leanin' H
Well-known member
Been kinda melancholy hare lately. Now i feel like i have an upbeat attitude 99% of the time but winter can get to the best of us. Anyway, our family ranch has been passed down to my cousin and her husband who are fine folks. But they have made the decision that it is theirs now and the rest of us need to do our own thing. It's been coming for awhile but is now official. Such is life. Atleast the cattle and permit still belongs to a different cousin and her husband who kindly let me get in the way a lot. 
Anyway, here is my thoughts put to paper. Read at your own risk as my poetry has no warranty or garuntee of being worth much.
It was better than 100 years ago that my family first came west,
to settle the edge of the desert and live in the land God had blest.
They came to a land full of struggle, from Holland across the sea.
But they built and they bled and they died and they loved, here in the
land of the free.
This place must of been so different, with the heat and the dust and the snow.
Cactus blooms replaced pretty tulips. Cow and gardens they struggled to grow.
But they planted the seeds and prayed for rain, and carved out a spot for a home.
Nursed black willow tree's that stand to this day,
A monument more perfect than stone.
They raised good hereford cattle and they raised up a legacy too.
They cared for the land and they followed their dreams, under west desert skys so blue.
The years have passed and many of them now rest from the cares of the earth.
The ranch that they built and loved so much, has slowly lessened in worth.
It was passed down from hand to hand, one generation to another.
Slowly and sadly divided up, by cousins and even brothers.
Sure the house still stands and the trees grow tall,
but the welcome has gone away.
And some, like me, have shed more than one tear and are left without words to say.
Those that now own it, i am sure love it so.
They alone possess sacred ground.
While i simply have all of my memories
and the story i hope to pass down.
That's not to say ranching blood ceases to run
through my heart and my veins and my soul.
The link isnt broken, still stronger than steel.
Like the bond between mare and foal.
While the ground may be gone to another,
my dreams still give cause to hope.
As i build for my kids a foundation.
Cows to gather and horses to lope.
You won't find me setting here feeling sorry
for the things that i don't possess.
I still have claim to their legacy,
every step that i take, every breath,
every drop of sweat, every ounce of blood,
every laugh, every smile, every ache.
I am thankful to follow their footsteps,
regardless the pathway i take.
I will work hard to build my own place.
I'll be thankful for having the chance.
And I'll never forget what they left me.
You won't see it in just a quick glance.
Unless you come stand beside me, building corrals, packin' salt, planting trees.
Look past our few cows and the sagebrush,
and just listen to a soft desert breeze.
You might find yourself hearing their voices, when the noise of the day dies down,
and you stand at the fence checking cattle,
out here far from the lights of town.
Where my wife and I choose to sprout our roots,
our little outfit's just startin' to grow.
Where we try to honor their memory,
and the lifestyle they loved so.
This is my spot where God put me.
All i build someday might turn to dust.
But the love and legacy will forever live,
of that i know and i trust.
leanin' H
Darrell Holden 2012
Anyway, here is my thoughts put to paper. Read at your own risk as my poetry has no warranty or garuntee of being worth much.It was better than 100 years ago that my family first came west,
to settle the edge of the desert and live in the land God had blest.
They came to a land full of struggle, from Holland across the sea.
But they built and they bled and they died and they loved, here in the
land of the free.
This place must of been so different, with the heat and the dust and the snow.
Cactus blooms replaced pretty tulips. Cow and gardens they struggled to grow.
But they planted the seeds and prayed for rain, and carved out a spot for a home.
Nursed black willow tree's that stand to this day,
A monument more perfect than stone.
They raised good hereford cattle and they raised up a legacy too.
They cared for the land and they followed their dreams, under west desert skys so blue.
The years have passed and many of them now rest from the cares of the earth.
The ranch that they built and loved so much, has slowly lessened in worth.
It was passed down from hand to hand, one generation to another.
Slowly and sadly divided up, by cousins and even brothers.
Sure the house still stands and the trees grow tall,
but the welcome has gone away.
And some, like me, have shed more than one tear and are left without words to say.
Those that now own it, i am sure love it so.
They alone possess sacred ground.
While i simply have all of my memories
and the story i hope to pass down.
That's not to say ranching blood ceases to run
through my heart and my veins and my soul.
The link isnt broken, still stronger than steel.
Like the bond between mare and foal.
While the ground may be gone to another,
my dreams still give cause to hope.
As i build for my kids a foundation.
Cows to gather and horses to lope.
You won't find me setting here feeling sorry
for the things that i don't possess.
I still have claim to their legacy,
every step that i take, every breath,
every drop of sweat, every ounce of blood,
every laugh, every smile, every ache.
I am thankful to follow their footsteps,
regardless the pathway i take.
I will work hard to build my own place.
I'll be thankful for having the chance.
And I'll never forget what they left me.
You won't see it in just a quick glance.
Unless you come stand beside me, building corrals, packin' salt, planting trees.
Look past our few cows and the sagebrush,
and just listen to a soft desert breeze.
You might find yourself hearing their voices, when the noise of the day dies down,
and you stand at the fence checking cattle,
out here far from the lights of town.
Where my wife and I choose to sprout our roots,
our little outfit's just startin' to grow.
Where we try to honor their memory,
and the lifestyle they loved so.
This is my spot where God put me.
All i build someday might turn to dust.
But the love and legacy will forever live,
of that i know and i trust.
leanin' H
Darrell Holden 2012
