Mother Natures Sons

 

Tony lived out in the country

on a hundred acre estate

There on our throne, we called Tombstone

is where we would tempt our fate

On what we called the back forty

set the barn where our ponies stayed

There we could count, each trusty mount

to partner in each game we played

 

 

We picked up our neighbor Georgie

from a bit farther down the lane

 In an hours course, saddled each horse

then set off with the morning rain

Georgie always rode ole Rusty

a stud with a mind of his own

Tough and so wild, mind of a child

ole Rusty was bad to the bone

 

We never went on safari

without carrying BB guns

Which we toted, locked and loaded

we were all mother nature’s sons

We had mastered our universe

or to us at least it seemed so

That afternoon, we shot a coon

how he escaped I'll never know

Off we raced to Lost Creek

our favorite watering hole

Crazy Rusty, hot and dusty

rode out on point for this patrol

Out past the neighbors fields of corn

our club house in the willow tree

The winding lane, a weather vane

to the creek that ran to the sea

 

 

We tied the horses to a tree

in the grass by the swimming hole

Piled up the rocks, just like Fort Knox

making it deeper was our goal

All afternoon we played out there

shooting targets off the ridge

Saddled each horse, and in due course

we set off for the cement bridge

 

 

The bridge barely cleared the water

where the rain had swollen the creek

So now it ran, over the span

as it had the entire week

Now George of course wanting the lead

headed for the top of the ridge

He couldn't see apparently

the algae that grew cross the bridge

 

 

He met the bridge at full gallop

Rusties shoes slipped as he went down

George screamed "Oh crap," and with a snap

broke his leg and began to drown

 We both jumped in and pulled him out

caught his horse and threw him back on

Pain made him hurl, he screamed like a girl

any dignity was now gone

 

 

We drug him back to his mothers house

where she promptly rushed him to town

Tony and I, both waved goodbye

determined that we wouldn't frown

We camped under the stars that night

each wrote out our Wills in a draft

Tony turned in, and with a grin

said "tomorrow we build a raft"

Author's Note

As a boy Tony Williams and I were most fortunate to have his families hundred acre estate to roam on. In a fool-hearty downriver adventure. He and I had attempted to ride the current during a storm upon a tube with a door atop it. The tube struck a fallen tree downstream and turned under the water. We both thought it was the end. Happily we both bobbed up on the other side and floated 6 miles down to my grandfathers Eddies bridge where we secured a ride home. On the way home Tony said "Well this day is shot all to hell! One didn't know what might come next with Tony. But one things for sure, another day meant another adventure.

Reviews

[Clayton Bardwell]

Another wonderful adventure well told. I often wonder what those poor dear soul who do not write do with their memories.

The neighbors bedroom window faced my backyard. Did I think they wouldn't know it was me who put the BB holes there?

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Clayton I always thought on childhood as a gift.I was drug into adulthood kicking and screaming

[Tate Morgan]

i put a few bb holes in my neighbors as well lol

[Barbara Walker]

Your words bring such wonderful images to mind, both those in your poem and the images your words bring to my mind-of my own past, when young and free, and it was more than enough just to be. And everyday you could be someone else, a cowboy, a doctor, the head of an exposition to the north pole, an Indian with a teepee or a thousand other things and the end only came when your Mom called you into the house after dark. Thanks for the memories, Tate!

[Tate Morgan]

Life was a joy back in the day wasnt it

[Jack...]

This reminds me so much of my youth that I found myself sitting at my desk daydreaming as I pondered what comments to write. Thank you so much for that brief moment in the past. The poem was awesome.

[Tate Morgan]

jack you seem quite a bit like me and I imagine we grew up in similar situations.I feel sad for the kids now.No futurews so to speak and no memories to fall back on

[Becky C Strukamp]

I enjoyed reading of your adventure with your friends. Our lives really are enriched with many stories to tell. And I relish each one of yours that I read.

[Tate Morgan]

thank you i always like sharing memories with you

[Becky C Strukamp]

It's a pleasure that you share your life in this way. You are a truly gifted writer, artist and beautiful person.

[lee von cleef]

Timing, life is timing, and time swirls a lost loop of our life's events, they are not there ....then I read a piece like this and they bud and bloom, dogwood bright across the page. How did we survive ? My dad said "We were raised tough, and we were." I would have to say you were too. That grit around our girth gives readers a wave at a authenticity disappearing from life of today.

[Tate Morgan]

Not far from my present home sits a swimming hols called Dog wood valley where we use to play as teenagers. I know we were raised hard. i cleaned stalls bailed hay watered the horses and wrapped their legs .This every time we visited my father.I imagine we would be arrested for such things now lol But it is what carves a mans character. It also teaches us what we are capable of. heres to those who conquered the west and raised the cities walked on the moon and in general lifted the spirit of humanity as they floated down the great river to the sea.

[bluessadmood]

what a lovely story my friend,how so american..
and how could tell it better than you ,so poetic
i could smell even the air and the whole scene
i really lived it all through,great poetry
lovely write..

[Tate Morgan]

Blue so long i have waited to hear from you again.i realize my childhood must seem so foreign to your own.But in us all is the heart of a child and the hope for all humanity 'Your friend
Tate

[bluessadmood]

my friend dear Tate how i really miss you,been away for long,you know how it is here,its getting bad every day,how ever dont want to trouble you,and your serene life,you are doing great here so i see,this is a good land for giants like you,land of poetry

[Tate Morgan]

Blue I assume things have gotten worse there as the syrian war spills into all the outlying countries.I would love to hear from you how your life has been this last year and what it is like there now . We hear nothing here they keep the truth hidden from us all .The rare occasion we hear something on the BBC but even that is rare now

[bluessadmood]

i am sure dear friend they dont tell..its really like hell..there were like times like a truce,but never real peace,and now syria,poor miserable people,iraq and iran,the governments of course are siding with the brute ASSAD killing his own poor people by the dozens,imagine a ruler bomb his people with scud missiles day and night,supplied by stupid Russia,our hearts goes for them for you must know we are two nations syria and iraq been so close for ages,even inter-marriages..and iraq government fears the revolution there may win so its cracking on us fearing that it will go down too,its very complicated ,hope you get the picture,really sad some 100 thousands already killed in syria ,millions are refugees,and left all alone,against a very powerful army..

[Tate Morgan]

Humanity amazes me so capable of greatness But the mirror reflection also so true.So capable of destruction and pain poverty and despair. I fear the turmoil will continue like dominos from one country to the other and on and on and on

[bluessadmood]

ha ha,for us nothing could be so bad,for we ve see much darker days,but now i only fear kidnapping and shootings by silent guns all orchestrated by iran,they are killing doctors and college professors too,just to bring more chaos in a country already shattered,believe me i cant get out of my house only for strong reasons otherwise i never leave home..what a life.

[Tate Morgan]

what a life oh how I wish i could spirit you away to the states and a kinder existence I have to run to work Ill be thinking of you today

[hundi]

your work always makes me think, whether it's my children , my childhood or "grannies", it always provokes me to think back, and I enjoy that , thank you

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you very much so nice to hear from you

[Michael G.]

Great childhood adventures and memories, though I figure George might remember it differently. Excellently crafted story.

[Tate Morgan]

Thanks Michael I suppose we all have tales to tell.My own seem so vivid in my mind

[Michael G.]

Keep putting them down, Tate. They are "worthy."

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you my own seem so quaintly humble in comparison to some

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A touching piece that negates wonder in all your readers, well done, good read.

[Tate Morgan]

You are too kind

[James Hanna-Magill]

Dear Tate Morgan

We have become friends on this website.

I have read and reviewed you before.

Now I read you again.

And once again I have learnt at least one part of the reason why we are friends.

I have read your profile, I have read your author's note.

I have read your piece.

But too I have seen the photos and I have listened to your music.

The beauty of this site is that one may mix all the arts, writing, graphic and sound.

And you have mixed them again so well here.

In reviewing you as I do anyone, I look at style.

I look at structure.

I look at rhymes; complexity; simplicity.

I look at colour or the absence thereof.

I look, as best as I can at everything I can perceive.

But above all throughout that, I seek meaning; the meaning of the author's life and in his / her writing.

I review as I review depending on how I feel at the time.

All I can give you is what I have to offer.

Now your meaning.

Be it that you have a message to give or just a colour (I believe you seek to do both here) you need to have an attractive story to tell to draw the reader in.

And you do.

Thoughts?

Just mine.

Bits and pieces as they come.

My style of reviewing for good or ill.

As last time, you buy me into a life (in childhood) I have never known.

It is your experience not mine.

But therein lies entirely its beauty.

I may have worked in the US, but I know nothing of the Wild West, except what I have read in 'Cowboys and Indians' books or films as a child.

But you take me there again as an adult and you drown me in your world, a world so different from my own in childhood in war torn Belfast and I feel comfortable in it and want to live again your upbringing with you.

All of my senses were immediately assaulted by opening this piece of yours.

You do immediate music, immediate graphics before I hit the words.

Then I address the words.

And again you enchant me.

There is so much colour in here of meaning, I am blinded by it.

But I want to keep this brief (er?) if I can (for once?!).

You sell to me Mother Nature in all Her Glory.

But above all, you tell me however colourful, life in the end is not black and white, it can only ever be multiple shades of grey.

I need not tell you what you and everyone else already knows.

But I will anyway.

You are a perfectionist poet.

Keep sharing.

I for one wish to listen to what you have to say and how you say it, again, and again and again ...

You are a product of Mother Nature, as much as I and anyone else, be they on this site or elsewhere on this planet we call earth.

There is a majesty to your writing whatever other trials you face in life, I or anyone else.

Keep sharing Tate Morgan.

I believe in you.

Should this make sense; or should it not; it is what I have to offer you today in all sincerity.

With my kindest regards as ever.

Your friend

James Hanna-Magill

[Tate Morgan]

James Every time I receive a review by you I feel as If I should be in my vestments,. It feels like I am receiving a honorary degree or the medal of honor.Whether intentional or not the honor is truly all mine.
Thank you
Your friend in this lifetime and the next
Tate

[James Hanna-Magill]

Dear Tate.

In our past lives.

In the present.

In the future.

And into eternity.

Together.

Come what may.

Your friend,

James

[James Hanna-Magill]

Dear Tate

At times on here I feel like I am the grand ol' man of rock n roll.
read moreDear Tate

At times on here I feel like I am the grand ol' man of rock n roll.

Thing i,s believe me, as you know I rocked the world's head off and some.

But did I ever roll?

Saplings survive because they bend.

Old oaks fall over because they don't.

Maybe I never rolled.

Maybe instead I just walked straight into the wall of life and fell back flat on my face.

And so?

It is what it is Tate.

I cannot change my past.

But I can change the present and future.

Perhaps from mighty oaks do acorns grow.

I can only hope so for all our sakes.

James

[Tate Morgan]

I imagine you will persevere. Life isnt meant to be really hard .But for many it is just that. I hope through sharing we learn to navigate the winding roads of discontent

[James Hanna-Magill]

Sharing is all Tate, my friend.

We have done, do and shall.

J H-M