Stephen's Poems
(about astronauts and space)
It is the time
to set the mission
and hear the wish
on the satellite dish.
And when you're finished
with your mission,
and you've heard
your wish on the satellite dish,
it feels so good
just to jump and twirl
back into the world.
by Stephen Welty (1997)
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Cowboy country is so dry
Drier than you and I
could ever stand
And I see the beating sun
beyond a beating drum
There's no gum
nothing to eat - hardly
Hardly anything to drink
as I think
Cowboy country is so dry
that you might faint
in a bucket of paint
Then I saw this lake
full of water
and an otter
and a drake
waddling on the lake
I wish that I was back home
not feeling so dry
But now, beyond you and I
I get this funny feeling
that I'm not alone
or on my own
I hear the stampeding of a hunter
getting closer and closer to you and I
I bet their throats are so dry
but they don't want to be so dry
Neither do I
as I run and see their capture board
they riding on a wooden saddle
as I run to them and say,
``What are you at?''
and they say,
``We're running down cattle
on our saddle.''
As I think
it's time to skeedaddle
I run and run and run
and I hear the howling of a coyote
I run and run
not to give up
until I run so far I've run 1000 miles
to the end of the desert
But now I'm only 100 miles
I have another 900 miles to go
I see this car
4 wheel drive
and ``I've
run 100 miles,'' I say.
And they say ``Hop aboard''
And I jump in the driver's seat
going 69 miles per hour.
2 hours have passed
and I still have a tower
to go before I reach home.
My domed city-side home.
Now 1 more hour has passed.
I've gone 307 miles
and I still have 693 miles left to go.
I speed up going 90 mph.
Now I have 397
and 4 hours have passed.
I speed up going 100 mph
200,300,400,500,600,700,
800,900,1000,1001,1002,1003
I'm back
to my country home
in the city
in Montana.
Dome city-side home
that me and my family roam.
``I'm back,'' I say,
``I'm back''
I jump in the front door
and say something more
about my visit
to Cowboy Country.
by Stephen Welty (1997)
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I am a soldier
Yes,
I know I was sent here to be
A defender of freedom
A safe fortress for it to lie down in
And yes,
I know this job is my duty
To protect mankind from further tyranny
But still,
As the soldiers around me long for an easy victory to thrust upon the enemy
I yearn to be a part of spring
To feel the roses,
Sweet and red
Instead of the gun that's in my hand
Oh, God made the world
With its precious life
A whole big workshop
That I want to be a worker in
Day in, day out
The pine trees, the flowers, the hawks that catch trout
In the woods --
Which I also so dearly
Have longed to befriend --
Are making me woozy
At the thought of some dreamt up time in the woods
Which could only be dreamt
When you're among this time of crisis
Oh how I long for, yearn for, pray for
A moment with spring
When I could run off
Run out of my dirt grey uniform
Into the wild
Where I could pick flowers --
Indian paint brushes --
Catch game
Scramble along some old, forgotten,
And secret trail
And sometimes I do almost think it happened
But alas, it's those sweet dreams again
And I'm training with that band of men again
Be patient, I tell myself though
The day will come
When God in his mercy will allow me to be free
He will wrench my much bruised hands from the musket
And into Timberland will I go
And stay
Forever!
by Stephen Welty (2002)
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Take it to the hole ...
Swish!
Out to the top of the key ...
Swish!
From deep downtown
Ring it up!
Do some funk
Slam dunk!
Sweating, panting, battling, mauling
Glorious ball war
This is what I live for
I am basketball's gladiator
I live for the sound of that swish
The ball obeys my wish
I give no mercy
I take no mercy
I am streetball's M.J.
by Stephen Welty (2003)
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Go back to my home page
Go to UC Astro home page
Dan Welty / dwelty@oddjob.uchicago.edu
Last modified 9 Feb 2002