Close By Your Side
I want to be, close by your side
When you're not near me, I wonder why - I'm not a bird
To fly on wings, to where you are, to hear you sing
Then I could soar because of what I heard
Just to be near you, I'd be a bird
I want to be, close by your side
When you're not near me, I wonder why - I'm not a noble hound
With a nose and ears, to track you down, and calm your fears
I would protect you, I'd stand my ground
Just to be near you, I'd be a loyal hound
I want to be, close by your side
When you're not near me, I wonder why - I'm not a cougar
With cat's eyes to see, if you're in danger, as I roam through the trees
I would not harm you, no never that
Just to be near you, I'd be a cat
I want to be, close by your side
When you're not near me, I wonder why - I'm not a stallion
With a back so strong, and a silver saddle, to take you along
Then we could follow the trail's course
Just to be near you, I'd be a horse
I want to be, close by your side
When you're not near me, I wonder why
© 2002, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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You Didn't Say Goodbye
This mountain trail is taking me, high and lonesome through the pine
I turn and look off to the west, searching the valley one more time
Thoughts of you sweep over me, along with blue despair
I long to hear your gentle voice, but I know that you're not there
I've so many memories of you, the past few happy years
But now the rain from dark grey skies, is sad, and cold as bitter tears
I whisper questions to the wind, but the wind gives no reply
Now I'm all alone and wondering, why you didn't say goodbye
The blue moon is looking down and softly weeping
A night owl glides past making not a sound
A lone coyote is crying in the darkness
The sadness that I feel is all around
I remember when you needed me, to be there by your side
But I left to look for treasure, out there near the Great Divide
There was no gold so I returned, for the girl with silky hair
I long to hear your gentle voice, but I know that you're not there
If only I could find you now, to hold you by the hand
The hurting deep inside would stop, the pain would start to mend
Like birds before the winter wind, away you had to fly
Now I'm all alone still wondering, why you didn't say goodbye
© 2002, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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The Winter Twister
Ridin' for the Wahsatch, lookin' for some pay
A drifter said, the RD spread was needin' men today
Near played out in Texas, seekin' somethin' new
At the canyon's rim where the light is dim, just north of a big rock U
The wind comes outa that canyon, like a fifty caliber ball
It's a winter twister, it'll getcha mister, your saddle horse and all
Don't get caught in the whirlwind, it'll turn your skin pale blue
She'll take you apart with a knife through your heart, just north of a big rock U
Dodgin' n'dancin', duckin' n'prancin'
Tryin' to keep what I got
Through daggers n'tears, with frost bitten ears
From a fire that glows white hot
Don't get caught in the whirlwind, it'll frost your skin pale blue
She'll take you apart with a knife through your heart, just north of a big rock U
I hired on to wrangle, doin' the best I could
Saw the trail boss smile, likin' my style, claimed I was doin' good
Feelin' pround and trusted, while workin' with the crew
'Till the windy sky took the sight from my eye, just north of a big rock U
Ride out to the RD spread with your hat close to your ears
Cause that winter twister that'll getcha mister, comes through every year
Don't get caught in the whirlwind, it'll turn your skin pale blue
She'll take you apart with a knife through your heart, just north of a big rock U
© 2003, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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A Mother's Day Poem
M - is for the Many things you're good at.
O - is for the Ostrich in the zoo.
T - is for the Time you give your children,
H - is for the Heck they give to you.
E's - for Engineer because your are one. (domestic)
R - is for the Rings pierced in each ear.
Altogether backward they spell REHTOM,
A word that I remember once a year.
© 2003, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This poem was inspired by all the times I've seen a school class do the Mother's Day Classic and for some reason, the teacher seems to get the cards with the letters distributed backwards for the children to hold up as they sing.
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Untitled
Drifting through your eyes
Drowning in your smile
Ensnared among your tresses
So helpless all the while
Giving way to feelings
Wrapped in your embrace
Hearts swiftly beat in unison
To gaze upon your face
© 2004, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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A Get Well Poem
The boys in the bunkhouse are holdin' out hope
That what's gotcha ailin' moves on
Each one to a man, all agreed and said "nope"
When asked whether you were long gone
They all took a bet, when you'd be on your feet
You can tell when you've got some real pards
'Round the table at night, there's that one empty seat
And they sure miss your losin' at cards
"Oh! She'll be back", drawled Nate with a grin
"Just as soon as she's up and able
That ol' pain in the back, just can't do her in
'Cause it's her turn to clean out the stable"
For Jerry Brooks 11-7-04
© 2004, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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A Northern Utah Sunset
As the days start to get shorter, and the northwest wind blows cold
The cattle have been gathered up, shipped off and sold
I light up a fire in the old stove, then watch the sun disappear
In a northern Utah sunset, in the cold months of the year
Over wetlands of the Wahsatch, the ducks and geese fly away
A blue eyed dog, my pony and I, start home to call it a day
Over salt-grass fields seldom trod upon, to a girl that I love dear
And a northern Utah sunset, in the cold months of the year
Stopping on a sandy ridge, to watch the clouds blow free
Rolling like giant tumbleweeds, o're that great inland sea
My thoughts are of the first men, to pass across this land
As I wonder if Jim Bridger, ever stood where I now stand
The people on the passing trains, roll by going east and west
That lonesome whistle reminds us of our temporary guests
We'll offer them our friendship, and air that's crisp and clear
And a northern Utah sunset, in the cold months of the year
My heart belongs to this region, this is where I was born
A simple life with special friends, I ask for nothing more
From the islands of the Great Salt Lake, to the top of Willard Peak
That big West Desert, Canteen Springs, Ogden and Grouse Creek
We'll offer you our friendship, and air that's crisp and clear
And a northern Utah sunset, in the cold months of the year
© 1999, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
My first attempt at Cowboy Poetry. Most my material was written as song lyrics.
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The Wild Ride
Horse!
I'm on a horse
He's just plain crazy, and packin' deadly force
Off!
I've gotta get off
Eight seconds is too long to be sittin' here on top
Some pretty girl talked me into this loco ride
If I can just hang on, then maybe I won't die
Yell!
I want to yell
But it won't come out, I just need to yell
Pain!
And muscles strain
The beads of sweat, are like pourin' rain
I've been on other broncs but they weren't quite like this
This one is Satan's mount, I'm waiting for death's kiss
Help!
I need some help
Riders beside me, gotta save myself
Down!
Now I'm on the ground
And I'm still livin', with new faith found
That wild cayuse won't stop, he's turning on his heel
His eyes and breath are fire, my soul he wants to steal
Run!
I'd better run
He's headed my way, this is no dang fun
Jump!
Run hard and jump
Now I'm in fence range, I hit it with a hard thump
I'm up and over, landin' on the other side
I'll see another day, to make one more wild ride
I'm hurt, I'm bruised, at least she'll see I tried
But wait!
There by the gate
That pretty girl, she's with my good friend Nate
Why?
After my good try
Would she go and pick, that lucky guy
I'll never understand why gals to that to men
Someone hit me with your hat, if I ever do that again
9-28-99 13:00
© 1999, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This was written with all young cowboys in mind who are crazy enough to ride in a rodeo.
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The Map
The sky is dark, the rain is falling and soaks the shirt on my back
Lost and alone in the badlands, no pony, no dog or pack
Two hours ago a landslide, swept them all away
Now I'm fighting to live, to find my way out and survive this terrible day
Searching for gold and fortune, has been my greatest sin
My lust and greed for money, has nearly done me in
I worked a good job in Texas, on a spread called the Bar-2-J
When word arrived of California gold, I left that very day
I found my grub-stake, and bought a map, from a man for a dollar bill
It was in my hat when the landslide fell, so the map I carry still
I was warned to travel with others, but the wagon trains moved to slow
I could not wait to view the western sea and get my share of gold
The map said go west, northwest of Sante Fe, through Utah Territory land
Leave the Spanish Trail at Durango, on a cutoff through desert sand
The map was wrong, it did not show washes and steep canyon walls
I've been lost three days in a sandstone maze, among lizards and coyote calls
A summer storm dropped a downpour, the ledge we were under gave way
Although I jumped clear, my dog and mount were buried by sandstone and clay
The rain will stop, the heat will rise, real trouble will soon begin
This desert I'm in shall not forgive, I fear that it will win
If I find my way out, I vow to get home to the man that sold me the map
He'll be beaten within an inch of his life, then I'll take my dollar back
This map I hold was a swindle, it may now cost everything
My hunger for gold has put me in peril, in this maze where I'm wandering
© 2000, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This poem is about an area of Canyonlands National Park known as the Maze. To this day, it is very easy to become lost in the Maze and then perish from lack of water.
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Freedom
The cowboy's a man, he rides this big land
With his pony, they're both wild and free
Over desert and hill, singin' songs that can fill
The air of the warm summer breeze
Lookin' for strays, he's been out for days
Under sun that can make his skin leather
He smiles every day, can't live another way
Floating free like a wind blown feather
He came from the east, leaving all the big towns
The crowded streets and the noise
Riding out through the west in his four pocket vest
Feelin' good, he's a working cowboy
He loves the wide plain, even in a hard rain
It cleans up the smell of the cattle
All he wants is his pay at the end of the day
To buy him a fancier saddle
He thinks of his stay, down Mexico way
Riding with the Spanish Vaquero
But the heat and the dust that year were too much
So he rode to the mountains of powder snow
Some day he just may get a place of his own
Right now that's for other kinds of men
His rope and his gun, his saddle and the sun
Are all that he'll need until then
5-30-99 7:00
© 1999, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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Ten Dollars
Way out on the prairie, 'neath that big mid-western sky
Lived a good hard workin' rancher and his wife
They never missed the fair, every year in Douglas County
So grand, it was a high point their entire married life
Shorty was a small man, standin' only five foot three
Martha was somewhat a larger size
Together at the fair, they would stare with wild amazement
At the gadgets and the wonders they could see with their own eyes
It was always Shorty's wish to take a ride up in an airplane
But Martha kept on tellin' Shorty "No!"
They were folks of frugal wages, so Martha was against it
"Ten dollars is ten dollars, so Shorty you can't go"
Time went by and Shorty now was in his later sixties
Still, ten dollars was ten dollars just the same
He'd keep on tellin' Martha how the years were goin' by
And feared that he would never get to go up in a plane
Each year at the fair, they would have the same discussion
But this time Shorty's pleas were overheard
Standing near his bi-plane, was a man from Molt, Montana
Said to Shorty; "So you want to fly in my big yellow bird!"
The pilot's name was Larry, barnstormin' 'cross the country
He offered a free ride, but here's the deal
Martha goes along and the flight would cost them nothin'
If each of them stayed quiet, not scream or yell or squeal
This was Shorty's chance to take a ride up in an airplane
But Martha once again told Shorty "No!"
They were folks of frugal wages, and she was still against it
"Ten dollars is ten dollars, I don't think we should go!"
Shorty was real eager, Martha not as much
But they climbed into the back then said "OK"
Larry kicked his leg real hard and gave the prop a mighty pull
The engine came to life, so then the three were on their way
Shorty looked at Martha, she was starin' back at him
With her finger pressed real tight against her lip
She didn't want to hear sounds that would cost them hard earned money
So they sat back for the ride, above the fair in that air ship
Shorty lived his wish, as they soared up through the clouds
But Larry had a plan to get ten bucks
He knew maneuvers that would make the most stout hearted faint
He'd get these two t'yellin', with any kind of luck
Larry set the plane to divin', Martha's stomach hit her throat
But Shorty sat there with a big ol' grin
Loops and rolls, straight ups and backs, Larry did his very best
To get these folks to groan and moan, so ten bucks he could win
Larry didn't hear a sound, so he finally gave it up
Brought the plane back down to earth there at the fair
He yelled back to the couple, said; "I never heard a peep,
So the ride is free and hope you liked it way up in the air"
Shorty finally broke his silence as they taxied through the grass
There was somethin' he thought Larry ought'a know
Said; "I nearly spoke right up when Martha fell out of the plane,
But ten dollars is ten dollars, so I just let it go"
3-11-03 05:30 - 08:50
© 2003, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Every Thursday evening, the IAMA (Intermountain Acoustic Music Association) has a jam session at the Ogden City Airport. Every so often, a pilot named Larry Larson shows up after flying in from Molt, Montana. I understand he makes flying inspections of electrical transmission lines.
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Skatin' In the Blue
Oh Denise, shooby doo
Skatin' in the blue
Denise, shooby doo
In circles talkin' to
Denise, shooby doo
It's fun to skate with you
Denise, Denise
Up on your wheels of blue
Denise, Denise
I can't keep up with you
Denise, Denise
Just skatin' round with you
When we arrive,
It's usually dollar night
Too many school kids,
Keep us all skatin' tight
Denise, Denise
Keep rollin' straight and true
The lights are low, the songs are slow
It's best if we don't turn around
The spots spinnin' by close at our feet,
Are sure to make us fall down. Oh no no no! . . . .
Oh Denise, shooby doo
Skatin' in the blue
Denise, shooby doo
In circles talkin' to
Denise, shooby do
It's fun to skate with you
Oh when we stop,
And land upon the dice
The tootsie rolls,
We win are always nice
Denise, Denise
You can have mine too
Out on the floor,
Let's Hokey Pokey 'round
And when we shake,
We'll try to not fall down
C'mon 'n Chicken Dance
Until the music's through
The lights are low, the songs are slow
It's best if we don't turn around
The spots spinnin' by close at our feet,
Are sure to make us fall down. Oh no no no! . . . .
Oh Denise, shooby doo
It's fun to skate with you
Denise, shooby doo
In circles talkin' to
Denise, shooby do
We like to skate with you
12-2-06
© Jan F Erickson 2006
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
This is a parody of the 1963 song: Denise - by Randy and the Rainbows
My father worked at the Berthanna Roller Rink in Odgen, Utah. I skated from the time I was a toddler up to age 14. In February, 2006, two of my grandsons and I went to the Classic Fun Center in Layton, Utah. I wanted to show them how fun roller skating is. I've been returning each Tuesday and Thursday ever since.
There are several regular patrons like myself. Mike, Kirsten, Anthony, John, Tia, Bryan, Terrie, the Roller Derby Girls and Denise. For some reason, I developed an Earworm. (A song that stays in your head.) It was the song "Denise" by Randy and the Rainbows. It was popular when I was attending high school. Their lyrics were not appropriate in my situation, so I came up with my own.
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Saturday Evening - May 19, 2007 - 11:40 PM
Closeness becomes an addiction we crave,
As the crescent moon passes near Venus
Feelings and thoughts we share in the night,
Are the precious possessions between us
Though time and age will separate hearts,
Somehow, will be found a way
For souls to connect, to become just as one,
If only for a single day
The touch of two hands though gentle and light,
The memory can never erase
It signifies hopes of a day soon to be,
For a meaningful, tender embrace
Time passes so quickly before our goodbyes,
And we realize how fleeting it's been
Then moments grow long with the days that go by,
Till we see one another again
5-22-07
© Jan F Erickson 2007
