the pony bar and grill and backyard bedroom


  • Life

    Poem Commentary

    Hastings College Nebraska 60's

    the pony bar and grill and backyard bedroom

    It was a 1964 and a half poppy red Mustang

    the 3rd one sold off the lot in Laramie Wyoming.

    We called it the pony bar and grill and backyard bedroom

    it took us to Denver and Jan and Dean

    New Orleans and Mardi Gras

    it took us all over Nebraska

    Arapaho Blue Hill the Sandhills rodeo

    Scottsbluff and Sidney

    the archery range at night the North Platte

    and all the gravel roads, probably still littered

    with our Rum and Coke bottles.

    They set up a road block once

    cause’ we cut donuts in this farmer’s yard

    we out ran them


    they were mad as hell but they let us go

    we were college kids.

    It took us back to the college

    where we sang America the Beautiful

    while our Friday night steaks were being charcobroiled

    and everyone laughed at us.

    We were cool.

    Then I went off to crew in the Gulf of Tonkin Yacht Club

    my girlfriend wrote that I wasn’t cool

    when I came home

    my Dad had sold

    the pony bar and grill and back yard bedroom.

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    Teardrops commented on the pony bar and grill and backyard bedroom


    I love the hemi's The power the feel of that when you were getting ready to drag race . YOu have a way of pulling everyone into your poems thanks for the memories Marie

    Whiskers commented on the pony bar and grill and backyard bedroom


    Sounded great. Good times when we were spreading our branches make good memories. I started out in a 2dr Fire engine red Chevy Corvair till I moved onto my next 3 rides... all 1964 Dodges. I loved Mopar's back then. Thanks for sharin your history and comradships. Blessings.



    Ah yes the Corvair..Friend in college had a Spyder Convertable...Pretty cool car..back when you could tell one year from the other..nother' one had a GTO..Think it was the first year..Mopar had some monster cars..

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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