RIO RICO CAFÉ
Clayton Anderson Bell
Dust creeps under the loose fit door,
Cowboy tracks across its floor,
Coffee hot and beans on boil,
Welcome all who sweat and toil.
Saddle horses tied by on rails,
Mop and bucket and spittoon pails,
Cups and saucers cracked by time,
Aprons soiled from white to grime.
Smoke hangs heavy, fans move slow,
Shuffling in and shuffling go,
Feet of the western land so dry,
Weather too hot, no tears to cry.
A Quarter horse, a dun, a black,
An old Ford pick-up out in back,
Standing proud upon Texas clay,
The sun scorched Rio Rico Café.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Dedicated to all related to Albert and Thea Anderson
My Room-Mate
Clayton Anderson Bell
My room-mate was 101 years old, she was my great-grandmother, the world was at war, and I was alone. I was only eight when we became room-mates and at that time my roommate was 94 years of age.
My roommate was a tall, slender, very regal looking person, strong of limb and quick of mind. We shared a rather large room on the third floor of a very old farm house. Roomy’ s bed was against the south wall and my bed was against the north wall and in between us we shared a table, two chairs, a coal oil lamp and a four drawer chest. Roomy had three drawers and I had one. Being younger my drawer was the bottom one as I was more able to bend down...and so we started our life together.
In the summer, when the room became very warm, I would open the window and often wave a small fan over Roomy. In the winter, when the room became very cold, Roomy would come over and cover me with an extra blanket. I loved Roomy dearly and Roomy seemed to love me in return. It did not seem to matter to either of us that Roomy only spoke Norwegian and I only spoke English. I do not ever recall a time when language presented a problem.
When I first teamed up with Roomy I was very young, very alone and very afraid of the dark. It was Roomy who would sing to me when the dreaded darkness came.
As the years passed, we both became a bit older, Roomy a bit slower and I a bit faster.
One night, for whatever reason, a doctor came into our room. Grandpa and Grandma came in as well and both were crying softly. It was becoming late and evening shadows gathered. The lamp on the table was lit and I could see the doctor draw the blanket up and cover Roomy’s face. He then came over to me and said that Roomy had died. All left the room.
Some how it seemed only right that I sang to her as the dreaded darkness came.
Clayton Anderson Bell
My room-mate was 101 years old, she was my great-grandmother, the world was at war, and I was alone. I was only eight when we became room-mates and at that time my roommate was 94 years of age.
My roommate was a tall, slender, very regal looking person, strong of limb and quick of mind. We shared a rather large room on the third floor of a very old farm house. Roomy’ s bed was against the south wall and my bed was against the north wall and in between us we shared a table, two chairs, a coal oil lamp and a four drawer chest. Roomy had three drawers and I had one. Being younger my drawer was the bottom one as I was more able to bend down...and so we started our life together.
In the summer, when the room became very warm, I would open the window and often wave a small fan over Roomy. In the winter, when the room became very cold, Roomy would come over and cover me with an extra blanket. I loved Roomy dearly and Roomy seemed to love me in return. It did not seem to matter to either of us that Roomy only spoke Norwegian and I only spoke English. I do not ever recall a time when language presented a problem.
When I first teamed up with Roomy I was very young, very alone and very afraid of the dark. It was Roomy who would sing to me when the dreaded darkness came.
As the years passed, we both became a bit older, Roomy a bit slower and I a bit faster.
One night, for whatever reason, a doctor came into our room. Grandpa and Grandma came in as well and both were crying softly. It was becoming late and evening shadows gathered. The lamp on the table was lit and I could see the doctor draw the blanket up and cover Roomy’s face. He then came over to me and said that Roomy had died. All left the room.
Some how it seemed only right that I sang to her as the dreaded darkness came.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Sometimes this will help.
Let the Wind Blow
Clayton Anderson Bell
When sorrow swarms about you,
Gripping you fast in its spell,
When tears flow like raindrops
And no one near you to tell.
When there is no end to nighttime,
Dawn seems never to show,
Go for a walk in the great outdoors,
Just let the friendly wind blow.
Blow away the sorrow and tears,
Bring back joy to your heart,
Smile a smile of happiness,
Be ready to start a new start.
Grasp the hand of your neighbor,
Wave to one and all as you go,
Hold firm to family and future,
And let the friendly wind blow.
To my cousin Ferne.
Clayton Anderson Bell
When sorrow swarms about you,
Gripping you fast in its spell,
When tears flow like raindrops
And no one near you to tell.
When there is no end to nighttime,
Dawn seems never to show,
Go for a walk in the great outdoors,
Just let the friendly wind blow.
Blow away the sorrow and tears,
Bring back joy to your heart,
Smile a smile of happiness,
Be ready to start a new start.
Grasp the hand of your neighbor,
Wave to one and all as you go,
Hold firm to family and future,
And let the friendly wind blow.
To my cousin Ferne.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A Special Thank you
... to Heather, who has the knowledge and patience to teach me the art of blogging. She is one very talented lady. Heather, I shall goof up from time to time as I fumble thru this maze, but with your help all will come out just right. Thanks again, my favorite blog teacher.
... to Glenda and Harry, without your talents in the writing field I would be totally lost at times.
... to my wife Nelda, who is so patient and knowing. Time after time she reads and re-reads my work, only stopping when she feels it is the best I can do. A most talented lady.
... to my blog readers who take time to comment, thank you.
... to all I have forgotten to thank, thank you.
... to Glenda and Harry, without your talents in the writing field I would be totally lost at times.
... to my wife Nelda, who is so patient and knowing. Time after time she reads and re-reads my work, only stopping when she feels it is the best I can do. A most talented lady.
... to my blog readers who take time to comment, thank you.
... to all I have forgotten to thank, thank you.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Chokecherry Tree
Clayton Anderson Bell
Alone now, this magnificent tree,
Holds memories of slender boughs
Where we, as children played;
Parched mouths, stained.
Prairie symbol, berry pickers,
Pails hung on belts, sun hats,
Cherries clustered in bunches,
Pancake syrup, wine, jellies.
Standing silent, nature’s tree,
Birds nest, birds rest, and birds feed.
Fruit, dust covered and washed by rain;
Forgotten, standing alone.
Still, this childhood tree of
Laughter and friendship,
A providing tree, biding place;
Forever will be our tree.
Alone now, this magnificent tree,
Holds memories of slender boughs
Where we, as children played;
Parched mouths, stained.
Prairie symbol, berry pickers,
Pails hung on belts, sun hats,
Cherries clustered in bunches,
Pancake syrup, wine, jellies.
Standing silent, nature’s tree,
Birds nest, birds rest, and birds feed.
Fruit, dust covered and washed by rain;
Forgotten, standing alone.
Still, this childhood tree of
Laughter and friendship,
A providing tree, biding place;
Forever will be our tree.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Beginning
As a first time blogger, along with being a basic computer unwashed, I hope to master all within my lifetime. I shall welcome all comments regarding my writings.
Books that I have published are far from best sellers but they were fun to write. Later I hope to be able to show a front page of Little Charley Chickadee (stories) and Chickadee Chirps (poems) for children. Both are available from the Flin Flon Public Library or from myself. E-mail me and I will be sure you get a book, each sells for $18.00 plus postage.
Poetry and story telling are of great interest to me and I hope to be able to share some of my work with you. I am however not schooled in the art of writing so both poetry and story telling often leave a lot to be desired. Take from them only what you enjoy.
Books that I have published are far from best sellers but they were fun to write. Later I hope to be able to show a front page of Little Charley Chickadee (stories) and Chickadee Chirps (poems) for children. Both are available from the Flin Flon Public Library or from myself. E-mail me and I will be sure you get a book, each sells for $18.00 plus postage.
Poetry and story telling are of great interest to me and I hope to be able to share some of my work with you. I am however not schooled in the art of writing so both poetry and story telling often leave a lot to be desired. Take from them only what you enjoy.
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