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TIM HEDRICK
California
About Tim Hedrick

 

 

Teachin' Kids to Rope

I bought a ropin' dummy
just the other day
stopped at the barn on my way in
and grabbed a bale of hay

It was time to do some bondin'
with my two growin' sons
teach 'em somethin' useful
and maybe have some fun.

I was plumb excited
as I pulled into the yard
gave a grin, and said hello
to my two little pards.

You boys are gettin' older,
It's time you learned a skill.
You can practice when your chores are done,
and you've got time to kill.

I grabbed a couple of my old ropes
worn, and soft with use.
That way I save their little hands
from too much rough abuse.

I started with the basics
coil your rope, and build a loop.
They'd seen it done a million times
it should've been duck soup.

I showed 'em how to do it
keep your arm still, roll your wrist
don't grab to close to the honda,
and you've gotta unclinch your fist.

I got the oldest whirlin'
he was doin' fine,
he's a chip of the family block
when it comes to slingin' twine.

I turned my back, heard a choke
and thought " now what the heck"
turned to see he wrapped that loop
tight around his neck.

We got the rope untangled
before his face turned blue.
He sat down to catch his breath
whilst I helped number two.

That didn't go much better
but there really is no shame.
It was their first lesson
so I'm not the one to blame.

They get better with each lesson
we're even better pals.
I'm keepin a couple of ropin' steers
up close in yon corrals.

But like most kids, they practice
when the others back is turned
so they're both missin' patches of hide
where the ropes have burned.

I guess I shoulda known better
but heck my fate is sealed,
my wife says that she'll talk to me
when their necks are healed.

2013, Tim Hedrick, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's  permission.

 

Tim Hedrick comments:  The reason I wrote this poem is that my boys are about a year apart, and were learning to rope about the same time. They would rope each other, and anything else that moved, as kids will do. There was a time that they had rope burns all over from roping each other. My wife jumped my case about it on more than one occasion, and that's where this poem came from.

 


 

High Desert Christmas

It's time for friends and family
to kindly take their leave
You better hit your bedroll
cuz tonight is Christmas Eve.

Santy Claus is comin'
his sleigh is packed to go
He's got his wooly chaps on
and the team is caulked for snow.

He's got his mule kick hat on
you can bet it's pulled down tight
It's wild when the reindeer start movin'
and windy through the Sierras at night.

His sack is loaded down with goods
specially for the western lands
From the youngest to the oldest
he's got somethin' for all a the hands.

Inlaid spurs for Billy
and a rawhide quirt for Sue
A rollin' pin for mama
a horsehair mecate for Drew.

An A-fork saddle for Randy
new chaps for the youngest hand
braided hobbles for Rowdy
a shiny new hat for Dad.

he's got bedroll tarps, and slickers
an scarves in red, and blue
Boots, spur straps, and cinches
an reatas that fly sweet and true.

Ol' Santy is carryin' everything
to outfit a good buckaroo
If'n your on his good list
he's carryin' somethin' for you.

So hit your tarp, and try to sleep
though I know it'll be a fight
It won't be long until you see
Christmas mornin'n first light.

2013, Tim Hedrick, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's  permission.

 


 

Time to Leave

The new owners are comin' up the walk now,
a young couple still in their prime.
Their eyes, and faces not touched yet,
by sorrow, toil, and time.

They're startin' their life's grand adventure,
and he's proud to play his small part.
Age may have broke down his body,
but it sure has'nt broken his heart.

In the young man he sees the reflection,
of himself nearly fifty years gone.
Only memories are left here to hold him,
guess it's time he moved on.

His old eyes wander out over,
what in youth had been his domain.
He held on through good time, and bad time,
wind, and snow, and rain.

Memories come then like pictures,
of what he considers to be a good life.
All of the times that he's had here,
with his kids, and a loving wife.

The kids have moved to the city,
this life could'nt hold em here.
it's not somethin' he can begrudge 'em,
but it would be nice to have them near.

It's ten years since he lost the missus,
she passed right here in their bed.
but memories of her smile, love, and laughter,
have held him in good stead.

He shakes his old head with a smile,
and walks out to say his hello.
It's time he took his leavin',
now all that's left is to go.

2014, Tim Hedrick, All Rights Reserved
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's  permission.



Tim told us: I wrote this a few years back. I was leaving a ranch I had been at for several years. It's kind of a sad one, and to tell the truth I guess it fit my mood at the time.





 


   About Tim Hedrick:
                                               
provided 2013


I grew up in, and still live in a little ranching community on the coast of California. I spent time working as a ranch hand, working as a packer, and as a horseshoer. I am married to a woman endowed with a abnormal amount of patience, have two grown sons, a daughter-in-law, and one granddaughter. I write poetry about the things I know.




 

 

 

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