Bill Halbert

Wills Point, Texas, USA

Wild Bill, wrote cowboy poetry for many years, Few were interested in it, he started writing other types of poetry, was accepted in many publications. Cowboy poetry became accepted, he now has songs, prose and books published. May 15, 1994, he and partner Mary Barnes started Sharing and Caring, a great writers',artists' magazine, now getting rave reviews here and abroad. His goal in life is to aid all writers to become the best they can be and to get published and stay published.

Seems Only Yesterday

No TV to keep us occupied indoors,
No PC's or electronic gadgets galore.
But from early morn till after dark,
We'd invent our own kind of lark.
A rope from a tree over a remote pond,
Of skinny dipping we were really fond.
An excursion hunting into the woods.
Fishing on the creek was realy good.
A worn out skate, a hammer and nails,
Scraps of wood, a sidewalk for rails,
Made transport for hours and hours galore.
A nickel gave half a day at the candy store.
We'd take a clothes pin and a rubber band,
From a worn out inner tube and with plan,
Make a gun that would harmlessly shoot,
Play "cowboys 'n' injuns," holler 'n' hoot.
Never a dull moment did we ever see.
We were always as busy as a honey bee.
We did lots of chores and in a big hurry,
So off to our own we could then scurry.
The depression made toys out of our range.
So with inventiveness our toys we'd arrange.
Seems only yesterday, because in my life,
Self taught inventiveness will always suffice.

When I Die

When I die I want them to bury me
Somewhere out on the lone Prairie.
Where the prairie grass grows high in June
And the whipperwills sing a mournful tune.
Where crickets chirp all through the night
And prairie hens scamper from your sight.
Where cattle feed on the jimson weed
And prairie winds blow the tumbleweed.
Where coyotes howl at a big full moon
Out where the sage and cactus bloom.
Let me rest aside the trail I traveled long,
On the peaceful prairie on which I roamed.
Bury me out where my spirit can roam free,
Not in some uptown lonesome old cemetery.
Don't mourn for me or grieve at my loss,
There, my spirit will still be its own boss.
Carve on my marker, "He is now at rest,
On the beloved prairie that he loved best."
Have a cowboy sing for me, my eulogy,
"Here lies a cowboy who is now home free."

Wat It Wuz - Wuz Jist TV

Diagnosis Murder's a right good TV show.
Ol'Doc Sloan's old but he ain't gittin' slow.
He gits on a case, he's like a blood hound pup,
He gits the scent 'n' he gits all fired up.
Tha thang I reckon I don't quite unnerstand,
Why don't they fire alla tha cops 'n' keep this man?
Tha writer what writ this here TV show,
'D be a right good 'tective hisself by now you know.
Tha cases fer Sloan, they ain't never too old,
Fer him tha trail o' clues, they never git cold.
He jist sniffs 'n' scratches till someone 'fesses.
Ol' Sloan knowed whilst other'ns jist had guesses.
Ol' sloan, he's mighty smart 'n' aweful danged slick,
'Twixt murder cases he finds time ta heal tha sick.
He's doctor, lawyer, 'tective, friend 'n' injun chief,
They ain't narry a chance fer murderer or thief.
Too bad it's jist 'n' ol' TV mystery show,
We shore do need one like him 'round though.
Reckon iffen we did, in 'bout six munts time,
He'd rid tha country o'alla its real bad crime.