I'll Sing You All Home With Me

It's Christmas in Montana, to be sure, draped in her mantle of white

Though I am here with the rest of the crew, my heart is lonely tonight

The rancher & his wife they take good care of the rest of the crew & me

The wife, she prepared a great feast &…

April 20-26, 2014 is Cowboy Poetry Week. I thought I would share one of my own poems, written in 2007, a tribute to te Irish cowboy.

Right: Jeff Streeby, Cowboy Poet, in the dining room of Man of Aran Cottage, Inis Mor (©2005 C.E.Devine ~ Rincon Creek…

 The Wild Swans at Coole

by William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,

The woodland paths are dry,

Under the October twilight the water

Mirrors a still sky;

Upon the brimming water among the stones

Are…

Inis Mór

It is the call of the sea and the crashing waves

the songs of men given up to watery graves

The fishermen's chatter and pony cart's clatter

The seal's call and the wild rain splatter…

Ireland: In Word and Image

By Jay Ben Adlersberg

Welcome Books, 272 Pages

On Sale Via Amazon.com October 22, 2013

Pre-Order Price: $42.70 (List Price $60.00)

A Review by Catherine Lilbit Devine

There is…

From the Frontier Of Writing

The tightness and the nilness round that space

when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect

its make and number and, as one bends his face

towards your window, you catch sight of more

on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent

down cradled guns that hold you under cover

and everything is pure interrogation

until a rifle motions and you move

with guarded unconcerned…

I identified strongly with this poem from the first time I heard it spoken. Much like the follower that was Seamus in his childhood, I followed behind my father and grandfather as they worked cattle and handled ranch duties ... mimicking, getting under foot and learning, growing, as I did.

And now ... in the silver times, my father is slowing, jabbering on, following my lead ... sometimes: 

Follower

My father worked with a…

After watching the video of Genetic ghosts, I kept recalling one of my poems, written in preparation for our first performance tour in Ireland back in 2005. I set to understanding the feelings I awakened during my visit the first year in the only way I knew best, rhythm and rhyme.…

It is the call of the sea and the crashing waves…

SPRING

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring --

When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;

Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush

The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush

With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this…

In a way of introducing myself, I thought I might share some of my "Trail Tales" from previous journeys home...

I think we shall start with this one:

Sing Us a Song, Cowboy!

By Catherine Lilbit Devine © August 18, 2006

Whispers of the West has made our second journey to the Emerald Isle to perform our Music…