THIS ONE DOES IT
FOR ME!
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A Thought for Today
If the world is your horse, you better be
a damn good rider.
Hi Ken,
I just returned from a family reunion at a dude ranch resort in upstate
New York.
While there, I spent a lot of time riding on a horse. The horse would be
tied to the horse of a wrangler, who would guide us. My job was to keep my
balance and hold on to the horn. It's easy enough, unless the horse is
walking downhill. (My balance isn't good enough to ride a fast horse.)
Has Rod ever written a poem on the topic of horseback riding? If so, could
you feature it one Wednesday, so my experience may be all the better?
Thanks.
Rosalyn Butt and the very well travelled Razzle
(For those readers who don't
know Rosalyn, she's a totally blind member of the McKuen family and Razzle
is her beloved guide dog).
There aren't many topics Rod hasn't covered in his work, Rosalyn, so I
felt pretty confident I'd find mention of horseback riding somewhere.
Somewhere turned out to be "Celebrations of the Heart" and the poem "And
The Horse Goes Home". I don't recall this poem from my first reading of
this book but I certainly enjoyed it after receiving your query and I hope
you do too.
I'd be most interested to hear how Razzle related to the horses. I know
Tyra and Chloe, the four-footed loves of my life, wouldn't take kindly to
me paying too much attention to another animal!
Thanks for an interesting question, Rosalyn.
It's most gratifying to have so many contributions to this column and
thanks to all who've written in over the past few weeks. I have a number
of letters backed up so please bear with me - all of them will be featured
here in time.
if you have a question or something McKuen related you'd like to share,
the address, as always, is
ken@rodmckuen.com and I look forward to hearing from you soon.
- Ken, Johannesburg,
September 18
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(posted 09/09/2002).
ROD McKUEN APPEARANCES
ROD McKUEN
CONCERTS
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Eddie
“Rochester” Anderson o
Lance Armstrong o
Frankie Avalon o
Robert Blake o
Rossano Brazzi o
Harold Clurman o
June Foray o
James Gandolfini o
Greta Garbo o
Samuel Johnson o
John Albert Karle o
Keith Kidder o
Phyllis Kirk o
Jada Pinkett Smith o
Jimmie Rodgers o
Michael Scigliano o
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Fred Willard |
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When I'm on a horse, I'm on a horse.
The cowboy and the cowboy's horse have the
most dependable relationship. At suppertime, the horse comes home.
Once I thought dreams were exceptions, not
the rule. But that isn't so, they are so plentiful that they ride by on
air. You've only to reach out and snatch one from the mist, or from
nowhere.
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AND THE HORSE GOES HOME |
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Rabbits run
geese fly north / south
then homeward, north again.
Every animal or bird
however small
each thing
that moves beneath
God’s benevolent eye
does so only
in God’s own good time.
Riding in the field
this morning;
thinking not about
the needs of all men
but selfishly
of my own needs only
I wondered
as I now am wondering
what design
or brand new plan
God might have in mind
for me.
Nothing stirs now
no revolution
has come about
no direction
has changed for me
but I feel
and have been feeling
the need to move.
When the horse beneath me
begins to stomp and chomp
and gallop through the earth
I often wish that it was
my own muscled flesh
thundering through the field
and up the hillsides
sure of where I headed
or positive
that whatever hand
that guided me, knew.
After the ride,
after all the rides
we headed home slowly
the horse and me.
Not tired
but now more than ever,
resigned. - from "Celebrations of the Heart", 1975 |
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