The sign reads Farm Auction Sale today.
The barn roof is starting to sag,
And fluttering in the breeze are remnants of an old British flag.
The farm has been in this family for over a hundred years,
The granddaughter tells me through her tears.
My granddad and dad were both born in this old house,
Then she became quiet as a church mouse.
There are so many memories on a place with so much history
There are many tales to be told and even a little mystery.
Many children climbed the stairs as off to bed they were sent;
Now the steps are saggy and worn and the handrail a little bent.
The old wood stove that had cooked so many a meal was replaced by an
electric about ten years ago,
Grandma figured she's better upgrade and go with the flow.
Well grandma died two years ago and that left grandpa all alone,
But we keep in touch with him by phone.
My dad doesn't want to take over the farm the granddaughter says,
He has moved on to a different career; doesn't want to follow the old ways.
But I wish I was older, I'd like to keep the farm,
It has a special place in my heart with its memories and country charm.
The sign reads Farm Auction Sale today,
Many treasured possessions will be going far away.
The old piano and a few old milk cans,
And even to the auction block will go Gran's old cast iron fry pans.
The old horse collars will end up in some collectors home,
No longer on a Percherons neck will they around the grain field roam.
The buildings and the land are on the auction block as well,
It's hard to see the old place sell.
The sign reads Farm Auction Sale today,
Grandma's gone and now Grandpa is going away

Dianne Brandson, (August 19, 2000 Stony Plain Gathering, 11 PM)



This is My Sky

Dam you blue monsters that rape my land,
And feed the plants that polute my air.
I look down from above and curse you with my cry
"This is my sky!"
Dam you for pouring your waste into my lakes, rivers and streams,
And killing my birds and my fish and sometimes my people...
I look down from above and curse you with my cry.
"This is my sky!"
Dam you for hunting the wolf almost to extinction,
And now his crys are of sorrow not joy.
I look down from above and curse you with my cry.
"This is my sky!"
The race for power has no morality....
The average person is chewed up and tossed aside.
I look down from above and i curse you with my cry.
"This is my sky!"
And the government favoures the larger corporations,
And corruption is all around.
I look down from above and i curse you with my cry.
"This is my sky!"
I am the Eagle the surveyor of Mother Earth,
And you have sinned against all that is sacred to the Creator.
I look down from above and i curse you with my cry.
"This is my sky!" "Yes This is my sky!!"

January 25, 2009
by: Dianne Brandson

This is an enviromental protest poem written about the coal power plants in Alberta that polute Lake Wabamun


Go Against the Grain

My dad was a carpenter and when i went to him for advice,
He'd tell me "Girl do it your way" It's ok to go against the grain.
Go against the grain girl, you may find a rougher cut,
But go against the grain girl, I wish you nothing but luck!

Well my dad was also a farmer, growing up i never knew we were poor,I'd take my lunch to school in a syrup pail and wear hand me downs...
The town kids would tease me and i knew i wasn't cool.
When i would ask my dad "What should I do?"
He'd tell me,"Sticks and stones could break my bones,
But words could never hurt me"
He'd say "Girl do it your way" It's ok to go against the grain.
Go against the grain girl, you may find a rougher cut,
But go against the grain girl, i wish you nothing but luck!
As i grew older and boys were on my mind, 
but when it came to school dances i was always left behind...
When i asked Dad what should i do?
He would say, "One day they will realize what they missed."
And then he'd say, "Girl do it your way." It's ok to go against the grain.
Go against the grain girl, you may find a rougher cut,
But go against the grain girl, I wish you nothing but luck...
We didn't have money for college and i dropped out of school,
But i always had a job as i was nobodys fool...
I knew i needed more so i asked my dad, "What should i do?"
He said, "Do what's in your heart and to your own self be true."
And then he said,"Girl do it your way>" It's ok to go against the grain.
Go against the grain girl, you may find a rougher cut.
But go against the grain girl, i wish you nothing but luck.
Unfortunately my dad died before he could witness my success.
I became a teacher at forty I've been truly blessed...
But many days since then I wish my dad were here to give me advice.
I'd love to be able to listen to him say,

"Girl do it your way!" It's ok to go against the grain.
Go against the grain girl, you may find a rougher cut,
But go against the grain girl I wish you nothing but luck...

written March 7, 2009
by: Dianne Brandson
This is what i wish my dad would have said to me!!


The Gift

The wind was howling out of the Northwest.
The grey was giving the old cowboy his very best.
The snow was belly deep...
Hopefully they would make it home before it was time to sleep.
Suddenly out of the blizzard appeared a weather beaten figure.
The grey snorted and stopped dead,
The old cowboy leaned down to talk but this ia what the stranger said,
"My son keep watch and the light will take you home."
Just as fast as he appeared he was gone, and the old cowboy was all alone.
Had he been imagining what he saw and heard?
Could he believe the strangers word?
The snow was coming faster now...
The grey stumbled on something, Lord it was a frozen stiff cow...
The old cowboy too was almost frozen stiff,
He couldn't see how close he was to the Big Valley cliffs.
Suddenly between gusts of snow, off to his left he saw a light.
He didn't know of any cabins in that direction, but it was a welcome sight.
Urging the grey forward, how far was it to go?
The old cowboys heart was beating slow.
Deadly cold was penetrating deep,
He could feel deart beginning it's slow creep.
But wait the light seems brighter now!
The grey had made it, he didn't know how...
He fell to the snow as he tried to dismount,
Crawled slowly forward each inch he'd count.
Woke up the next morning in his own bedrool,
The old cowboy felt thankful to the bottom of his soul.
Words of a stranger had come true...
He didn't know how, he hadn't a clue.
But he gave thanks to the angel the Creator had given,
So he and the grey could go on livin...

September 25, 2009
By: Dianne Brandson

Some poems are just given!!! and I'm thankful!




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