Home    Wilody Publishing    Authors and Others    My God, My God???

The Country Boy In Me (reprinted with additional material)

Table Of Contents:

Page Poems

2. Windy - cowboy poetry
4. Love
5 Holding Out
6. Rising Cowboy - cowboy poetry
7. Embrace The Sky
8. Heart’s Love
9. Next
10. The One That Fell In Love
11. Curly Red - cowboy poetry
12. Walter’s Romeo
13. Mans Needs
14. Two Thumbs Up
15. Where Great Trees Collide
16. At Times Like These
17. I'll Never Let You Go
18. William Tell - cowboy poetry
19. Dusty Trails - cowboy poetry
20. Early
21. The Cowboy and The Saddle - cowboy poetry
22. The Ode Of Man
23. The Clock
24. Change
25. Dead Skin
26. The Seasons It Has Known
27. We Think Of God
28. Sand
29. When Passion Held Me Back
30. We Waited - cowboy poetry
31. The Garden Only Grows
32. Ol’ Jake - cowboy poetry
34. A Cowhands Dream - cowboy poetry
36. On The High Dry And Dusty - cowboy poetry
37. Crafters
38. If Gardens
39. In The Dream
40. I Want To Be There For You
41. Teamwork Or? (Philosophy)
43. Katherine Marie
44. Now She's Free
45. The Woman You've Always Been
46. Waiting For You
47. Your Love
48. Shorty Jack Burns - (cowboy poetry)

My thanks to GOD for giving me the talent. And thanks to my many friends and family for their interest and encouragement in my work.

© Copyright, May 27, 2003

Stronger than the heart
Love, that never fails
To present it’s glow
A little known effect
Of and to the passerby
Who will not risk the unknown,

Like black smoke
Billowing from the stack
You’ll meet the friend
That never was
Runnin’ through the fog
And around the cause,

To stand upon the ocean
To hear the falling snow
To touch each star in the sky
While the sands of time unfold,

Gray lights
Unbroken chains
Freedom beckons
Unspoken pains.

Hard pillars and post
And emotionless ghosts,
Love, is felt the most.

James Herbert Wilson


Curly Red
© Copyright, December 26, 1999
(published recently by Intl. Library Of Poetry) (also printed in the 'Missouri Cowboy Poetry Anthology' 2001)

I could tell you of the bulls I've rode
And the times I didn't win
Windin' roads, deep valleys,
And rivers, that never seem to end,

Life on the 'Blue Bayou'
Honeysuckle vines,
But this particular story's
About 'Curly Red' and a railroad line.

I was herdin' cows for the 'H Bar C',
I saw the smoke unravelin',
Heard the whistle blowin',
Runnin' wild down that lonely track.

It was an ol' 2-4-2
With a handful of cars
When a mama cow trin' to cross the rails
Met up with those Heavenly stars.

I started my own spread and I hand fed that
'Curly Red' baby bull 'til he could stand
And he's paid me back for savin' his life
'Curly Red' grand daddy of the Flyin' W Brand.

James Herbert Wilson


The Clock
© Copyright, June 3, 2003
(also printed in 'Eternal Portraits')

The clock ticks as I watch
The hands turn like a windmill
Blowing in a gentle breeze
Or the wheels on a wagon
When pulled by a big dog.

Like a windmill pumps
The water through a pipe
A dog can wag his tail
Till the apples are ripe.

And the clock ticks as I watch
The pendulum swing
The hands move around
Tic tock, tic tock, tic tock
The circle gets so small.

As faster the hands run
The brighter the falling sun
One eye becomes immune
The ear fills with its tune.

What’s left when I awake,
The Clock!

James Herbert Wilson


I Want To Be There For You
Copyright: February 11, 2004

I want to be your sunshine
When you walk along the shoreline
I want to be the gentle breeze that you embrace
The breeze that lifts your hair away from your face

I want to be the mountains capped with snow
While your brush paints to and fro
I want to be the daffodils in spring
I want to be the happy song that you sing

I want to be there when you’re feeling low
And be the only comedian that you know
If I can’t make you laugh when I’m through
I’ll expect you to give me the boot

I want to be the path beneath your feet
I want to be the Canary that sings so sweet
I want to be your umbrella in the rain
And make sure you never feel another drop of pain

James Herbert Wilson


Teamwork Or? (philosophy)
Date: © Copyright, April 19, 2004

Up on ‘Struggle Mountain’grandfather and other ants inhabit a mound located near the very top of a very tall mountain. A place of peace, and love, and joy, and learning. Everyday grandfather ants and grandmother ants come out of their mounds to take their places and spend their days enriching the lives of those younger than themselves, and teach all that they have come to know, all they have learned to the grandchildren of all of ‘Struggle Mountain’.

One day the wind blew so very much harder than normal and three very young ants, mostly unlearned, (one male, Tom-kus; and two females, Jill-jon and Kim-stul), were blown from the top of ‘Struggle Mountain’, their mountain, the only home they had known. Hardy as young ants are, they lived from the rough landing, rolling and rolling and battering their bodys until what seemed like an eternity they finally came to rest on the desert floor. A very unnerving and unfriendly place, this place. It didn’t take long until the heat started finding all those bruises and a cool drink of water was nowhere in sight. Instinct however, told Tom-kus to seek the cactus along their quest for their mountain, their ‘home’ on top of ‘Struggle Mountain’. For they found the cactus held secrets within, and was nourished from them.

The land provided, their needs were met, their numbers grew, they left colonies in their wake! They, like their grandparents, taught ways of old as wise men do. Still, not satisfied, their quest for ‘Struggle Mountain’ and home, continued. When these three; Tom-kus, Jill-jon and Kim-stul, grew old they sought three with the same conviction, and unwavering faith they would need to find that most joyous place they had known as ‘home’.

The task was difficult to an extreme. To find three young, willing to uproot and face the cold unknown (as they had), the storms, the hardships on the faith of their grandparents. Each of the young wanted to know as leaders; how many steps must they take? Was the road short or long, straight or curved? Would there be ice, snow, hail, etc.? Would they need greater strength, if so, is there a way to open their eyes to find such strength? And how could they possibly get anyone else to follow, knowing they too would need to endure those same hardships, knowing only the general direction of ‘home’, even when ‘home’ is on top of a mountain? A mountain called ‘Struggle Mountain’. How could they know it was the right mountain?

They the elders answered: though our age is long and our strength is short, we know our spirit is connected to our grandfathers and grandmothers, and those that taught us all we know. And all them to theirs and all generations have sought ‘home’ wherein lies our foundation.

Just because we were blown from ‘Struggle Mountain’, does not mean the mountain no longer holds our home. For as strangers when we landed, we have grown and friends are many, and our teamwork has allowed our survival, and the making of many friends along the search for our ‘fathers home’. Our ‘fathers home’ is our home and it will be your home. You and all that keep the faith and conquer the mountain to find your grandfathers joyous, peaceful home.

James Herbert Wilson


Waiting For You
Copyright: February 29, 2004

He was naturally wild
When your eyes met his
And it would be some time
Before he’d hold still for a kiss
And even then he squirmed a bit

You’d call yourself lucky
As you look in his knowing eyes
And you knew he’d hold you steady
Settin’ high in the saddle ev’ry ride
While life changed, he was the same ev’ry time

It wasn’t to long
‘Till you’d found a best friend
You’d tell him all your secrets
And you knew his trust would never end
He always played when you needed to mend

There’s a hundred years of Mustang
Sturdy steed that carried you
Sure footed on ev’ry mountain side
Ev’ry river bed you went through
Now he’s kicking his heels in Heaven, waiting for you

James Herbert Wilson


Thank You,   webmaster@pinkumbyrecords.com
Copyright © 2021 since 2000. Pink Umby Records All Rights Reserved.

Authors N Others Home     Pink Umby Records Home