​​​pistol fire


Welcome  Hunters, Fishermen, Cooks, Outdoors Men and Cowboys

My Poetry

Miserable At Best

When the Lightning cracked sideways and the sky belched with thunder, 
I looked from my friend back to the tree we were under.
The rain stings like needles when it blows in from the side,
And you feel a long ways from home when your boat comes untied. 
He shook his head gravely and yelled over the wind, 
“We gotta get our boat before it floats around the bend!”

I pulled my hood tight as I winced through the storm, 
And thought about home where the fire was warm. 
Or the hot roast beef dinner that mom was surely making, 
And could almost taste the pies that i knew she was baking.
I was brought out of my dream by another loud crash, 
Followed by Lightning in a blinding white flash. 
I then saw our boat as it drifted out of sight,
Completely marooned because the knot wasn’t tight.

I cursed out loud and then slipped in the mud,
Falling flat on my back with an enormous hard thud.
“Damn this whole week and to hell with this hunt,
I could kick my own ass for pulling this stunt!”
And Under that tree was nowhere to be, 
But where do you run when you can’t hardly see.
It’s times like these when you feel wholly alive, for the challenge becomes deadly when you’re forced to survive.

I reached for my gun as I looked back his way, 
Saying man we gotta run or be killed if we stay.
Darkness was closing in as we slipped our way down, crawling through the mud as we stayed close to the ground.
On to the bottom we made our decent, 
While cussing at the river between us and our tent. 
Like a thousand hard lashings we were stung by the rain,
Or maybe it was the hail that was causing the pain.

By now it was dark and we braced for the night, 
So we dumped out our packs and searched for the lights.
I found my head lamp and cinched it tight to my head, 
But the light flickered out because the batteries were dead! 
I looked at my buddy with a blank kind of stare,
Saying I’ve had enough and don’t know how much more I can bare. 
He grinned a big smile and said without doubt, 
“These terrible ideas are what good stories are about!”

Just when you’re anguished beyond disbelief,
Be happy you’re with a friend who is suffering the same grief. 
Because misery loves company when you’re chilled to the bone, 
And nobody wants to sit there and die all alone. 
Then you think of your old man and the words that he pled,
And how you were too stubborn to hear what he said. 
He’d been there before and told you to stay, 
But you just smiled and waved as you slowly drove away.

Now your boat’s down the river and you look up at the sky, 
Shaking your head you let out a long sigh.
“Ya know I’m gonna say it whether you like it or not, but you really need to start working on tying your knots.” 
Blame it all on your buddy when everything fails, that’s part of the adventure and what makes for good tales.