you and you\u2019re welcome,
then look them in their eyes,
shake their hands,
support them in bad times,
celebrate together in good times,
and build friendships that last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He saddles-up occasionally but a Ram is his ride.Well-worn chaps and rusty spurs hang on a post near the hay,Stetson, seven-stitch boots, and brass belt-buckle worn with pride,in the dim-lit honky-tonk, on payday.Singers never as purty as Dolly or as country as Hank,as loved as Willy or the whiskey he drank,singing tunes made famous by … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":916,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-882","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/jonathan-kemper-QjDQ0-oFGtU-unsplash.jpg?fit=640%2C427&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/882","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=882"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/882\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":885,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/882\/revisions\/885"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/916"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=882"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=882"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=882"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Jeral Williams is a poet residing in Mobile, Alabama. His formative years were in Western Kansas. He believes you can take the boy out of the West, but you can not take the West out of the man.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"