Sunday, April 5, 2015

The Mare
           By Stick
I saw a gang of wild ponies
Out on the prairie sward,
With a coal black stallion,
Who was leading on the horde.
He had one white stocking
And a star upon his head,
With mares and colts a'plenty
All hale and quite well fed.

He moved them like a general
To keep them safe and whole
Leading them to new pastures,
Safe havens to raise each foal.
They were made up of every color
From blonde and chestnut, to mousy gray,
And they gathered all close together,
To be safe at the end of day.

But there was one lone mare
Who stood off from all the rest.
She didn’t join the herd
Just stared towards the west.
She was a sway-back pinto,
Whose ribs stood out bare enough to count,
And it seemed like the next strong breeze
Would be more than she could surmount.

Yet I saw her every day
Throughout the Spring and Fall,
And each day I was surprised
To still see her standing tall.
It seemed to me she was waiting,
But for what, I could not tell.
A friend, a mate—I was not sure—
Or maybe heaven’s clarion bell.

I looked for her when winter broke,
And the snow and ice were gone.
I found the herd, new foals and all,
Running through the desert dawn.
The mob was all still standing,
But of the mare, there was no sight
Perhaps she found what she was looking for

Out in the desert night.
The Sharp Edge
         By Stick

I got a knife
When I was just a lad
It had three blades
Just like the one dad had
I've kept it in my pocket
For nigh on fifty years
And tho' it's drawn some blood
It's never caused shed tears.
My grandpa always taught me
To keep it sharp and clean
For a dull knife cuts no wood,
So the blades should all be keen.

I learned truth and honor
When I was just a lad
I was taught to always keep them,
Just like my father had.
I've kept them in my heart
For nigh on fifty years
And though it's caused no harm
It has caused a few shed tears.
My grandpa always taught me
Not to cheat and not to lie
For a liar has no honor,
So stay true until you die