So’s you had a bad day.
And the blues you feel’s.
Listen to what I say –
go hollah at the hills!
(It’s better than loading up on pills)
They won’t mind a bit –
so go hollah, hollah at them hills.

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So’s you had a bad day.
And the blues you feel’s.
Listen to what I say –
go hollah at the hills!
(It’s better than loading up on pills)
They won’t mind a bit –
so go hollah, hollah at them hills.

This and other fine poems available on Amazon
nobody will argue.
But the more brilliant ones
have more cloud and less blue.
No life is perfect
we all know it is true.
Finding beauty in your clouds
is solely up to you!

This and other fine poems available on Amazon
I was doing my civic duty one bright, fine day,
when I decided to visit the nursing home – where all the old folks stay.
My heart full of nothing but sweet charity,
I scanned the halls to see who might need me.
When I noticed a woman in her room all alone,
wearing a dress and a shawl that was well worn.
I smiled and thought how nice I could be.
“Would you like to chat?” I asked her softly.
Dear Deer,
Do you deem it prudent to stand by the side of the road doing your daring-doo diversion?
Gather around,
and sit on down,
listen to a little ditty
all about a city
which was wiped out,
ain’t no doubt.
In the year 1919,
At a ranch house near the Green,
On a July day, the rain poured down
Until water covered the ground.
The cowboy got into the boat,
With their children he would go
But in the house still lay his wife
For she feared for the unborn life.
Water came to the bedspread seams,
Courage made her a cowboy’s queen.
She was a Wyoming Woman.
In the year 1924,
A mother of 3 gave birth once more.
For six months she had been on her own,
Her husband was gone – but not alone.
In the cold darkness of a coal mine,
Life changed for families of all kind.
But that tragedy had come and gone,
And a mother of 4 must go on.
She already knew the risks you see,
And still became a miner’s lady.
She was a Wyoming Woman.
In the year 1929,
She came to help a friend in a bind.
But got stuck in a small town in Wyoming.
She stayed because of a wedding ring.
Her husband worked where he could for pay,
They worked for survival each long day.
Wars and a depression she lived through,
Not by choice, but what else could she do?
She was not a native, but lived to be
Another miner’s lady.
She was a Wyoming Woman.
Mountain,
By your appearance
you deceive.
“I can climb this I
do believe,”
I said then started
on my way.
When I was young I read a story enough To know a group of friends mostly made out of fluff. When I look with older eyes I actually begin to see 100 Acre Wood characters inside of me. Sometimes I am in control and can save the day. That’s my Christopher Robin coming into play. Some people think that I’m wise but I’m really rather silly. As I channel my inner-Owl, I admit I act willy-nilly. Other times I’m annoying. Sorry Rabbit, but that’s you. Sometimes I’m playful and that’s my inner-Roo. My Kanga peeks out whenever I nurture