Pony of Mine
Pony, take me south to see
mountains, meadows. Lucky me!
Take me past the waterfall
trot by woods where trees are tall;
prance along the forest trail
by the stream where leaf-boats sail;
race the wild ones you’ve befriended,
play until the day has ended.
Tell your newfound friends goodbye
as the sun drops from the sky.
Make your little feet take flight
homeward bound before the night.
In your stable may you sleep,
Little Pony, mine to keep.
© 2013 Freeda Baker Nichols
My blog seems to have turned into pictures, prose and poetry.
As an amateur photographer, I love picking that one good shot out of ten snaps.
I feel the same about poetry. I might write ten in order to get one that interests an editor or a contest judge. Pictures and poems are fun to work with, but fiction is my favorite type of writing. When I was a teenager, I attempted to write short stories. Probably I still have some of them in my files. I don’t know why I like to write. But the desire and dream to write became a part of me when I wrote my first poem on that Big Chief tablet, at age nine.
I continued to write stories after I married. But when the children began to arrive, my writing dream and time for it disappeared beneath Birdseye diapers and was lost in rock-a-bye-baby tunes as I nurtured four babies. Not all at once, mind you, but spaced just far enough apart to keep me in mommy mode from the firstborn’s arrival until the last one left home. Those years were the best years of my life, but when the nest was empty, I clicked over to writing mode and began my adventure into the publishing world. Writing is not a hobby, it is my destiny. Although I have only a humble beginning of published works, the venture has been worthwhile. As a mommy, or as a writer, you gotta believe in your babies. It’s just as the country song says, “Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys.” So writers, “Don’t let your stories stay too long in your files. Find them a home on the shelf.” –Freeda Baker Nichols
Today is day one of rodeo time.
I’ll watch the big horses spin on a dime.
I’ll see the rope in my grandsons’ strong hands
go ’round a calf’s head in Cowboy Land.
The hooves of the horses will stir the dust.
It’s grandsons’ goal “Take home trophy” or bust.
The sun is hot. Cowboy hats in place.
A smile is plastered to each cowboy’s face.
Cowgirls also compete in this event.
It’s a day worthwhile–it’s a day well-spent.
Team ropin’, tie goats, the poles, break away;
bull ridin’, mutton bustin’, through the day.
Grand entry, the pledge, and a time to pray.
Cowboy Church sponsors the Rodeo Day.
Copyright 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols
once owned this big quarter horse–
Cowboy owns him now
rancher called him BOB
the brand is for Big Old Boy–
Cowboy named him Tex
nostrils flare and snort
ground shakes with thunder of hooves–
Tex the quarter horse
bridled and saddled
Big Old Tex wins the barrels–
young boy’s dream-come-true
c Copyright 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols
All Rights Reserved