October 2014 Issue- Week 3

October 19, 2014

 

Enjoy this months issues 1 & 2 before this!

Narcissus_Christopher Woods

‘Narcissus’ by Christopher Woods

Chris said that horses are often afraid of their own reflection.

Christopher Woods is a writer, teacher and photographer who lives in Texas. He has published a novel, THE DREAM PATCH, a prose collection, UNDER A RIVERBED SKY, and a book of stage monologues for actors, HEART SPEAK. His photographs can
be seen in his gallery – http://christopherwoods.zenfolio.com/

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The Reclaimed Dogs

Our family deals in discarded dogs,
all wagging tails and toothy grins
and wide watching eyes.
When the coyotes howl at the moon
our little pack offers them a response -
a warbling stalemate, a cold war on a cold night.
The beginning of summer is heralded
by handfuls of dog wool
pulled out by metals combs and loving hands,
and summer is over
when big beds of hay beckon to creatures
bred for the arctic.
In the fall not a berry or crabapple escapes them.
Not even falling pecans are safe.
They know what fire is, and how
hot dogs and marshmallows are sometimes nearby.
In the spring, when life is blooming,
see four dogs on a perpetual Easter egg hunt.
Horses watch with weary glances, only half interested.
I know the seasons by fur
and hunts
and berries
and hay,
by the twitch of a nose and the wag of a tail,
because my family deals in discarded dogs.

Virginia “Jena” McLaurin- Originally from Georgia, Virginia “Jena” McLaurin is of Eastern Cherokee and European descent. She is currently pursuing a doctorate degree in the Anthropology Department at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, with a primary interest in stereotypes of Native American peoples. Virginia finds inspiration for her poetry in issues she has faced since childhood – difficult subjects such as identity and misconceptions of Native people – but also from nature, her family, and her work with Native communities and especially Native youth. She aspires to write poems that reflect both the difficulties of being Native as well as the beauty and depth of Native cultures, and she hopes that her poetry inspires readers to reflect on their own family heritage and cultures.

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GLEANING

by Dawn Schout

She searches the ravaged,
muddy field, the broken
stalks, red cobs stripped
of kernels. The black
cat follows. She has to go
out further than normal. Corn
is harder to find this year.
The husks she expects
to find full are empty.
Time is against her, the sun
a rotting pumpkin, sinking
behind leafless trees.
She is ready to give
up searching when
something rolls under her black
boot. She rips
off the dried, freckled
husk, the silk,
wet from muddy water.
Gold greets her.

Dawn Schout’s poetry has appeared in more than 50 publications, including *Cowboy Poetry Press*, *Dagda Publishing*, *Poetry Quarterly*, *Red River Review*, and *Tipton Poetry Journal*. She was nominated for Best of the Net in 2013. Her debut poetry collection, *Wanderlust*, is scheduled to be published in January 2015 by WordTech Editions.

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CRACKED

He finally died of heat prostration;
old desert rat lived in a shack 52 years
before a simple sprain led to a short fall
onto a midsized rock that broke
a thin hip riddled with Osteoporosis
and he goes from rat to snake in a desperate crawl
in search of away from the sun
with tiny cacti for water but nothing for shade
except his old imagination that finally wandered
back to childhood in the Twin Cities moving
Minneapolis to St. Paul to Minneapolis
and so on winter by dark, white winter
until even barely breathing baked dust and sand
he still remembers the frostbite of childhood
and graces the canyon with one final, cracked smile.

Hubert Hix was born and raised in Oklahoma. His Grandfather Hix moved there as a teenager around the time of the land rush. He now lives in Minnesota. Recent publications include poems in Lilliput Review, Under the Basho, and Right Hand Pointing.

October 2014 Issue- Week 2

October 14, 2014

“Better late than never!” our managing editor Ms. Stelling says. It’s been busy around the pub office since we began 1 year to the date publishing authors poetry and flash fiction books. And we look forward to more manuscript submission for next fall! We would love to see some western genre manuscripts come out way, since there are so many of you submitting to this ezine.

See our submission guidelines at www.reddashboard.com for more information, dates are Oct 1st – Feb 28th.

Enjoy this months issues!

mphoto043 (1)

Photo by Malinda Fillingim of David Fillingim singing at a chuck wagon event at the Booth Western Museum, Cartersville, GA.

COWBOY SHOWERS

She never liked the smell of cattle
Keeping me clean was always her battle
I sprayed myself twice a day
Just to keep the fighting at bay.

It never dawned on me
That my arm pits stank
But daily she reminded me
With many big yanks.

Get in the shower
She’d loudly declare
While I wash out
Your dirty underwear.

I wonder if her
Love is enough
To keep me clean
Not smelling of snuff

Maybe it is,
Maybe it’s not,
But this shower
Is way too hot.

She can’t cook
Her love’s gone sour,
So why am I here
Scrubbing in a shower?

I’ll grab my clothes
And all that’s pretty
And find a woman
Who’ll love me dirty!

Malinda and David Fillingim have been married for over 30 years and live in Leland, NC. They both teach at Cape Fear Community College, Wilmington, NC. David is an award winning writer of many books and articles, including Georgia Cowboy Poets and Malinda takes really good photos with a camera she bought at a thrift store for one dollar. Contact either one at fillingam@ec.rr.com.

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INDIAN CAMP OF THE HUDSON VALLEY – A True Story

There was no reservation,
only houses and shanties
in the wetlands along the Esopus Creek.
Not good land, it flooded
in the Springs when the run-off
to the river was high.
Dutch burghers and Tory descendants
disdained it, but
it was place to these displaced Algonquians,
Lenape from New Jersey, Manhattan and Delaware.
They took the twenty-fours dollars worth of trinkets
for land they did not own,
and they knew farming,
how to make fabric from plants and skins.
They had kitchen gardens
tended by women and children.
In time before driven out of the valley,
men worked the slate mines,
skidding great gray slabs on timbers
to Hudson’s stolen river.
Straining horses and men delivered
the sidewalks of New York
to barges dipping and bowing
in the residual tides of estuary.
Commerce walked like a ghost
on the water
of the Creek and of the River,
slipping away toward Manhattan
and the sea.

Howard Winn has published over 400 poems and short stories in various competitive selection literary magazines. He’s published one book of poetry, and has been nominated for a Push Cart Press Award three times. Winn has appeared in two poetry anthologies, one published in the Ashland Poetry Series and one of Hudson Valley poets edited by Mary Gordon. He’s been included in one anthology celebrating the 300th year anniversary of the discovery of the Hudson River.

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Blessings Be Upon You, Horace Greely

“Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country.”
So, I followed the Conestogas
and found forever, an Eden,
endless vistas that promised
vast possibilities of success.
With no gaurantee in my pocket,
save that of manhood’s training,
I trusted myself,
and called myself frontiersman
when in truth I was a gambler separated
from those who sought safety in civilization.
And I, a being formed by space itself,
untamed, unrestrained
except by natural age and failing,
chart my course by stars named
Sea. Sage. Sequoia.
Mesa, rio, arroyo—
commissioned by God to dare.
Experiment.
Build.
Fashion.
A demigod in boots and chaps
wielding a branding iron instead of lightning bolts,
I did not know the Great Divide
was more than just geography,
that those contented
with being Europe’s mirror
would become my enemy
because they fear the freedom
of the ultimate question:
Now that God has made him,
what can a man make of himself?

Jenean McBrearty is a graduate of San Diego State University, a former community college instructor who taught Political Science and Sociology, and is finishing a certificate in Veteran Studies. Her fiction has been published in a slew of print and on-line journals including Cigale Literary Magazine, 100 Doors to Madness Anthology, Mad Swirl and The Moon; her poetry has been accepted by Van Gogh’s Ear and Page & Spine; and her photographs have appeared in Foliate Oak Literary Journal and Off the Coast Magazine among others. Her novel, The 9th Circle was published by Barbarian Books, serials Raphael Redcloak and Retrolands can be found on Jukepop.com. Web-page: Jenean-McBrearty.com.

October is also dedicated to Robert Penven, one of our beloved poets passed last night after a surgery that wasn’t suppose to cause problems. He was 81, and was one of our biggest supporters, lived here in New Jersey, about an hour away from the managing editor who met him at a local Vineland poetry group, Poetry-go-round once a month. RIP dear cowboy, you are missed…

October 2014 Issue- Week 1

October 4, 2014

“Better late than never!” our managing editor Ms. Stelling says. It’s been busy around the pub office since we began 1 year to the date publishing authors poetry and flash fiction books. And we look forward to more manuscript submission for next fall! We would love to see some western genre manuscripts come out way, since there are so many of you submitting to this ezine.

See our submission guidelines at www.reddashboard.com for more information, dates are Oct 1st – Feb 28th.

Enjoy this months issues!

 

EPSON MFP image

(Click to enlarge)
Watercolor ‘Steeds’ by Anj Marth

Ocean steeds was inspired by a story my great-grandmother told me when I first started riding horseback. Selkies are beautiful horses that live in the sea, and come to shore to tempt people to try to catch them. If you bridle one, or get on its back (it will let you) it will drag you into the deeps with it, and there’s no escape.

Anj Marth was born in the early 70s, and grew up on the east coast of the US, near Philadelphia. She has since moved and traveled all over the country, by road. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest and
considers it home. She works in a variety of mediums and has been a professional,licensed tattoo artist since the late 90s.

Her condensed portfolio can be seen here- Anj Marth Portfolio

 

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KODACHROME BOOTS

This here’s a tale bout widow Beall and me,
a very close call as far as I can see.
Nearly hung myself from a stout oak tree,
when she proclaimed she’s “a gonna marry thee”!

Now, widow Beall was a comely lass,
much appeal and a cute little…….well.
Dumb as a sheep and not much class,
spit fire temper and a whole lot of sass.

Not fix’n to marry, ner give’n a dang hoot,
rather ride me a bronc, raise hell and shoot.
Single I’ll stay, til I be a grizzled old coot,
and all this started o’er a Kodachrome boot.

A life riding single with a little spare loot,
I’d spent honest big money on Kodachrome boots.
With huge eagle wings, patterns fanciful stitched,
never reckoned on them boots a get’n me hitched.

Them knee high boots just glowed by day,
bright yellar and red with horned lizard inlay.
Strong ride’n heels built up real high,
with side seam piping, blue as the sky.

Chartreuse pull straps above scalloped top,
a rainbow of colors that seemed never to stop.
Big ole eagles, blueish green and dark taupe,
tawdry beauty from some boot makers shop.

Kodachrome boots made from the best of cowhide,
brash as a peacock cowboy on an afternoon ride.
Clean shirt, fresh hat, pants stuffed inside,
One of a kind boots, whispered ego and pride.

When corralled by the widow, I couldn’t break free,
She’d always look down and then I could see,
her eyes come alive, twinkling romance and glee,
It was them boots she truly loved and not really me!

I hatched an idea to get me outta her plan,
and git back on the trail as fast as I can.
Just need to convince my first cousin Stan,
widow Beall needs some lov’n and he is her man.

Got Stan a new Stetson, wild rag and new suit,
a bath, and some tonic, why he looked darn right cute.
And to sweet’n the deal, first time in the chute,
I gave him my pair of those kodachrome boots.

Marc Bradshaw- Though raised in the hills and hollows of central Kentucky, the southwest U.S. beckoned immediately after high school graduation. Over the next 50 years California’s San Joaquin valley and parts south of Bakersfield, in Santa Fe New Mexico, and currently Mesquite Nevada were home to life and
work.

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COME HAVEN OR LOW WATER

by Rodney Nelson

when we hear the recorded whoop of
a cowboy cello we’re not truant
only away from our home butte
on the Niobrara

we are the men of earth we have been
and when we reinvent the odor
of horse and hay we ride and forget
what larrupt us to town

there won’t ever be a flareout of
the world or a man-roping event
in the oil range we hold the dream to
on the Niobrara

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COWBOY OF THE SEA

His name is Keealani,
a cowboy of the sea.
Needs the wind upon his back,
that bucking ride to set him free.

He wrestles surf and ocean
gripping tight and holding strong,
waiting for horns blowing
counting seconds short and long.

Got his lasso round his ankle
his bolo tie, a string of shells,
biggest difference in this cowboy
is his fishy stinky smell.

No manure or dirt upon him,
just the residue of sand,
cause this cowboy’s ride is over
when he steps upon the land.

Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist and recently emerged poet, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly, The Poetry Bus, Red Fez, The Muse, An International Journal of Poetry, Deep Water Literary Journal, Electric Windmill, Maelstrom, mad swirl, and Dual Coast.  Her first chapbook, We Look for Magic and Feed the Hungry has been published by MCI. She just won the Nantucket Poetry Competition, a semi-finalist in Casey Shay chapbook competition, and has her first collection coming out this winter with Red Dashboard Publishing.  Recently widowed from her love of 21 years, she lives with her 2 amazing teens, and can be found frolicking in the waves.  Follow her: www.thehealedheart.net

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October is almost here, which means summer slipped by us again, at least me. We are getting ready for new book releases from some great author, especially our Cowboy Poetry/Western section over at http://www.reddashboard.com (catalog page). I am proud to be posting some great poetry, fiction, and non-fiction from many of you out there, so keep ‘em comin’ in!

It was brought to my attention that a poet, won’t mention any names, said that cowboy poetry (and they are in fact a cowboy(girl) poet in their own right), in order to be good, possibly acceptable only in certain circles, that words have to rhyme exactly– rhyme/time, but not rhyme/sign. What does that mean? Wouldn’t we run out of words? Wouldn’t all cowboy poetry end up the same? How do you write perfect cowboy poetry?

Well I’ve read, and keep on reading as much as I can about this (I get asked often). Example is usually the best information. But the big problem with that is, it changes. Poetry has moved from proper meter and rhyme, to what they call free verse, to what can be jarring at times. We accept most forms here.

This site began as a way of allowing those like myself who write western themed pieces to be accepted, where no other journal existed. I’ll confess something here, because that is who I am, it used to irritate me to read poems where every line rhymed. There are poets out there who think that is what poetry is, every other line, or abab, aabb, and aabb ccdd stanzas end with a word that perfectly rhymes. I moved on. I realized it’s the story that matters, with some of that, and a little of other things.

Now I embrace so much more, and its made me a happier editor, a grateful reader, and other things. I love to read. I love to write. It has its healing benefits, but I won’t get into that. Back to Cowboy Poetry…

This genre started way before the West began to disappear, before it had literally been settled as we know it now, or my generation, in the nineteen-fifties through seventies– via television and other sources. Historical records show us it (cowboy poetry) was created as a song to sooth bovine and other livestock, mostly on the trail, when cattle had to be moved into the market place, dab smack in the middle of a town (hence cow-town). These long and harsh, usually unbearable weather, starry nights the cowpoke, ranch hands, and steer needed to ease their woas (fear of wolf and Native American attacks, possibly cattle rustlers).

So they sang (poems and songs are pretty close). If you know about song-writing, you know its a craft of measuring beats, and lyrics of sorts (Sonnets and other artforms of poetry started it all). To amuse themselves, cowpokes began to insert stories with a punch-line. They began to entertain each other around the campfire, on night patrol over the herds, and I assume as a competition of memory over time.

I’ve been taught songs are easy and catchy ways of remembering (by musician friends, I run open-mics), as a way of helping me recite them by memory, my poetry. Now most who lived that life, on the trail, unless you were the owner, even then they were struggling, it wasn’t an easy life–not many were educated. Education back then was a luxury, something that began to be forced upon the off-spring, as a way of calming the Wild West down. Not many knew how to spell. So….what I’m trying to say is, that words were chosen for memory and sounds. Things that rhyme just happened.

Not many wrote these things down, so it’s rare that you find a rule book of sorts from that era, on cowboy poetry and song-writing. But tradition keeps on, like it does in the western world. If you go to the well-remembered cowboy poets of the fifties (and earlier), read their work, study Baxter Black, buy a few cowboy poetry books, read the work. I do. And most improvise the rhyming. If you want to go on the radio and say, “this is how it is, or it ain’t what you think”, you can, but don’t scare our poets. I don’t want them thinking they have to re-write a whole slew of poetry to fit someones idea of perfect cowboy poetry.

I’m trying to keep this post under a million words, as I’ve learned in the writing business, yeah I’ve gotten a few checks for my work (does that make me an expert? Nope) we all have our idols, those who we study and learn from, but even they’d tell you, “I’m no expert, even with awards and such, just follow your heart, and study the craft.” And if you want to win an award, remember this (I’ve done competition as a chef, and won) it all boils down to, who’s at the judging table, it’s a matter of opinion. A matter of taste, and what they think is the right thing. That sort of bugs me, like being chosen for a poetry and fiction edition, anthology, or magazine issue, it all boils down to what someone likes at that moment. Truth. But, if not just one person (judge) is doing the choosing, then you have a better chance. Also, being a good entertainer helps as well. Anyone can be a winner, and we are all still learning. As my big cowboy used to say, Daddy, ever’bodies a winner, there are no losers.

This has got me thinking, maybe it’s about time someone wrote a book about the art of cowboy poetry, or maybe not. Where’s Baxter Black when you need ‘em? And then again, if someone did, then there will be someone out there who has a different opinion, it happens.

Keep reading. Keep writing, and keep sending us your wonderful work!

EAS

aka managing editor, Red Dashboard LLC Publishing (and all its ezines- Z-composition, Cowboy Poetry Press, and Annapurna Magazine),

a Texas poet,

and I’m adding ‘Rural Philosopher’ to my title (Baxter Black did it!)

October Issue Deadlines? November 28th, no exceptions, we will read that week, thanks!

editor@reddashboard.com

Read our submission guidelines, no poetry in the body of emails, please~

Lizabeth& Smokey 2

 

 

I landed, picked up my little sister in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas and then we headed to a small Southeastern town of Hico, Texas, well, really the hotel was in Stephenville, same relative area. Small town, that’s the key. It was The National Day of the Cowboy festival on Saturday, July 26th, and I had some meet-and-greetin’ to do!

Smokey Culver, one of CPP’s cowboy poets would be featured, along with some other great poets and musician singers of the western genre. So what it would be 103 outside and the flies as thick as molasses, lil’ Sis and I were looking for a good time!

Smokey and I did some radio time on Friday, along with Elaine Shields, the local poetry go-getter-gal, and what a great host she was! Our cowboy brought an entourage of family members, built in fan club. Everyone was so hospitable, and of course we were in Texas.

Once back on the road lil’ Sis and I head to some of our old childhood haunts to say hello to long gone family members West of Fort Worth, were our father grew up. Back in Dallas a day later I hosted a reading for Red Dashboard poets and writers. The turnout was great and it was once again awesome to meet so many of you friendly creative types who submit to the three ezines.

Things are getting back to normal for me as managing editor and all, matter of fact some great news, I will be hosting a Poetry/Writers Prompt Workshop for inner city residents in Trenton, and the first thing I plan on doing is introduce Cowboy Poetry to the group. I’m learning to appreciate it more, have been studying the form and its origins. It may not be their cup of joe, but I aim to get into it more. I should, we have had quite a few submissions of Cowboy Poetry manuscripts for publication. RedD did just pub Smokey Culvers book, A Wrap and a Hooey, available on Amazon. He and I are pretty fond and proud of the cover, so go check it out!

Keep those submissions coming in folks, we have a fall issue due out in October! Check out submission guidelines, please…

What’s New In June

July 2, 2014

Well, we got our first anthology out of the gate, Unbridled. It seems to have been a success, as we get orders on a weekly basis. And we want to thank all the contributors for their wonderful submissions!

Clark Crouch
C.B. Anderson
Tony Magistrale
Julia Klatt Singer
Debra Meyer
Al Ortolani
Alison L. Thalhammer
Nina Romano
Telly McGaha
Tyson West
Rodney Nelson
Larry Spotted Crow Mann
Ray Sharp
Nicole Yurcaba
Tom Sheehan
Lily Goderstad
Kevin Heaton
Greg T. Miraglia
Chrystal Berche
Linda M. Hasselstrom
Dawn Schout
Luke MacLean
Vera Constantineau
Chris Ridenour
John J. Brugaletta
Leroy Trussell
Andrew Jarvis
Bandon Black
Robert Krenz
Christopher Ackerman
Andy Kerr-Wilson
Geoff (Poppa Mac) Mackay
John Strickland
Courtney Leigh Jameson
Della West
Smokey Culver
Merle Grabhorn
Elaine Shea
Jack Phillip Lowe
Laura Jean Schneider
Stanley M. Noah
Henry Marchand
Robert Penven
Julia R. Barrett
Paul Piatkowski
Gary Ives
Nathaniel Towers
M.V. Montgomery
JD DeHart
Dawn Schout

Without you, we would just be an empty field of dreams…

What’s next?

There will be a 2015 issue, submissions are open Oct 2014-Feb. 28th, 2015.

And…

We are accepting submission for our fall issue of CPP, deadline is October 1st!
email: editor@reddashboard.com

Early Spa (1)

It’s miles to Miles City across this grassy flat,
And cattle by the dozens can gorge themselves to fat

A drilling firm in fifty-six came here for a go
They struck no oil, just pressurized but thermal H 2 O

The flow was such ‘twas feared, that if left to spout alone
The water well would soon enough drain old Yellowstone

They capped their geyser, and then astute’ new owners saw
A straight and forward way to build a basic spa

One night some high school students broke in and got a start
They landed in the hospital with burns on private parts

From real fear of lawsuits, then, dismantled was their dream;
Excepting this one lonely tub, there’s little left but steam. 

Larry Stanfel has a Ph.D. in Industrial Engineering/Management Science from Northwestern University, held the rank, Professor, at several universities, and worked frequently as a consultant for the federal government and to private business. He has published two books – another is in review – seventy articles, mostly peer-reviewed, in periodicals, about a dozen poems, and several web pieces. Twice a winner of competitive fellowships for post-doctoral research abroad, he has presented papers around the world and been an invited speaker in a number of countries. Listed in Who’s Who in America, Dr. Stanfel presently lives with his artist wife, Jane, on a small ranch in Montana.

Painting above, ‘The Spa’ by Jane Stanfel

An artist most of her life, Jane, painting in a realistic-impressionist style, works primarily in oils and watercolors. Her paintings are found throughout the United States and Europe, including the Royal Norwegian Embassy and the Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle. She has had exhibitions across Montana which document the lives and ranches of original settlers. She also had a month-long solo show at Jadite Galleries, New York City; been part of a show in Brussels, Belgium; had a solo exhibit in Seattle, Washington, two at the .Royal Norwegian Embassy in Washington, D.C. and two in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Her painting, Old Time Branding, was chosen as the logo for the Montana Cowboy Poetry Gathering, August, 2008, and she completed a series of oil and watercolor paintings of endangered species for Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, Gulf Shores, Alabama. Her painting entitled It Never Had Brakes, is featured in the book, Montana: Stories of the Land, by Krys Holmes, Montana Historical Society Press, Helena, Montana, 2008. She has conducted children’s art classes throughout Montana and is listed in Who’s Who of American Women, Who’s Who in the World, Who’s Who in America, and the Archives on Women Artists, at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington, D. C. She and her art have been featured in magazines and newspapers across Montana, and her art has been reviewed in the New York art journal, Gallery and Studio. June/July/August 2008.

Her oil paintings have been sold in galleries throughout the United States including Kertesz International Fine Art Gallery, San Francisco, California; Wilson Adams Art Gallery, Denver, Colorado; Cody Country Art League, Cody, Wyoming; Dancing Bear Gallery, Evanston, Illinois; and JaneStanfel.com.

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