Tween the twisted sage I see
that life out yonder beckons me
In the lonesome winds I hear
The coyotes call and shamans tear
I breathe the mountain mist and sigh
fortunes that have passed me by
I taste the dust from yesterdays
trapped inside its haunted maze
oh unmerciful fate has christened I
but to one life under earth and sky
scattered midst the canyon face
my eternal soul abounds in grace.
Elaine Cooke is a bit of a dreamer. As a 36 year old mother of ten children (yes, she has ten!) ages 8 months to 18 years, She says she is not a terribly likely cowboy. Nevertheless, recently, she and her husband Dan recently moved their extra-large family into the quintessential ramblin' ranch house on several acres in southern California's horse country. Despite nineties conveniences, they dance with the coyotes (and other wildlife) as a matter of course. It was on television that she discovered Cowboy Poetry. and was instantly attracted to it's humor and sometimes haunting, lonely, lilt. It tends to bring back an old memory of a shadow bearing sunset folding down around the silver mines of Calico. She has a few other poems perkin' away on a back burner.
My horse is grazin' on the grass
That stretches from the mountain pass
Through which we came, clear to the far
Horizon, where it meets a star.
My campfire.
My blanket's laid out straight and flat
Behind me where I put my hat
And gunbelt, carbine, saddle, too.
No featherbed, but it'll do.
My campfire.
The night is still; there is no breeze
My cheek to kiss, my hair to tease.
No wind to blow or bend out some
The wisp of smoke that rises from
My campfire.
The beans were good, I guess I'll say.
As good as beans can be today.
The sauce was thick, the coffee thin,
The bread so hard I dropped it in
My campfire.
I'm sittin' on the ground so near
The fire that I might burn or sear
The backs of hands or even face,
But I won't shift or move my place.
My campfire.
I like the heat, the light so bright;
It hurts my eyes to stare all night
Into the flames that lick and curl
Below the smoke, and leap and swirl.
My campfire.
Although there's no one here with me-
At least no humans you can see-
A lone coyote howls to tell
Me that the prairie's safe; all's well.
My campfire.
The silence let's me think and view
The world without the noise and hue
And cry of people, conflict, war,
And makes me cherish all the more
My campfire.
But dawn will come before I know,
And rest I need, so off I'll go
To bed, to follow all my rules,
To calmly sleep while slowly cools
My campfire.
Jim Janke was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He attended the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee in Milwaukee, obtaining a degree in chemistry in 1965. He went to Minnesota and earned a PhD in Organic Chemistry in 1970. He did two years of postdoctoral research at a biochemical institute in Austin, Minnesota. It was there that he started seriously trying to write for publication. He moved to Michigan and became a chemistry professor. He moved to a chemistry teaching position in South Dakota in 1978. In 1980 he published his first novel, a Western, for Dell.
He earned an MBA in Finance from the University of Wisconsin - Madison. He returned to South Dakota to teach again, but this time in finance. In 1992 he published his second novel, another Western, for Avalon Books. He continued to publish for Avalon.
His "Old West" web site received The Wyoming Companion "Best of the West Award" in 1996.
Stan Paregien was born in Oklahoma in 1941. He grew up on a section of the famous Newhall
Ranch that is located about 75 miles north of Los Angeles. That's where
he learned to rope and ride and to love the cowboy way of life.
He has been a member of Western Writers of America (WWA) since 1984, and
served for four years as the historian and publicist of that group of
professional writers who write about and promote the Old West. He is
author of a book on cowboy poet S. Omar Barker.
He has been writing and performing cowboy poetry since 1990. Stan
appeared five years on the annual Cowboy Poetry Gathering at the
National Cowboy Hall of Fame in Oklahoma City; and six
years on the annual National Cowboy Symposium in Lubbock, Texas. He is
also a member of the Texas Cowboy Poets Association and of the National
Storytelling Association.
His articles and poetry have appeared in a number of publications, including: The Saturday Evening Post, American Cowboy Poet Magazine and now, The Wyoming Companion.
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