Expert: Theresa Harvard Johnson - 2/7/2009

Question
Dear Theresa,
I wrote a poem that my sister, who is an employed artist, thought would make a good short book.  She would like to illustrate this as it reads like a story.
I like her idea but feel this poem would need a lot of refinement.  I am not my own best reviewer and have been looking for a disinterested person to give me feedback, not praise.
Would you be able to look this poem over for me and give me your opinion of its readability?
I'm not sure of the process here so I am attaching it to this question.  I apologize if I am skipping any steps in this process.
I would point out that the grammar is purposely lazy, to further the image of everyday cowboys.

Thank you in advance for you time and assistance.

Sincerely,

Andrew Dayton


Three young friends went riding
To see what they could see
To spend three days a-drifting
And one of the friends was me


We galloped through the valleys
And camped among the trees
We rode along the mountains
And batted in the breeze.


We came one night at twilight
When hunger had us in
To a campfire warm and cheerful
A campfire and two men.


They hailed us well and welcome
As we climbed down stiff and sore
They began to make some coffee
(Which we gave them from our stores.)


I said, "my name is Rico.
My mates are Cliff and Clem
We're glad to share your campfire."
I said to the two of them.


Then they hauled themselves afoot
And each stuck out a hand
And said "I'm pleased to meet you,
Rico, Cliff and Clem."


They settled down while we eased our mounts
and didn't give their names
But watched us in amusement
While the moon and starlight came


We sat around the campfire
And told our stories true
Of boasts and hopes and longing
And all we thought we knew.


Oh, we were a fiddle-footed lot
of boys yearning to be men
And we talked of things important
As we saw them just then.


Then the first man hitched himself around
And introduced us to his name
The other dumped his coffee,
And then he did the same.


And he said," our names are strange
Though we're strangers not to you,
And we're surely glad you found us
As it's time we met you too."


The first man said," I'm Loyal,
That's short for Loyalty.
There's not a man met in kinship,
That hasn't met with me."


The other one jumped in talking,
With hardly a moment's pause
And said," Just call me Trust."
And rubbed his grizzled jaw.


He said," You'll think we're odd
but we've been a-waiting here for you,
To help you boys grow up
To be good men straight and true."


We been here for many years,
waiting on the likes of you,
though not too many find us,
And them that do is few."


The first said "Yes my name is Loyal,
And odd though it may be
you'll be surprised by the men
You'll meet that has met with me.


You'll see them at a wedding,
On a barstool, in a jam.
In a spot that's unfamiliar,
Mayhap a place called Viet Nam"


"My friendship is quite treasured
And is shared in a manner spare
Though it's known in every language,
It still rings pretty rare."


The other spoke up soft-like,
"I'm Trusty Worthington,
But you just call me Trust and
I'll teach you to make good friends."


I've ridden some miles and crossed the trails
Of many a good man
And when you meet up with them
You can put your life in their hands


You'll find that we're important
No, not in a worldly way,
But when you need a helping hand
We help you on your way."


Then the silence fell and we thought a spell
as the fire crackled low,
And a third voice rolled out gentle,
Gentle, solemn, slow:


" So here you are at last
with my companions two.
The very best friends a man could have   
And I see they've met you too.


Then we saw a man dressed strangely,
In the flickering shadows he stood
And we felt a warm breeze rising
>From the quiet of the woods


His clothing was quite different
He was groomed and curried neat
In a long white gown a-flowing
To the ground above bare feet.


Me, I stared open-mouthed
And my heart beat fit to bust.
As my two chums stood a-gaping
His voice began rolling thus:


"These men are my pardners
We've been around some time
I'm right proud of their company
These two good friends of mine."


We three ride together and
You'll never see us alone
We're none without the other
We always ride as one


We were named, our three fine names
By my Father up above
You've met Loyal and Trusty,
And me, my name is Love."


You boys have stout hearts
And as you continue down your trail
We'll help you muddle through choices
Where most men trip and fail


Then he commenced to talking
My heart leapt with each word
And I knew that we - Cliff, Clem and me
Were amazed by what we heard.


We sat in still-life silence,
The smoke wreathed us each in turn
And the words he spoke drove deeply
With a truth that burned and burned.


We listened until the sun rose
Where night shook hands with day
Then he stopped and sat down quiet,
Run plumb out of things to say


I was the first to find my voice,
"Will we meet you again?"
He poured himself some coffee
And grinned at his two friends.


"We won't be sharing a campfire
But don't take that too hard.
Now that we've done our talking
I'd be glad to call you pards


So when you clasp a hand in friendship
You'll know they know us too.
And every single friend you make
Will be a good one through and through."


Then he looked us over careful
And iron was in that gaze
With piercing eyes I'll recognize
The remainder of my days


Well, we broke the camp and took our leave
And my heart was sitting fine
And I could see the same thing
In the eyes of those chums of mine.


Sometimes I get to thinking
And missing those three fine gents
But I carry with me their message
Their words and what they meant.
So not a day goes passing
I don't see the faces of those men
Of Love and Loyalty and Trust
In those I call my friends.  

Answer
Greetings Andrew,

I actually read and review poetry differently than most scholars in that I almost always focus on the message behind what is written, and the clarity of the piece. In addition, I like to keep the author's unique writing style, voice and "poetic design" in the poem. So my responses might not always be what others think they should be, but they fit within the ministry focus for Christian creative writing.

I am inclined to agree with your sister concerning this poem. The imagery here would come alive with paintings or pictures. In addition, the story was easy to read and fun to follow from beginning to end. This should answer your question concerning readability. In addition, the message is refreshing -- at least to me. I read through it several times.

In my opinion, I believe your sister is leading you in the right direction, and I do hope you follow her on this one. It would make a great picture book. Really.

Theresa Johnson