It's Cowboy Poetry Week.  April 21st through 27th.

Check out cowboypoetry.com

The song you are hearing is " Don't Tell Me" sung by R.W. Hampton and written

by Mike Beck

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I have been writing poetry since childhood.  I went to my first Cowboy Poetry gathering in Elko NV. in 2008 where I participated in the open mic sessions.  I’m on the wrong side of the Mississippi.  I didn’t know there was such a thing till that year.  What is it about cowboy poetry?  My dear friend Brooksie said it best.

"Why poetry?  Why a life long love of the well-crafted lines?  Well, if we were able to define or describe feelings, they wouldn't be feelings.  Poetry is as close as we can come to communicating the feel—with feeble words." 
Jerry Brooks

Pick up a CD when you come to visit, or call me and I'll mail you one.

For more information about Cowboy Poetry check out

 www.cowboypoetry.com

                          My Heart Beats Free

 Oh how I loved them TV shows and the stories I'd read,

About the cowboys and their horses free and brave.

Heroes to us young boys, a rare and special breed.

Taught us how true men should behave.

And I'd dream about someday and I'd dream about the west.

And I'd dream about the man that I would be.

And I felt that man's heart beating inside a boy's chest,

And I knew that heart would die if not set free.

So I'd saddle up ole Sugar Foot and I'd hit a mountain trail,

And time and place and boredom were no more.

I was Little Joe or Blue Boy, riding the High Chaparral.

There were fights to fight and new worlds to explore.

And there were outlaws and Indians behind every tree,

But I was savvy to their wild and wily schemes.

Sometimes we would fight em off, sometimes we would flee,

But we were always heroes in my cowboy dreams.

And I've lived the life I've chosen, and I've LIVED it, every day.

I've fought them fights and I've seen new places grand.

I've learned to laugh and learned to cry and when to just ride away,

And the best of times are usually those unplanned.

Years pass by so quickly and living takes its toll,

And these old bones are broken, tired and sore.

But deep inside I'm peaceful, in my heart and soul,

Though I know there'll come a time, I'll ride no more.

And I dream about yesterday and I dream about the west,

And I dream about that boy I used to be,

And I feel that boys heart beating inside this man's chest,

And I thank God that young boy's heart was set free.

Keith Ward  2012