Wednesday, July 31, 2013

' Blossom

Couldn't work at the saloon
cos I always kept a derringer in my garter
and anyways I wasn't that kind of girl.

Went and bought me a fine horse,
then built a bonfire and burnt up all my hoops and corsets
cos,
you guessed it,
I wasn't that kind of girl.

Stuck around town a while,
whilst I got provisioned.
When the corner boys laughed, I invited 'em to dance
to the music of my new friend Mr. Colt .45.

Coulda stuck around town,
raising chickens and fillin' a pew every Sunday,
but I wasn't that  kind of girl, neither.

So I lit out.
Made the moon my friend and bathed in the stream,
just adding a little scent that lasted until the current took it.

Days I didn't bother getting gussied up
for the prairie dogs and critters, cos they don't care.
Whistled a tune and nobody told me "Woman, hush!"

I'd-a plugged 'em if they did.

Pulled my hat down low over my eyes,
and listened to the eagle cry the same song that lived in my soul.
Nights, a good fire and a dime novel was all I need.

Got lonely, though.
Started to pine for that blacksmith's daughter,
the one that used to half smile as I went by,
makin' my heart ring like a hammer on an iron shoe.

Finally went back into town for biscuits and rose water,
payin' no mind to the weaker sex, with their scruffy beards,
until one of 'em shouted, "Hey mister!" and slap his knee laughin'.

I started to ride by--
didn't come for no trouble,
and I was dusty from the trail and not feelin' my very best,

but then I straightened my back
and brought my horse around as the afternoon sun went behind a cloud.
"Better step out in the street," I told that man.

I hadn't used the Colt in a month of Sundays,
but as my fingers flexed just touching the handle,
it all came back to me just like makin' a pie crust.

Sam Colt got a way of sobering up a loud man,
and he just looked down at his boots and mumbled,
"Sorry Ma'am."

I still had half a mind to put one between his eyes, just for the practice,
but then that blacksmith's daughter was at my side, saying,
"C'mon honey. Let's fetch some sweet tea."

She give me that half smile,
and said she knew a place where I could shake out my hair
and get fresh.

That's when I remembered what kind of girl I am,
and it put the dip back in my hip
and the glide back in my stride.

'Blossom's back in town,
and y'all had better 
show a lady a little respect.
________ 


17 comments:

TexWisGirl said...

sassy girl! :)

Helen said...

Dip in my hip .. glide in my slide? Whoa girl, whoa!!!

Buddah Moskowitz said...

R-E-S-P-E-C-T! and big ups for this.

Sara said...

LOL I loved this one. First of all, reading really brought out my Southern accent and it made it so much fun. I loved the confrontation with the man, but my favorite lines were:

"and it put the dip back in my hip
and the glide back in my stride." That's so much fun and I glad the "Blossom's back in town." :~)

hedgewitch said...

Yippe-yi-yo-back off, greenhorn.
Yes, Mr Colt will bring an element of seriousness to any discussion.

I love the exploration of what kind of girl we're really talking about here, and every step she takes is as authentic as a Lady Stetson full of alkali water for her pony. The laid back lingo alternating with the swift draw of poetic image is like light on the high chaparral, deceptively mild, but anything but cold, and under its partnership with the wild wind, it makes the tumbleweed tumble. A fine blast from the high plains, Ms 'Blossom. I'm ready for a glass of that sweet tea myself.

PS One of my favorite tunes--too bad you can't ever find the Dan Hicks version out there. This one was excellent, though.

Sioux said...

Shay--You could do a whole book full of "Blossom Does the Wild West" poems and I'd be quite happy.

This poem was definitely a good time.

Mama Zen said...

Damn right!

HermanTurnip said...

WooHoo! That was one heck of a ride! So glad to see you back in form, back in town, and back in the saddle!

Honestly, I could have used a few more stanzas on this one. Supremely entertaining.

Cynthia Baker said...

Love it!

Joanna Jenkins said...

Sam Colt got a way of sobering up a loud man... Love that.

I liked this one very much, Shay.

Thanks, jj

Carol Steel said...

Whoa, that's beautiful. The line "the cry of the eagle the same song that lived in my soul" made my skin shiver with it's perfection. This is work well done.

TALON said...

A pure delight, Shay! Loved it!

Kerry O'Connor said...

I tried to leave a comment yesterday, but it was gobbled.. I came back to tell you again how much I love your characters - the combo of humanity and goddess insures that your poetry always reads like latter day mythology.

G-Man said...

Yeah Yeah, you can shoot a gun Annie Oakley, now go fetch me some vittles....

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Fabulous! Especially the eagle cry - same as the song in her soul.

Lynn said...

Woo hoo - love this cowgirl poem. :)

Susie Clevenger said...

Love it! Love calling males the weaker sex! I was smiling all the way through this.