WYOMING RED
 

With nostrils flared and wind in mane,
the steeds ran wild across the plain

Quick to find secluded pools

to drink from waters clear and cool

In  spring, the foals would join the herd,
upon sweet grass their births occurred

But none was greater born to mare,
with golden mane and reddish hair

Wyoming Red, his given name,
wild horse of legend’s claim to fame

Broad of shoulder, strong proud head,
coat that glowed like molten lead

Stamping, prancing, snorting steed,
driving herd with lightning speed

With swift actions, bold and brave,
his harem horses quickly saved

                  Mighty blaze with wary stare,
                        rearing hooves, and white teeth bared
 

Met his foe with furious fire,
and rankled every suitor’s ire

Men tried to capture, rope and tame,
this stallion’s stalwart, stocky frame

With lassoes circling o’re the stud,
stark fury racing thru’ his blood

The stallion let no lariat
touch his long, sweat-glistened neck

Instead he whinnied great alarm
to keep his mares from every harm

                     * * * 

Now, those days have come and gone
but the legend of old Red lives on.

Folks claim he prances on a cloud
and say when thunder gets too loud

”Fear not that roar heard overhead-
It’s just the hoof beats of old Red.


 

THE WAY OF IT

Is it the spirit within us,
or is it adventure we seek
to travel beyond the wild side,
not stay in our traces quite meek?
The way of the wild is our nature,
challenges- mountaintop high-
searching for life's rich fulfillment,
or looking to God asking, "Why?"

As children, we see things so different,
no bonds to hold back the mind,
no fears, no woes, no self-conscience-
only the true ties that bind.
From birth we are tested and labeled
to form to a socialized scale,
maybe for better or for  worse- I don't know,
but sometimes it seems much like hell.  

Torment and guilt put us under-
not always from what we have done,
but rather from what we are taught
as right or wrong since life's begun.
Stresses unleashed on our ego,
competing for goals to succeed-
but are they to bathe in the glory,
or are they for purpose and need?  

Let me live free as the creatures
on Earth and under the sea-
my soul needs rest from life's sorrows-
my person wants just to be me.  

   Tamara Hillman
    ©2007 All rights reserved.
   

               About the author...TAMARA HILLMAN
   Tamara Hillman was raised in a ranching/logging community in the northern part of Washington state.  Her father was a logger, and her family lived on a twelve acre farm where they raised everything they ate. Chores and hard work were a part of her everyday life- necessary in order to exist. The farm was located in the beautiful Methow (pronounced Met-how) Valley, where she enjoyed a wonderful childhood in the country.  Milking cows, slopping hogs, feeding chickens, mucking out, hoeing a huge garden, canning and picking fruit in the fall, were just a few of the chores performed by Tam and her siblings. But Tamara says that it was not all work and no play, for each day consisted of adventures with her two brothers,  neighborhood kids, and animal friends.  In spring and summer months― she ran barefoot, rode horses, played in haylofts, swam in frigid river waters, sat on the fence while watching cowboys brand cattle or break wild horses, and slept under the stars on warm nights. And in fall ―she spent the days daydreaming while kicking through red, yellow and orange leaves that floated to the ground from birch, quaking asp, oak, and maple trees. And in winter, she remembers how she rode horses, while catching snowflakes on her tongue; how she enjoyed  sucking ice sickles, sledding and tobogganing, building snow castles, ice skating, and having just plain good ol’ outdoor-fun in the cold, snowy countryside.

      Tamara's memories of farm and ranch life come alive in her new book, TALES OF B S SCRUGGS. This book tells about a small town in Texas named Cobalt and its salty and colorful inhabitants. The main character in the story is a grizzled old cowboy who spins tales of his past life and writes and recites cowboy poetry for the Cobalt community. In this way, Hillman weaves fragments of her poetry throughout the book.  It transports you to the imaginary world of Cobalt, and when you're finished reading this book, you  feel like you've lived there!  It was written by a writer who has lived the cowboy western life...and she makes it come alive in TALES OF B S SCRUGGS. She is adept at weaving into her story, rich details about farming and ranching life that would  be known only to someone who has lived it.

       Hillman is a skillful writer of dialogue; and a fine writer of western fiction. She is also a praiseworthy poet who can write colorful verse like "Wyoming Red"; and follow it up with a fine introspective poem with depth, like "THE WAY OF IT".  She has authored three books of cowboy poetry-“PURE COUNTRY”, “DUSTY TRAILS” ,and "HEROES AND VILLAINS OF THE OLD WEST".

  For more information about TALES OF B S SCRUGGS and her three books of cowboy western poetry, contact Tamara Hillman; westernpoetess@yahoo.com  

      You can read more of her poetry on "Cowboy Poetry at the Bar D Ranch":
         http://www.cowboypoetry.com/tamarahillman.htm


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