Some say money don’t make a person happy,
It damn sure don’t hurt your feelings none.
Slid down a money slide in a poker game,
I now had my nest egg fair and square won.
I realized by this time I was plumb exhausted,
Felt like I had a day’s work done with a pickax.
Now I could become invisible and get out of town,
To put my feet up on the hitching post and relax.
My face beaming in sunlight, my eyes free of smut;
Nothing is forever, one’s happiness is anything but.
Who would have ever believed me to reach my 50s;
In this glorious, God-given year within the 1870s.
The war had been hard fought and we finally won;
The most difficult thing in my life I have ever done.
Many done died by then, life expectancy what it is;
Life drains for many in their 40s thru leaky sieves.
I had a few holes that I was able to plug up at best,
I had me some luck to escape dyin’, unlike the rest.
On the open plains, there was always fear of Injins,
Their wild war hoops enough to scare Arabi jinns.
Sure enough didn’t a party creep up from behind,
Just sittin’ in the shade with no thought in my mind.
Hard to reckon how they manage like a cat creepin’,
Put to shame a gang of outlaws who come agallopin’.
They dispensed with the niceties being easy prey,
Grabbed hold of my scalp, but I had nothing to say.
What did it matter about my happiness right then?
I could only reflect on a fate that might have been.
My blood was still pumpin’ but I felt drained of hope;
I might just as well be hangin’ down dead on a rope.
My spurs would be tinklinn’ as I kicked out my heels;
Here’s dying for you, now I really know how it feels.
But dying would have to wait for another fair day,
Now the injuns were stunned with nothing to say.
A black crow descended blithely on extended wing,
The injins were spooked as my heart began to sing.
Confused, bamboozled, I’d like to fill up my nappy,
Now I know what it means to be completely happy.
Those wild savages just picked up and went away,
Disappearing like early morning mist in God’s pay.
Completely out of the ordinary for you, John. Your poetry has no limits, it seems. I like that in a poet, and I like this poem. As I read it my mind and your words conjured up old black and white movies. Made my day.
Story inspired by life of the author's great grandfather, a Black Cowboy who kidnapped his Native American bride after a cattle drive from Waco, TX to Dodge City, KS. Their story, him a master horseman and her a trained to be a healer with herbs and
Love ya!
Jane