So for all of my loyal readers who are yelling at me for not blogging, I'm giving it another go.
Today, is poetry. I briefly mentioned on Friday nights we have Cowboy Poetry. And, as Dan always says in his Sunday Orientation speech, "Whose cowboy poetry, you ask? Our cowboy poetry." Everyone is required, yes that's right, required to write their very own cowboy poetry. There are no rules other than you have to have something.
Well, you see, I generally have Fridays off, so I get out of poetry. But that doesn't mean I don't make it into other people's poems.
Here's one for instance. It's from a little girl, who was with her family and her parents' friends' family and she was the middle child. So sometimes, she'd just give up and start crying. But of course, with the way I learned to ride horses ("If you don't make that horse run, you will get off and you will not get back on!!!), I told her there was no crying allowed and she would have to be tough and make that horse do what she wanted...she needed to COWGIRL UP!
And so that's what she titled her poem...
COWGIRL UP
At first I was shy and a little bit scared
But I worked in the ring with rangilers who cared
One day on a ride I was scared and I cried
But LeAndra looked at me and said Cowgirl UP
And I finished the ride!!
THE END!!!
LEANDRA ROCKS!
That's in her words. I didn't add anything, I promise. Even the last part. Even the size of print.
But, here's an even better one. This is from Domagoj (Doe-muh-goy).
He's our dishwasher here, which you would know if I ever wrote my meet n' greets! Notice that he's wearing the ugly hat that Oz picked specifically so no one would steal it??? Anyhow, back to poems.
LEANDRA
LeAndra, my our darling bright,
We miss you on Friday night,
You deprive us of your poem,
That would make Shakespeare look dumb.
On Wednesday nights you sing like an angel,
While sometimes you shout in anger,
I can't believe your sweet voice,
Can make such a horrible noise.
Those lovely freckles under your eye,
Can outshine a bright night sky.
Your strange and weird name,
Is the final fuel for your charming flame.
Of course, you can't have a poem like that and not have a response! So here is the one and only poem I have, or will, write all summer.
DOMAGOJ
Oh Domagoj, our darling bright,
We miss you this Friday night,
You deprive us the words of your crush,
The likes of which could make a girl blush.
Your head is so shortly shorn,
A lack of hair is no reason to scorn,
You can still wash dishes,
Better than anyone wishes,
You speak with such a Croatian accent,
Be still my heart, lest I need a stent.
Ah, the name is Domagoj,
To the ladies it brings such joy,
But your heart I have to break now,
You're just not my sweet-lovin' Dow.
Ok, so maybe it's not my finest work - accent, on a time constraint, is a hard word to rhyme - but I think he appreciated.
Until next time!
