A Ponderosa poem by Freya-Kendra It was a dream, a silly thing, the kind that makes you shake your head and think about the things you ate or drank before you went to bed. I found myself conversing with a character from long ago, another time, another place – a Technicolor TV show. His name was Ben, a gentle man with sons who made him beam with pride. Alas, he also felt alone; A widower, he’d lost his bride. In fact not one, but three he’d loved. Three women, three disparate lives, had turned his head and found his heart; three headstrong, independent wives, had graced his life, helped build his dreams and given him his three, fine boys, each son unique, a special breed. They filled his broken heart with joy. Adam, so like Lancelot, Ben’s first-born was a gallant man. Honor and nobility were always under his command. Eric next, the one called Hoss, would wrestle bears to save his kin. He cherished every scrap of life, and never had a thought for sin. And then along came Little Joe, a vibrant lad, so quick of heart, his temperament was fierce and strong, and love, for him, a special art. Yes, Ben was blessed, despite his loss; his room, his bed, were his alone, and yet his heart and hearth were full with loving sons, with sense of home. I gave this gentle Ben a smile, and he gave me some wise advice. He told me cherish what I have, ‘though blessings sometimes have a price, they also help to fill the voids that hardships often leave behind; we must not let the voids fill us— be brave, be bold, be true, be kind. I woke refreshed and strong of heart, the Ponderosa in my grasp, for Ben had shown me how to see the light beyond a darkened path. |
| Bonanza Poems |
A Ponderosa poem by Freya-Kendra At three AM I came awake; My eye had spilled a tear. A captured image from a dream Had surely placed it there. A tired, old man had made it home To find himself alone. He stood upon a quiet hill And studied three headstones: His brother, Hoss; his father, Ben; And even Little Joe. Too young, too soon, too far away-- Yet he’d had to let them go. He bore a weight of might-have-been's, And what-had-been, and more, Because he’d felt a need to stray, To wander, to explore. He’d left behind one family, And then he’d found another -- A wife, a son, a distant dream Had replaced his pa and brothers. “No,” he cried into the wind; They’d never been replaced. They still resided in his heart, As did this special place. The Ponderosa was his home No matter where he’d slept. He saw that truth. He closed his eyes. He dropped his head -- and wept….
Crooked his arm in hers And led him gently down the hill -- There was no need for words. They sat together for a while Beside a warming fire. She studied him, and caught his eye, Asked, could she please inquire What it felt like to be there In that place he’d once called home? He gazed at her with gleaming eyes And said it felt “alone.” She shook her head; she smiled wide, And told him, “not for long!” At sundown, when the work was done, He’d sing a different song. They spent an hour catching up. They spoke of Hoss and Joe, And other names -- the younger ones He had never come to know. Then the sky began to darken; and the room began to fill With familiar smiles and familiar eyes -- His brothers were there still In the children and the grandchildren They’d brought into this world. He found himself surrounded By Cartwright boys and girls. When Adam finally caught his breath, The youngest Cartwright there, A girl with Joe’s uncanny gaze And his curly, auburn hair, Placed her tiny hand in his And bade him “Come and see.” She had to introduce him To her older brothers, three. The tallest one was Joseph. Eric followed next. The youngest one, with golden hair, Studied him, perplexed, And said, “We’re not a bit alike.” Why should we be the same? “Because,” the boy said, “obviously, “We share the Adam name.” When the dream first came upon me I, with Adam stood, Upon the hill, beside the graves -- I shared his somber mood. But as the vision conjured more I felt his sorrow ease. The story’s sure to carry on For those Cartwright brothers, three. |
The Cartwright Brothers, 3
Poem
Poem
