I was in Carson City, NV during the poetry fest a few years back. The place was jammed. It wasn't Woodstock, but it was heavily attended. Hotels were at capacity and RV's were everywhere. I can't imagine how any government funding was needed to make it a bigger success than it was.
I’ve come back recently and put up several songs. I have been working more than ever before to survive the Obamaconomy. Good to hear from you and thanks for the info on the festival.
“I can’t imagine how any government funding was needed to make it a bigger success than it was.”
You are 100% correct, my FRiend. The show will go on and will now be even bigger, thanks to the despicable slime ball, Harry Reid, for bringing so much attention to it.
There seems to be a few here that are trying to discredit the historical value of real ‘Cowboy Poetry’. Most of these poets (both men and women) are the last of a dying breed, soon to become extinct.
Their verse, poems, stories and ramblings from days long gone are proudly shared with those who did not live during a time when “men were men”. They lived it, they rode the trails, branded the stock and rode the rodeos in their spare time.
Below is a link to my old friend, Bob Schild, well respected Cowboy Poet, bareback & saddle bronc-buster from the old days, rancher & saddle maker, as well as an old school mate of my Father’s.
He wrote this verse for my Father when hearing about his passing.
PALS NOW GONE
“Sore missed are the comrades who’ve passed with the storm,
The best of the litter most often the norm.
The cream of creation has flitted away, though some are remaining-all weathered and gray.
But death, be it final, can’t keep friends apart, for old childhood buddies still live in our hearts!”
“Written with respect to (my Dad’s name) and those like him. Bob Schild, Feb. 28 2005.”
I guarantee that Cowboy Poets are already working on their next poems that will probably start with something like “NPR and Harry Reid be damned......”
Bob is a ‘real cowboy’ and I suggest to those that childishly equate their poetry and yearly gathering with Brokeback Mountain images take the time to read story below.
By the way, if old Bob Schild (80+) heard you call him a sissie-pants for reading poetry, he’d jump off his horse, grab you by the neck and twist it around a couple of times before he had you hog-tied in less than 6.5 seconds.
http://www.cowboypoetry.com/bobschild.htm#About