Wild Mustangs (poem) by Sage Sweetwater on AuthorsDen

Wild Mustangs
by Sage Sweetwater → (All Poetry by Sage Sweetwater)
Wednesday, February 25, 2015 Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Sage Sweetwater is the name of Colorado Firebrand Lesbian Novelist, Poet, Storyteller, Screenwriter, Business Artist and Pulpit Agent. Sweetwater the lesbian icon of our century chiming in as the American lesbian poet trailblazer bought by Hollywood-Wall Street in film promotion. Poetry that sells!
Wild Mustangs spirits venerated a sacred ground where man camped on a dirt bed hospitably when three women came out into existence on his side of the barbed wire fence he looked for a synonym for "her" collectively in a crossword puzzle he punched out with his buck knife before the firestarter went into the campfire three wild mares from the C'Tro'Versy herd grazing up to their hocks in crested wheat grass antique sod dancers reborn of tarnished hooves in raw alliance with destiny and defiance in a timely exhibit of pure toughness and the freedom of undefeat when that ol' cowboy penciled in that synonym for that "woman" collectively it fit right like Dale and Roy he stood up and twirled his plymouth twine and lassoed a Randolph Scott line “don’t worry boy the lord’s bounty may not be for sale but the devil's is if you can pay the price” gutsy dog villains windchill sinners and headless careless prisoners shackled on the end of a chain gang the wild mustangs run free in every season random frostbite evidence leaving winter dung for coffin jugglers froze in mid-trick every good reason for Autry's Back in the Saddle to be sung Will Rogers said "always drink upstream from the herd and never kick a cowchip on a hot day the country has gone sane and got back to horses" he wrote in '33 in the month of may Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist

Reviewed by Ronald Hull

Reviewed on February 26, 2015

I remember sleeping in the dirt with an old wool army blanket. That scratchy old sleeping bag was too hot anyway most nights. And a mare was probably the most female companionship that a man on a range ever got in those days. Great to lay down beside her while she cut the wind and gave warmth when those blue Northerners blew so often in the winter of no retreat.

Ron