Got Your Back ...

By Ken Hanson

I have a friend I’ve known for years,
He lives about 3 blocks north of me,
We don’t get together as much as I’d like,
He works just about all the time you see.

We both have a passion for antique tractors,
We display them at our annual tractor show,
We met at a meeting of an antique tractor club,
That I was president of several years ago.

We restore these old machines as a hobby,
To make sure that they survive,
We take them to shows and parades when we can,
To help keep their history alive.

My friend has quite a collection,
Mostly John Deere’s but Farmall’s too,
He’s always looking to add to the fleet,
Most don’t run but a few still do.

He says he’s going to restore them all,
I hope he does, that would really by neat,
He will discover the secret to immorality,
If he lives long enough to accomplish that feat.

My friend Chris has a brother,
He’s someone that all of you know,
Kyle is a member of this congregation,
He usually sits in the second row.

These two brothers are so much alike,
Kind of like Dave and me,
They look alike, they talk alike,
The family resemblance is there to see.

They’re both friendly and outgoing,
Full of energy and full of spirit,
I call it switched on all the time,
It will rub off on you if you get anywhere near it.

Kyle adds a lot of flavor to these services,
You can tell how much he loves the Lord,
He’s what people call a real character,
Hang around him and you’ll never be bored.

He’s also a testament to the power of Holy Spirit,
There is nothing in your life that God can’t fix,
He can snatch you back from the grasp of your demons,
“With God all things are possible”, Matthew 19:26,

One of the nice things about having a brother,
There’s always someone who’s got your back,
That means someone’s watching out for you,
He will help you stay on the right track.

Chris and Kyle, me and Dave,
We enjoy the advantage of having a brother,
He’s got my back and I’ve got his,
We’re always looking out for one another,

I’m sure it’s the same way with sisters,
But there’s not one in our family tree,
He’s the older one, I’m the younger one,
It’s always been just Dave and me.

But our family’s way bigger than that,
Some our age, some younger, some old,
We are all brothers and sisters in Christ,
Born again Christians with a common goal.

We are all here to serve the Lord,
It is our mission to help spread His word,
We must tell others about the salvation He offers,
Everyone needs to have heard.

How do we do that? We each have our way,
Some kick off a service with music at the start,
Some lead the children with a time just for them,
Some of us hope our poems touch a heart.

Some teach a class, some work in the nursery,
Some teach the young ones to rope and ride,
Some serve as an elder, some as a mentor,
We all serve The Lord with a humble sense of pride.

We also carry His words beyond these doors,
That’s the mission of any church of course,
Some witness to others at work or at school,
Some do it from the saddle of a horse.

Serving The Lord should be a priority in our lives,
There’s lots of ways to do that every day,
As many as there are people on earth,
We each have to find our own unique way.

Some might say “I don’t know how”,
“I don’t know what I should do”,
Don’t worry about that, we’ve got your back,
This whole congregation will stand behind you.

This family of God stands untied,
I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine,
Kyle and Dave have got both of ours,
And the whole church has theirs in kind.

Our pastor has got every ones back,
And Jesus stands behind him too,
God our creator started it all,
He made all of them, and me, and you.

When you open your heart to His Holy Spirit,
Your cup runneth over and your new life will begin,
Jesus provided the path to His Kingdom,
When He died on the cross to save us from sin.

It’s a trickle down theory of the Righteous kind,
From God Our Creator, through Jesus, to you,
Embrace His Holy Spirit and ask for His help,
He will show you what you can do.

In Jesus name, open your heart in prayer,
If you don’t know what to say, for you see,
In a quiet moment He will give you the words,
Just as He does for me.

Your Favorite Horse

By Ken Hanson

Pleasing you pleases me,
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,
It’s been that way a very long time,
Ever since my world was still brand new.

Your favorite horse, that’s what you call me,
I work real hard to deserve that name,
It goes without saying you’re my favorite cowboy,
You can be sure that will always be the same.

Oh sure, when I was young I fought you real hard,
I thought I needed to be wild and free,
But you were determined to give me a chance,
You refused to give up on me.

You worked with me and calmed me down,
I finally began to see things your way,
We started to become quite a team,
One that continues to this very day.

I learned what you wanted from me,
You knew how to teach me with a gentle hand,
The skills I need for a cowboys job,
You whisper to me and I understand.

We’ve been together for many years now,
Perfecting the job we do as a team,
The other cowboys watch our moves,
A little envious it would seem.

Whether putting loose strays in a pen,
Or cutting steers from the herd,
It seems like I can feel your thoughts,
We do the job without a single word.

When we’re working our minds are one,
I know what you want before you do,
The touch of a spur, the flick of a rein,
A slight shift in the saddle by you.

I dodge and you lean into the turn,
Perfectly balanced like we’re connected,
Other cowboys hang on the top rail,
To watch the moves we have perfected.

I can feel your weight upon my back,
But it doesn’t slow me down at all,
At least until that fateful day,
I stepped in a hole and took a fall.

You weren’t hurt but I broke my leg,
I thought you were going to put me down,
I could see the worry in your eyes,
First time I’ve ever seen you frown.

The vet set my leg, put it in a cast,
Said it wasn’t that bad after all,
First time in my life that I can’t work,
All I can do is hobble around this stall,

You feed me every day to keep me alive,
Fresh water, oats, and sweet hay too,
But this isn’t what I call living,
I want to come back to work with you.

The job we did gave me purpose,
I miss it more than you’ll ever know,
Our teamwork means more than life itself,
I wish that I could tell you so.

The days go by, I’m slowly getting better,
But I see you working with a younger horse,
It breaks my heart but I understand,
A cowboys work must continue of course.

It’s been a year now, I’m out in the pasture,
I still can’t run no matter how hard I try,
Some days I get so lonely,
I just want to lay down and die.

Something happened today I didn’t expect,
You brought your grandson to the pasture to see me,
He was so little you carried him in your arms,
He must have been about two or three.

He was scared at first, but you talked to him,
He settled down and overcame his fear,
You held him up and I walked around slowly,
He held my mane tightly and laughed in my ear.

The fact that you trust me with this precious child,
Makes my heart swell with pride,
It’s been a long time since I felt useful,
It feels like it just might burst inside.

You bring him to ride me when he comes for a visit,
It gives me something to look forward to,
He’s my little cowboy and I’m his horsey,
You’re still my favorite but he might replace you.

That little cowboy has lassoed my heart,
That’s way better than being wild and free,
There are other horses he could choose to ride,
But he only wants to ride me.

The years have passed, he’s growing like a weed,
Big enough to ride me on his own now,
I can run, but not good enough to work,
That doesn’t matter anymore anyhow.

I have a new job now with my little cowboy,
That’s better than chasing steers of course,
Although we’ll never work together again,
I hope I’ll always be your favorite horse.

It’s The Reason We’re All Here ...

By Ken Hanson
Note: I was inspired to write this poem by the galvanized steel horse-trough the Palo Duro Cowboy Church in Canyon, Texas uses for baptisms.

Some are made of marble or granite,
Spare no expense, the best of the best,
Impressive to see, to say the least,
Strictly first class compared to the rest.

Some are made of sculptured concrete,
Functional and attractive, as well,
Probably surrounded by flowers or plants,
They serve their need, that you can tell.

Some are made of more modest materials,
I can see one from where I stand,
Made of galvanized metal, simple and plain,
It’s right over there next to the band.

Baptistries range from humble to majestic,
But they all do the very same thing,
It’s the final step to being born again,
It lets the people know your life has changed.

Whether marble, granite, concrete, or metal,
They have nothing whatsoever to do,
With the salvation you have chosen to receive,
That’s a relationship between Christ and you.

That metal tank that’s full of water,
Isn’t there for your horse,
It’s for the rest of us to witness your decision,
It’s a symbol of your salvation of course.

When you make the decision to follow Jesus,
The water washes away your sin,
You rise as Christ did on that third day,
Your life begins anew and you are born again.

That humble metal tank would look out of place,
In a gothic cathedral I fear,
But likewise that giant marble lap pool,
Wouldn’t fit in here.

A church will find what works for them,
No two congregations are the same,
Some might require that they have the best,
Others prefer something a little more tame.

That giant chunk of a granite mountain,
Rising up behind a large choir,
Complements the stained glass and organ pipes,
Something a wealthy congregation can admire.

The thousands of gallons in that big pool,
Can’t baptize any better than a horse trough can,
A couple of feet is more than enough,
For any woman, child, or man.

God doesn’t care how much water there is,
A few drops would wash away your sin,
It only matters what’s in your heart,
And where you’re going, not where you’ve been.

I’m sure Jesus wouldn’t mind,
Someone baptized in whatever could be found,
A water trough was surely in the manger of his birth,
After all, there were animals all around.

That simple little metal tank,
Is something in a cowboy’s world every day,
He knows it’s as good as an ocean,
At washing sin away.

When someone is baptized during a service,
The whole church will rejoice on that special day,
It lets the pastor know he’s done a good job,
Kinda like a little bonus in your pay.

When we see someone rise from the water,
We all praise God and cheer,
Helping someone become a new Christian,
Is the reason we’re all here.

Small Footprints In The Sand

By Ken Hanson

Our country changed September Eleven,
Right there for the whole world to see,
Our way of life had a wake up call,
It’ll never again be the way it used to be.

If those words sound familiar it’s because they began,
A poem I wrote years ago,
A tragic event in our beloved country,
A date that we all know.

Ten years later and we still hurt,
So many people we lost that day,
We grieve and move on as best we can,
But the pain will never go away.

Our innocence was lost early that morning,
We now know how vulnerable we are,
The terrorists got the upper hand that day,
Their worst attack on our soil by far.

When the towers fell and lives were lost,
We immediately became aware,
Just how important salvation is,
As the cries of the injured filled the air.

Some might say there’s plenty of time,
I’ll make that decision some other day,
How could they have possibly known,
American Flight Eleven was minutes away.

I prayed that everyone that died that day,
Knew The Lord and was saved long ago,
But some people are good procrastinators,
You just knew in your heart is wasn’t so.

When you’re a born again Christian,
In time, you’ll see those who are saved again,
But knowing some were inevitably lost,
I grieve even more for them.

It’s our job as servants of The Lord,
To help save as many as we can,
It cuts deep when we’re not in time,
And we lose even one woman or man.

About the only good thing that happened that day,
The towers were for commerce, children were spared,
Still, far too many lost one parent or both,
And were left alone and scared.

The most innocent victims did nothing wrong,
But their lives were shattered by evil men,
Terrorists don’t care who they kill,
They don’t consider it a sin.

When the dust finally settled, the dead were counted,
It became clear how many children were affected,
But New Yorkers stepped up and took care of their own,
Not a single child would be alone or neglected.

Aunts and uncles, grandparents and siblings,
All pitched in during this darkest of time,
Foster families made room in their lives,
Whatever it took so the children were fine.

Time goes by, memories fade,
You try to hold on to the people you knew,
But when you’re trying to get over the loss of a parent,
You can ask me and Dave, you never really do.

We’re all familiar with “Footprints In The Sand”,
Two sets, side by side, good days and bad ones too,
On our darkest days there’s only one set,
And The Lord said, “It was then that I carried you”.

For ten years now, small footprints in the sand,
So many children just trying to survive,
Some are them too young to understand,
Why their parents are not alive.

Long lines of footprints there in the sand,
Mostly two sets, quite often only one,
The burden these children live with,
Shouldn’t be carried by someone so young.

If I could speak to them, I would say,
Cling to The Father like the father you knew,
He will carry you as far as you need,
There is no end of his love for you.

When you are old enough to make the decision,
Give your soul to Jesus, live your life free of sin,
Honor the memory of your mother and father,
Be at peace knowing you will see them again.

To the procrastinators I would urge them,
Quit stalling, make your decision today,
It happened once, you never know,
When a plane might be headed your way.

Only God Knows ...

By Ken Hanson

If it was easy everyone would do it,
That’s what I’ve heard people say,
Several days hard riding in 100 degree weather,
Over 800 miles each way.

We do it right in the middle of summer,
When the sun looks for skin to be burned,
Those who do it earn the respect of their peers,
It’s a recognition that’s well earned.

Sturgis they call it, the town and the event,
A week long gathering half a million strong,
The biggest biker rally in the world,
A party lasting all week long.

A sleepy little farm town the rest of the year,
Sturgis wakes up when the bikes come to town,
On the north end of the Black Hills of South Dakota,
It’s a name that’s known the world around.

Every August for 71 years,
Bikers the world over point their machines this way,
Rides through the mountains, concerts and races,
Something to do every minute of every day.

Old friends get together and talk about the ride,
New friends every year camped right next to you,
A week of good times and good memories,
A pilgrimage every biker at least once should do.

People here come from all walks of life,
Normal ones and outlaws as well,
Most are good people like you and me,
Some just aren’t right, those you can tell.

Some bring their families, some bring their dogs,
Most bring a girlfriend or wife,
A few might come looking for trouble,
They bring tattoos and a knife.

Now tattoos don’t always mean trouble,
Good people have them too,
But as if it were meant to announce their intentions,
The outlaws always do.

They bring their own rules and disregard the law,
They only care about one of their own,
They think they’re better than everyone else,
Their contempt for society is well known.

The one percenters they like to be called,
The name came from a journalist long ago,
He said only one percent of bikers are outlaws,
They wear in on a patch so everyone will know.

Most of the time they don’t cause much trouble,
The large Police presence keeps them in line,
Still, you’ll do well to keep out of their way,
Leave them alone and you’ll be just fine.

There are dozens of outlaw biker gangs,
You can tell by the colors they wear,
And the leather and chains and the greasy smell,
And the tattoos and of course the long hair.

You might think the scary ones are all outlaws,
Look closer, you won’t believe what you’ve seen,
A small gold cross, a tattoo of Jesus,
A worn patch that says John 3:16.

Not all rough looking bikers are outlaws,
Many gave their soul to Jesus long ago,
They knew their lifestyle was a path of destruction,
They found the path to salvation was the way to go.

They changed their life to save their life,
Salvation is offered to everyone no matter how you look,
The patience of Jesus has no limits,
He’ll hold the door open no matter how long it took.

That scary looking biker is in a gang too,
God’s gang, he spreads the word till the truth is known,
He rides for The Son as well,
Though his beast is steel and chrome.

Hardcore Christians they’ve come to be called,
They outnumber the outlaws ten to one,
Their ministry is everywhere on the streets of Sturgis,
The world is a better place when their day is done.

It took a while for me to realize all of this,
It’s easy to judge others on the appearance of them,
But that’s not what we’re supposed to do,
That’s Gods job, leave it to him.

When you meet someone, forget about how they look,
Tell them Jesus offers a fresh start,
“Judge Not Least Ye Be Judged”
Only God knows what’s in their heart.

It isn't me ...

Poetry by Ken Hanson
Illustration by Steve Douglass

I’ve said this before, so you already know it,
It’s probably obvious to y’all,
There’s no use trying to hide the fact,
I’m not a real cowboy at all.

I ride a Harley, not a horse,
I can control something not smarter than me,
I tried riding horses when I was younger,
So far the attempts have been three.

Twice I tried riding my cousins Shetland Pony,
They put me on him, said everything would be fine,
Mean little sucker wanted me off of his back,
Both times, straight for the clothes line.

Once I rode an old nag at the stables,
In Palo Duro Canyon on a warm summer day,
We left the stable, plodding slowly down the trail,
We didn’t get very far away.

The canyon is beautiful, the weather was nice,
I thought, “Riding a horse is pretty sweet”,
Then, that nag turned around, headed back to it’s food,
That’s what they do when it time to eat.

So I got a motorcycle and forgot about horses,
It’s a sad fact, but you see,
If you’re looking for a real cowboy,
I’m sorry to say, It isn’t me.

I stand in front of this cowboy band,
Amazed at what they do,
They use the gift that God has given them,
To worship Him and entertain us too.

It takes a special talent to perform music,
Something not everyone can do,
I tried my hand at it when I was younger,
I was not one of the chosen few.

Dave’s played the bass since junior high,
Inspired when Paul McCartney appeared on TV,
Over forty years music’s been part of his life,
Serving The Lord for all too see.

We’re all fortunate to have music in our lives,
Whether our own or someone else we see,
If you’re looking for a real musician,
Once again, it isn’t me.

I did receive the gift of words,
Putting them together so the right ones rhyme,
Poems that are funny or inspirational,
Hopefully at least some of the time.

I use this talent to serve The Lord,
The right words can help someone make a fresh start,
I’ll help them find their way back on the path,
And help them ask Jesus into their heart.

I believe we have all been given a talent,
To serve The Lord and spread the word,
Salvation’s too important to leave any behind,
Everyone needs to have heard.

I’m the one who writes it all down,
Sometimes I think I’m smart enough,
To remember the words without the book,
It looks easy from there but up here it’s tough.

So sometimes I’ll leave the book at home,
Successful only one time out of three,
If you’re looking for someone with a perfect memory,
Sorry, It isn’t me.

What a surprise, I’m not perfect,
Guess what, neither are you,
We have all fallen short of the glory of God,
There’s nothing about that that we can do.

Sometimes it hurts to tell the truth,
It has to be told, that’s nothing new,
There’s only one person on Earth that was perfect,
And I can assure you, it isn’t me, or you.

But we don’t have to be, that’s the whole point,
Jesus died on the cross to save us from sin,
You can’t buy or earn your way into heaven,
You have to be invited in.

“No one comes to the father but through me,”
Jesus told us we have to do,
We have to admit we have sinned, then turn away,
And believe he died on the cross for me and you.

We have to give him control over our lives,
Getting us into Heaven meant everything to Him,
Jesus loved us enough to die for us,
Let’s find the lost ones and tell it to them.

So here I am, I can’t ride horses, I can’t play music,
I’m not a real cowboy, but you see,
If you’re looking for someone plum crazy about Jesus,
You’re in luck, It is me.

I Believe

By Ken Hanson

They ran in while others ran out,
That fateful day in 01,
Thousands died but many were saved,
Before the day was done.

First responders we call them,
Police, firemen, and paramedics too,
We also call them hero’s,
Their job is to save me and you.

They were where they were supposed to be,
The day the twin towers fell,
A lot more would have died had it not been for them,
They did their job very well.

Some say miracles happened that day,
As the cries of the injured filled the air,
They will say they were just doing their job,
But I believe it was God who put them there.

The earth moves, buildings fall,
And the ocean comes ashore,
Thousands trapped and dying in the rubble,
The water took thousands more.

Japan is devastated by natural disaster,
We watch the chaos on the evening news show,
How much worse can it possibly get,
All too soon, we know.

Without power, coolant pumps fail,
Reactors heat up out of control,
Man’s technology turns against him now,
Aided by Mother Natures role.

Buildings explode, steam escapes,
Radiation finds it’s way to the sea,
Human life hangs in the balance,
How much worse can it be?

We watch from our safety an ocean away,
The workers try to control their beast,
They face lethal levels of radiation,
We expect a few to run at least.

But none do, they head back in,
They sacrifice themselves to save other lives,
They willingly do what has to be done,
To save their town, their children, their wives.

Where do you find the courage to do that,
To put the safety of others ahead of your own,
I believe it to be a gift from God,
His love for us is well known.

A waiting room is a tense environment,
When a loved one is hurt or sick,
When their life depends on someone else,
It can test your faith pretty quick.

You pray that doctor or surgeon,
Has the best in training and a level head,
If something went terribly wrong,
They could end up worse or possibly dead.

Thankfully, that rarely happens,
Doctors are good at what they do,
The right people in the right place,
To save the life of me or you.

An experienced pilot in the left seat,
When the birds hit the plane that day,
A power off landing in the middle of the Hudson,
And everyone walks away.

A little baby falls down a well,
Miners trapped underground,
The right people on hand to get them out,
And everyone’s safe and sound.

Time and again we see on the news,
Someone saved in a dramatic way,
They were lucky a hero was there by chance,
Is what some people might say.

I don’t believe in fate or chance,
I don’t believe in coincidence at all,
I do believe it’s a part of God’s plan,
He’s the one in control after all.

That hero that saved that person that day,
Was right where they was supposed to be,
They didn’t just happen to be right there,
It’s part of God’s plan you see.

We know that God watches over us all,
He makes us strong enough to survive,
But if we’re not he will send in a hero,
Someone put there to keep us alive.

A nurse finds a fever at 3 am,
A cop sees a thief breaking in,
A marine sees a bully take an old lady’s purse,
You gotta feel sorry for him.

A doctor pulls up to a traffic accident,
A teacher sees a child fall behind,
It’s no coincidence they’re where they are,
And they’re competent, good, and kind.

God knows what will happen before it does,
It’s all a part of his immortal plan,
We have to trust in His divine judgment,
That’s not negotiable by mortal man.

God lets good people die every day,
That’s where your faith comes in,
When you are a born again Christian,
In time, you’ll see them again.

When you give your heart and soul to Jesus,
By His grace you are forgiven of your sin,
You shall live forever in the Kingdom of Heaven,
Your life begins anew and you are born again.

I believe that hero’s are Gods visible work,
I believe there are things we are meant to do,
I believe that God has a plan for us all,
That’s what I believe, now how about you?