2006-06-10T09:16:00.000-07:00

Prairie Verses - with lyric studies

The Texas Panhandle
"Some Like It Hot" by Robert Palmer, 1987

Longhorn steers stagger, blistered, atop Stove Mesa.
Leather-dry tongues, curling, eyes even sweat.
Once sturdy hooves soften like melting candle wax.
Blood boiling, backbone baking, it’s a 128 degrees F.

Some like it hot and some sweat when the heat is on
Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on.

Sidewinders carving curves across hot sand.
Rodents burrow deep for cool root cellars.
Predator and prey share scarce shade in this swelter.
Finding shelter is urgent business, delay is death.

Feel the heat pushing you to decide
Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not

Old cowboys, sag almost prostrate, aching in the saddle
Their steady Appaloosas oozing foamy-white between the flanks.
Tumbleweed and Switch Grass crackle at every hoof-fall.
So hot it will make you cry, feet tinder dry, you’ll want to die..

Some like it hot, but you can’t tell how hot ’til you try
Some like it hot, so let’s turn up the heat ’til we fry

Kansas Golden Plains
Ameica the Beautiful

Nose tastes the sweet smell of ripening grain.
Corn, soybean, alfalfa abound in furtive fields.
Vast, fertile acres carefully tilled and tended.
Oh, how beautiful these golden Kansas plains.

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!

America‘s bounty! Harvest for the world!
Sweat shed in the honest labors of generations
Families of farmers toil from rise to set.
Seeding land, tending hearth, affirming self.

America! America!
God shed’ his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Blessed with courage, fortitude and dedication .
They preserver, unheralded heroes, proud citizens.
Pilgrims of the fields, bearing all misfortune, undiminished.
Tilling success with nobleness, loving country above all else.

O beautiful for halcyon skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the enameled plain!

Confirmed in soul by self-control, every gain divine.
Finding liberty by overcoming strife for their way of life.
Adversity ignored with faith implored, God’s healing grace.
Leaving legacy enduring, reward is merit in the Highest Place.

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till souls wax fair as earth and air
And music-hearted sea!

Dakota Buffalo
Lyrics, ”Home on the Range”
by Brewster Higley Traditional styling

Wooly rovers, in millions, roaming dominant and unmolested.
Waves of great buffalo spilling over the Dakota landscape.
Pungent with the musk of careless, carefree wandering.
Rumbling hooves beat out an anthem of freedom.

Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Honored, revered, to sustain the native Lakota Sioux.
Great Spirit’s gift of food, clothing and shelter.
Slaughtered without regard by wild-eyed white hunters.
Killed for trophy, heads severed, carcass left to rot.

How often at night when the heavens are bright
With the light from the glittering stars
Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours

Restored in enlightened times by men of conscience.
Managed by science, penned by fence, housed by man.
Cloistered from those beautiful for spacious skies.
Prevented from roaming in amber waves of grain.

Where the air is so pure, the zephyrs so free
The breezes so balmy and light
That I would not exchange my home on the range

Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

I, Nemo
With lyric study-The Navy Hymn

Adrift alone. I, Nemo
Last mate. Ship abandoned.

Even the rats have gone.
I call. No reply.

Sound alarm! No rescue.
Hope endures. Reality rules

Eternal Father, strong to save
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.

Gale rages. Decks awash.
Ship rocks. Thor roars.

Cold rain grips. Breathing slips.
Body shivers. Mind numbs.

Tempest tossed. All lost?
Escape vital. Last chance?

O Christ, whose voice the waters heard,
And hushed their raging at thy word
Who walkedst on the foaming deep
And calm amid the storm didst sleep:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.
Life raft launched. Provisions onboard.
Compass true. Course steady.

Faith strong. Spirit sound.
Body fit. Mind alert.

Flare fired. Signal returns!
Breathe relief. Survival assured!

O Holy Spirit, who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude
And bid the angry tumult cease
And give for wild confusion peace:
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea.

Prayers answered. Divinely protected.
God loves all. God shelters all.

Sacrificing His Son. Man’s sins gone!
Jesus saved us! Eternal life won!

Love’s Garden
in four seasons
With lyric study “The Rose”By Bette Midler - 1982

Amid daffodil, tulip and phlox
first love buds, springs new joy.
Discovering that honeysuckle kiss
embracing tight as climbing Rose

Some say love, it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
and you its only seed.

Amid daisy, lily and mint
lasting love renews, hearts hold true.
Savoring that honeysuckle kiss
rooting firm as English Ivy.

Some say love, it is a river
that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed.

Amid mum, aster, and sage
lost love forlorn, parts bitter-sweet.
Longing that honeysuckle kiss
bracing firm from Autumn storms.

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been to long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong,

Amid frost-frozen leaf decay
failed love dies, leaves only pain.
Mourning that honeysuckle kiss
sealing bliss in cold January tomb.

Just remember in the winter
far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose.

Amid all flowers, plants and greens
God’s love makes room for all.
Creating that honeysuckle kiss
His hand tills, Love’s Garden fills.

Poésie avec l'étude lyrique