Presenting "WYOMING RED"  by Tamara Hillman




 


 

WYOMING RED

With nostrils flared, and wind in main
 the steeds ran wild across the plain

Quick to find secluded pools
no drink from waters clear and cool

They roamed the valleys, plateaus high
and danced across the midnight sky

          * * *


In spring, the foals would join the herd,
upon sweet grass their births occurred

 But none was greater born to mare
with golden mane and reddish hare

Wyoming Red, his given name,
wild horse of legends claim to fame

Broad of shoulder, strong, proud head,
 coat that glowed like molten lead

Stamping, prancing, snorting steed,
driving herd with lightening speed

With swiftest action, bold and brave,
his harem horses to be saved

 

 Mighty blaze  with wary stare, 
rearing hooves, and white teeth bared

Met his foe with furious fire 
and rankled every suitor's ire

    * * *
Men tried to capture, rope, and tame,
the stallion's stalwart, stocky  frame

With lassos circling o'er the stud
stark fury racing through his blood

The stallion let no lariat
touch his long, sweat-glistened neck

Instead he whinnied great alarm
to keep his mares from any harm

* * *
And now, those days have come and gone,
but the legend of old Red lives on

Folks claim he prances on a cloud,
and say, when  thunder gets too loud,

 "Fear not that roar that's overhead!
It's  just the hoof beats of old Red."...

Tamara Hillman ©2007
 

 


 

 
                         About the author.....TAMARA HILLMAN
 

Tamara Hillman

I was born (Tamara Anne Dicus) in Twisp, Washington, a small ranching/logging community in the northern part of the state.My dad was a logger, and our family lived on a twelve acre farm where we raised everything we ate.

Chores and hard work were a part of our everyday lives in order to exist in the beautiful Methow (pronounced Met-how) Valley where I enjoyed a wonderful childhood in the country. Milking cows, slopping hogs, feeding chickens, mucking out, hoeing a huge garden, canning and picking fruit in the fall, were just a few of the chores me and my siblings were assigned. But it was not all work and no play. Each day consisted of adventures with my two brothers, (Clyde and Steven), neighborhood kids, and animal friends; In spring and summer months―running barefoot, riding horses, playing in haylofts, swimming in frigid river waters, sitting on the fence while watching cowboys brand cattle or break wilds horses, and sleeping under the stars on warm nights. And in fall and winter―daydreaming while kicking through red, yellow and orange leaves that floated to the ground from birch, quaking asp, oak, and maple trees, riding horses, catching snowflakes on your tongue, sucking ice sickles, sledding and tobogganing, building snow castles, ice skating, and just plain good ol’ outdoor-fun in the cold, snowy countryside.

When I married my husband of thirty-two years, I brought three children from a previous marriage, (he brought two) into the union. Because of a failing economy at that time in our little community, we were forced to move the family to the more urban areas on the west side of the mountains of Washington state in order to procure a decent living. Though I was far from home, my heart remained in the beloved Methow Valley.

After a thirty-year career as a beautician and owner of many salons, I retired and pursued my passion―“WRITING.” Naturally, I was most comfortable in writing poems and prose from warm memories of country and cowboy life. Thus, cowboy poetry and western novels came easily to me, and I started a new career writing mostly on these two subjects.

I often perform on western radio, and have been invited to do stage work as well at cowboy jamborees and gatherings all across this nation and Canada. I have two books published, “PURE COUNTRY” and “DUSTY TRAILS,” with more to come.
 

At the end of 2006, my husband, Steve, will be retiring and we plan to move, permanently, to our home in Arizona.  

                  Your comment are invited; and you can contact Tamara by email: westernpoetess@yahoo.com

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