Author Archives: wfosterwelborn
Reach For The Stars
Always reach for the stars!
If you only achieve halfway,
you’ll have gone farther than most
Because they failed to even try.
Add feet to your dreams and prayers.
Start by writing them down,
including a beginning step to make them a reality.
Synergy will be created thereby.
Seek
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Seek not for that which is not,
Nor ever was.
Follow not after lies
Or man-made cause.
Seek out truth and
“Peace be still.”
Let your heart and soul
Be filled.
Seek for that which was
And still is.
Love and Life —
Both are His.
More precious than the Rubaiyat
of Omar Khayyam.
Seek and find the one
And only true “I AM.”
Attitude
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Almost anyone can do nothing.
It takes someone with vision to do something.
Cowboy’s Prayer
This comes from Autumn Leaves:
Now I lay me down to sleep
In open spaces
Lest I weep.
Saddle for a pillow,
Chaps for a spread,
Starlit canopy overhead.
And should I die
Before dawn’s break,
Thank you, Lord, for your fair shake.
Amen
The Cowboy
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
At the age of sixteen,
He was tall, hard and lean
As he began his long-dreamed-of quest.
On an old swayback nag,
He’d push, pull or drag.
He followed the setting sun west.
By a lightning-bolt chance,
He found work on a ranch
Where he grew into a man.
He worked hard every day
For very little pay,
But always he rode for the brand.
He worked for thirty and found,
As he glanced around town,
And strolled into the Lady Luck Saloon.
He ordered Rot-Gut-Red,
You know the fiery kind
That has to be sipped from a spoon.
When he was right,
He wouldn’t back down,
Never a question of budgin’.
If a man disagreed,
He could go for his gun —
Old Sam Colt would do the judgin’!
He learned to live by his word
As he helped round up the herd —
A cowboy’s life is sure tough!
He learned about whiskey,
Women and cards —
Why, he even learned to dip snuff!
On a north-bound trail,
Headed towards Kansas rail,
They sweated and worked without rest.
The deck was stacked
When the redskins attacked,
And he heard their loud, piercing yells.
O’er noise of bawling cattle,
Came sounds of the battle.
He clutched an arrow buried deep in his chest.
They found a six-gun by his hand,
His blood mixed with the land —
His dying words, “Tell ’em I done my best!”
Where the buffalo roam,
The young cowboy makes home,
A cross by a small bubbling stream.
He’s rode his last hoss,
And he’s roped his last steer,
But he’s fulfilled both his quest and dream!
Colorado
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Beautiful Colorado,
I offer you this salutation:
Your lofty grandeur and cold, clear streams
Have captured my admiration.
I’ve watches you each year, changing apparel
Through different seasons,
Each more beautiful than a melody,
And I’m enraptured for these reasons.
Your flowered aspen meadows turn green,
Then to red and gold;
In summer, your lofty mountains are bareheaded,
Yet white-capped in winter’s cold.
Quiet beauty of your secret places
Are in the eyes of the beholder,
Changes with the seasons,
Like colored pictures in a folder.
When first my eyes beheld you,
I knew from the start,
I was chained by your beauty
Like a horse harnessed to a cart.
Prayers, Dreams and Goals
When you pray for something, add feet to your prayers – Do something about it.
When you dream, add wings to your dreams – Take action, no matter how small.
If you have a goal, write it down and put it somewhere you can see it.
You will be reminding yourself that you are working towards and end,
not just wandering aimlessly.
Anyone can do nothing – It takes someone to accomplish something.
Don’t forget Synergy – an object in motion generates forward movement.
Remember Serendipity – Along the way, enjoy all the good stuff that happens.
Broken Dreams
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
It stands on a hilltop,
Abandoned, forlorn,
Weathered and beaten,
Shingles missing and torn.
What tales would it tell,
If talk it could?
Peeling paint clings
Precariously to ancient wood.
Its old warped floors
Probably knew tiny feet
Of children born there,
So cuddly and sweet.
Conversations crossed over
The old kitchen table…
Voices filled with hope,
And arms that were able.
With a heart full of prayer,
A bucket full of sweat,
They worked the land
The harvest to get.
No one left now
To toil on the land.
Tombstones out back
Mark the passing of man.
The old house now stands
Ramshackle, alone —
Its boards bleached out
Like a skeleton of bones.
A prayer holds it together
From breaking at the seams —
A monument to man
And his broken dreams.
wfosterwelborn 