The Shining MountainsPortrait of Joanne
24x18 Oil
by Lynn Thomas
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The Gift (from Charlie)
By Lynn Thomas
Boulder WY
February ll, l999
By Lynn Thomas
Boulder WY
February ll, l999
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I wish I’d known ya, Charlie
Somehow it seems like I do
I wish I could stand by your easel
And watch you drawing so true
The Injuns and horses which flowed from your brush
Those scenes of the past in my heart
The West that you knew would vanish
You captured for us in your art
The stories you wove with your colors
Keep alive what’s left of the West
Thanks for sharing the past with the future
You were there and you rode with the best
Wild adventures you showed us in paint
Of tangles with grizzlies and wolves
Those broncs and the wrecks that they caused
We still hear the sound of their hooves
Free roaming wildlife and hunters
The pictures of jerk lines and mules
The cowboys and cattle and rustlers
Who settled disputes with no rules
Scenes of chuckwagons and campfires
Make me feel like I’ve been there awhile
To watch your hands carve a sculpture
As you tell a tall tale with a smile
We see your sunsets and moonrises
Like echoes of rainbows viewed from afar
The breezes still carry your camp smoke
When we sleep out under the stars
Your pen tells us tall tales to treasure
Of buffalo hunts on the plains
Coyotes and northers and sundogs
Glaciers and soft summer rains
I look over your shoulder, dear Charlie
At the genius that time has revealed
We’re thankful you showed us those stories
Time otherwise would have concealed
There’s a bunch of us gratefully travel
Those rocky trails which you blazed
To round up the images you left behind
In places your good ponies grazed
As you ride Monte through Cowboy Heaven
In a place which you helped create
We hope you know we’re beholden
That you went ahead to open the gate
Charlie, we follow your spirit
As artists we are the ones
Who travel your path and are proud
To be called your daughters and sons
Somehow it seems like I do
I wish I could stand by your easel
And watch you drawing so true
The Injuns and horses which flowed from your brush
Those scenes of the past in my heart
The West that you knew would vanish
You captured for us in your art
The stories you wove with your colors
Keep alive what’s left of the West
Thanks for sharing the past with the future
You were there and you rode with the best
Wild adventures you showed us in paint
Of tangles with grizzlies and wolves
Those broncs and the wrecks that they caused
We still hear the sound of their hooves
Free roaming wildlife and hunters
The pictures of jerk lines and mules
The cowboys and cattle and rustlers
Who settled disputes with no rules
Scenes of chuckwagons and campfires
Make me feel like I’ve been there awhile
To watch your hands carve a sculpture
As you tell a tall tale with a smile
We see your sunsets and moonrises
Like echoes of rainbows viewed from afar
The breezes still carry your camp smoke
When we sleep out under the stars
Your pen tells us tall tales to treasure
Of buffalo hunts on the plains
Coyotes and northers and sundogs
Glaciers and soft summer rains
I look over your shoulder, dear Charlie
At the genius that time has revealed
We’re thankful you showed us those stories
Time otherwise would have concealed
There’s a bunch of us gratefully travel
Those rocky trails which you blazed
To round up the images you left behind
In places your good ponies grazed
As you ride Monte through Cowboy Heaven
In a place which you helped create
We hope you know we’re beholden
That you went ahead to open the gate
Charlie, we follow your spirit
As artists we are the ones
Who travel your path and are proud
To be called your daughters and sons
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.
(This is a poem about Charles M. Russell, cowboy artist, who has been an inspiration to me. You may have seen it before, But I haven't put it on the blog yet, so am using it today.)
