Love the Blue

Somewhere out between Yukon and El Reno is Banner
It is a great place to travel when clouds form in the sky
It is this area where many farm families still call home
I love to drive their roads and watch a sunset intensify

When the western sky becomes alive with many colors
I keep looking for special shades and that perfect view
For it is only then that my sunset search is all complete
My camera then goes click as I capture... Love the Blue

poem by John McCornack
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Caterpllar Welcomes John McCornack

By the shores of old Pee-o-ree,
Mule and rider stopping, resting.
Mule deciding 'gainst going onward...
Dying from the weight, McCornack's.

Standing on the corpse (not trust-ee) ,
Spying fact'ry by the river,
Seeing rainbow framing jobsight;
Jobsight for the man-McCornack.

Walking up to Caterpill-er,
(Twas in days 'fore scabs and strikers)
Marching through the gateway eas'ly;
Bound for work and pay-McCornack.

Here he's stayed for seven and thir-tee
Wearing cloaks of many colors.
Praised as leader, skilled and daring...
Engineer on staff-McCornack.

[...] Read more

poem by John McCornack
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Red Dirt Cowgirl

Nature grows the weeds and grasses
The wind whips the horse's mane.
They travel, horse and a pretty cowgirl
Through a land that starts with Maine

There is no trail that they follow
No red dirt roads to be seen
Here they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless fields of green

Is this real, or is this make believe
The horse glides on through the night
Searching ever searching for red dirt
With a neon moon providing the only light

Is this real, or is this make believe
Will a red dirt road become a reality
We look toward the western sky
And feel the sweat as the wind rushes by

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poem by John McCornack
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The Creation of John McCornack

By the shores of Okie-homee,
By the dusty, sunburnt trailway,
Stood the wigwam of McCornack,
(Man-child of the corn-McCornack) .

Twas a time in days before-yee,
'Fore the earth's primordial goo days;
Days of frontier exploration,
(Days when men were men-the yore days) .

Brutal was the landscape'round him,
Cowboys, Indians, scorpions plenty,
Tumbleweed and snakes abounding;
Threat'ning life of John-McCornack

Learned to hunt when just a ba-bee.
Stalked the prairie dog and hen.
Bagged coyote for the table;
Fed the village well-McCornack.

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poem by John McCornack
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