Hisland

Dennis has performed in a variety of Glasgow venues,
including Aye Write & other Glasgow festivals. Two of his
"poems with pictures" have been exhibited in St. Mungo's
Museum. His latest published collection is "Ride an Old
Pony". Dennis and friends are available for themed
performances, including "The Aging Adventure" and "The
Underground Railroad".

How far can an old pony run?

How far can an old pony run?
How far can an old pony run?
And how much is that saddle,
and a straight shooting gun?
How far can an old pony run?

I wanted to be a cowboy
When I was a young man
I wanted to be a cowboy -
The best in the land!
But she settled me down
with a touch of her hand
Now I'm asking you mister,
Hoping you'll understand
How far can an old pony run?

Now a young man don't know
Where it's all going to end
He just follows the girls,
And follows his friends
And it's fun for a while,
But he's broke' in the end:
There's a tear in his heart
That no one can mend
How far can an old pony run?

She says we've no complaints,
Because we are at ease
Got our house and our car
And our colour TV
But I'm missing the plains
And I'm missing the breeze
What's riches to her
Just aint riches to me
How far can an old pony run?

I never could tell
Where it was I was going
I did not want to know
As the years pass along
But dreams don't disappear,
They stay like a song
And a life that won't listen
Is a life that's gone wrong
How far can an old pony run?

All I want's empty sky
And some fresh prairie air
With the sun on my face
And the wind in my hair
I'll just follow the road
Or I'll follow a stream
Till I find and become
What I always have dreamed
How far can an old pony run?

Dennis Oliver
2010

Cowboy

We called him Cowboy since he ran away
so fast, so often.
He would disappear sometimes in the
heat of argument,
sometimes in pursuit of dreams,
or just to hang around with friends,
planning an adventure,
doing nothing in particular,
occasionally for work, for pay.
We'd only see the back of him.

He was well acquainted
with the voices in the wind
that said 'Abandon'… 'Time to run...'
But he loved rainbows, too -
knew the different feelings they
contained,
and laughed, admitting, "Never found a
pot of gold, or a princess, for that matter,
at the other end."

And then it happened.
Quiet as a cowboy, he never talked about
it.
Perhaps "it" was a woman,
but I suspect something much more
comprehensive,
that he gained perspective,
saw that nothing suited him
and simply stopped.
Stopped everything.

If you noticed all the subtleties of his
speech and stance,
you'd suspect dissolution.
Whatever happened, he lost his rage
to roam,
even in his head.
He doesn't brag or smile or exercise -
Just sits, the TV on, not watching;
just sticks around,
sometimes with his friends.
But they're no longer cowboys, either.

Perhaps he's living in his mind,
where we are not allowed to join him.
No arguments, No promises,
No more broken bones.

I figure -and I'd wager he does to -
that he's as good as dead,
'though none of us would dare to say.
Still call him Cowboy, though.
And when I do I hope he knows
that something better might be there,
around the corner.
Trouble is, I don't believe it either.

Dennis Oliver
2010