Another winter coming, brave in spirit,
I wonder into the rockies to collect
my traps I catch again this winter, a
lonely job for this lonely Martin
trapper.
I stay through the cold winter in
a small cabin, writing my poems,
drawing by pencil with candle
light flickering softly, a time I
enjoy with myself in the coldness
of evening.
A mountain man they call me,
so humble do I capture what
appears before me, a man of wisdom
a lover of animals, thought I
trap these beautiful martins for there
furs, I have no hurting wishes to
catch them for no reason, only to
make my living each cold winter..
Late eighteen hundreds were
never filled with richness as
it is today, so now I write this
story poem how I lived in glory
when I lived in my little heaven
in my mountain cabin in the rockies
trapping martin, drawing, writing
poetry.
The fire kept me warm, the poems
I wrote made me search deep, my
meditation comforted my lonely
heart when I was so deep in snow.
the cold outside was below zero
only this unknown author I named
myself will never be know each
poem I have written.
I write for the pleasure of releasing
my deepest thoughts, my world flows
over with happiness that I am able to
write what lies deeply about wisdom
about what I believe is worth reading
about, this lonely trapper as I am called,
not really lonely at all, just alone to live,
to write in my journals of life.
So when the day came for me to leave
the Rockies that winter, I never left my
mountain home..I just passed away,
that winter was long, the food gone,
I wrote all my life stories in my journals,
a life I've lived to the fullest..
A True Story Poem.....My Great Grandmothers
Uncle Joe also fought with Custer in his
last stand..He was only fifteen when Custer
sent him to get reinforcements..He knew
it would be his last stand..So he lived on
this lonely mountain man, a man who loved
life and it's richness..
