Neil Meili

Zen Cowboy Poet & Freelance Philosopher

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Neil Meili

Monthly Archives: August 2022

Graveside Comfort

Audio Recordings / tagged Death, Faith / August 22, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
murmur those words if you must
But it might be more comforting to say
that the potter of Adam still works in clay
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Requiem

Audio Recordings, Personal Growth, Poems about Poetry / August 20, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
"There is nothing sad about an empty shell"
Antoine de Saint-Exupery The Little Prince
My poetry 
is the shell
I leave you now
It's spiralled substance 
all I've known of life and love
See how it winds, and ever opens
stained with all the colours of my growth 
and every gift and every touch of all of you and more
Hold it to your ear - you may hear the ocean
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Dark Eyed Lady

Audio Recordings, Poems about Poetry, Relationships / August 19, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
An instant connection
with riches and light
that's deep than centuries 
and warmer than life

Though if death's darkness 
is as welcoming as this
no wonder people hurry 
to sink into that bliss

And though I'm pretty sure
I'm not ready to be dead
I'd like to sit by those waters
and rest my weary head

And drop pebbles of my poetry
just to watch the ripples spread
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Ode to a Dying Rose

Audio Recordings, Poems about Poetry, Relationships / tagged Death, Life / August 18, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
If poems could not
be written about love and death
the shelves would be lighter for it

How much lighter you ask

How about empty
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The Midas Touch

Audio Recordings, Poems about Poetry / tagged Gifts / August 16, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
King Midas wrote poems
in the finest of gold

and gave them to friends
or so I am told

Barred as he was 
from touching in any 
ordinary way
1 Reply

The Indolent

Audio Recordings / tagged Aging, Retirement / August 15, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
Having passed the age where
most have retired by choice or force 
and with no particular trade to retire from 
I watch sports on TV
all of which I played in my youth 
with varying degrees of limited skill
and still care as much about the outcome
I read, because at ten
I fell in love with a teacher twice my age
And because bored was a word 
never to be uttered on a working ranch 
and the world infinitely interesting I carry on
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Cloud Plowed Fields

Audio Recordings, Farm, Poems about Poetry, Ranch Life / August 14, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
I hear that line at an Austin open mic. 
and I want it - actually I want it back
this is my line, how did he find it first 

In any case - I hear the line, and Bam!
I am back in a cloud-scudding sun-baking
Saskatchewan summer fallow summer

Black lands between the glowing gold
John Deere with its hard iron hooves 
ripping up the roots and seeds 
of the flowers no-one wanted
call them weeds

Sometimes cutting worms in half
(I hear that they grow back)

While the little poet sits
by the caragana hedge
choking on the flowers no-one wanted
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Can’t Take the Farm Out of the Boy

Audio Recordings, Family, Farm, Poems about Poetry, Ranch Life / August 13, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
What I learned
of poetry from my father
is that the tractor signs
at just this RPM

Author and his dad on Oliver 88 tractor

1 Reply

Cowboys & Ranchers

Audio Recordings, Cattle, Cows, Farm, Ranch Life / August 12, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
Cowboys may love their horses
but it's the ranchers love the cows

The cowboys know it's their job to keep them critters safe
and pay and found depends 
on their not coming to bad ends

But you won't catch a cowboy
with a soft light in his eye
counting again by one and ten
every head in the holding pen

And ranchers ain't so likely 
when the summer flies are high
and the herd a scattered mess
to wish them all in a warmer place
than the sun-baked August West
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Prairie Ear

Audio Recordings, Ranch Life / August 10, 2022 / by neil_2015_wordpress@neilmeili.com
Outer ear gathering
sounds of birds and wind
and hooves on spring grasses

Playing them soft on the drum
as hammer and anvil and stirrup
pass on the faint creaking leather
of my old Texas boot in the stirrup

Ripples wave down inner membranes
and tiny thousands of hair cells
move like grass in the valley
From pressure to impulse
and from sound to
symbol of
sound

All floating in the liquid balance of an easy lope
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