My Poems
Charline Whitlow Moore
Kathie & I were looking forward to our cruise
Certainly not expecting such terrible news
Yet the dreaded call was so profound
That we took the next exit and turned around
My brother-in-law Sammy was on the line
Saying my sister was in deep decline
Told us he was calling everyone in
That he feared Charline was near the end
My dear sister did leave this earth a few days later
Peacefully going to meet her creator
Sole family survivor I then became
Alone to carry on the family name
Why did Charline die before me?
That I should die first, all would agree
For all her life, she did good and was strong
While I did just about everything wrong
Smoking cigarette, Lord, I couldn’t get enough
While Charline never touched the stuff
Nor I was not beyond taking a drink or two
While Charline always said, “No thank you”
So, why is Charline in that grave?
It should be me the way I behave
Not something I can ever explain
That answer is with God and shall remain
I remember the good times on North 3rd Street
Like typical sibs, we would always compete
Mother would cook brownies, we fought to lick the pan
Or who got to sit next to Daddy on the divan.
Christmas eve was something really special
Mother and Daddy took it to an all new level
After a meal fit for a king
We’d sit around the tree in a great big ring
Would open all our presents from each other
Admiring what we’d all gotten one another
Then Charline and I would be sent to bed
Assured that Santa was near in his sled
Waking long before Mom and Dad next door
We’d both huddle by the furnace on the cold floor
We couldn’t run to the tree til they were awake
So, we’d see just how much noise we could make
With them finally awake we would make our run
Eager to see what goodies Santa had brung
Wondering how Santa knew what we’d ask for
Only Mom and Dad knew that score
Ah sweet memories of a family I loved dearly
And a dear, dear sister I lost prematurely
Not so sure I like being the last
With all these memories of those who have passed
Might have been better if I’d been first to go
Least then there’d still be a Charline Whitlow
A person far better than me to persevere
And tackle this old world year after year
I miss you sweet Charline
Will join you soon
Your brother, Duane
by: Duane Whitlow - 2023
Lara’s Theme
When simple words do not fit
Music is the only way to say it
For example:
The haunting notes of Lara’s Theme
Shout “love” to the ultimate extreme
When Yuri and Lara would chance to meet
Only music could go that deep
Mere words just don’t have that much devotion
Only music lets us “feel” Yuri’s emotion
Music is a language just like the written word
Used so feelings can be “heard”
When words just can’t quite communicate
Music is there to further create
Dr. Zhivago, the movie, is a tale told well
Pasternack, the author, really did excel
But Jarre, the composer, added so much more
When he wrote that haunting score
Oh, how I would love to compose such a verse
Something so beautiful to leave on this earth
Or write an epic story as good as can be
Then hire a composer much better than me
Lara’s Theme” added so much to the novel
Changing it from great to utterly colossal
Strange how a few notes can add so much
Being able to “feel” a story gives it that special touch
by B. Duane Whitlow - May 2025
Ronald Neal Echols
November 2, 1937 – April 24, 2026
Class of 1956! You all know Neal
He was voted wittiest in our class; the real deal
But, on the labor camp road is where he really rose to fame
Drag racers out there all knew his name.
Echol’s Buick Century was known well
All knew it ran like a bat-out-of-hell
But have y’all heard ‘bout Neal’s other tale
About him being locked up in a county jail?
It happened some years back, ten or so at tops
Neal & Ronnie Payton were to meet in Hobbs to play some slots
But driving there, Neal was challenged to a road race
And you know Neal, he won’t lose face.
Hey Ronnie! There in Hobbs having a ball.
Don’t hang up, for I’ve only got one call
Stop playing that slot, cause I need bail
Believe it or not, I’m in the Seminole jail!
No, it wasn’t Peggy Sue I passed on that hill;
Or Maybelline in her Coupe de-Ville.
It was a Gaines County deputy with his radar gun;
And believe you me, he wasn’t out there just for fun.
Said he clocked my corvette at a hundred and four
Disappointed me really, I thought I was doing a whole lot more.
They towed my car and put me in cuffs;
And, believe-you-me, that judge was tough!
Asked had I ever had a suicidal thought;
Told her no. your honor, except just now when I got caught.
Yeah, I’ll call Jan. Tell her I’ll now drive under 56;
But Ron, that’s just til I get my radar detector fixed.
Hey, Ronnie! you still playing that slot
Just leaving me here to rot?
Yeah Neal! I feel it’s fixin to hit;
So, I’m gonna stay here just a bit.
Well hurry up and hit that jackpot
My cellmates here are a real mean lot
One’s 6’4, a 300 pound guy
And he’s startin’ to give me the evil eye
Ronnie did drive back to Seminole and got Neal sprung
Both went right back to Hobbs and had their fun.
Jan never believed Neal’s promise to drive slower
She’s heard that line of his many times before
But after probation and a hefty fine
Neal did sell his corvette and tow the line.
Drives a Jeep now, thou not very fast
But, his radar detector is still there on his dash
For he may drive back to Hobbs yet again
and might run into his racing friend
But this time he’ll just drive slowly pass
and yell to him – you can kiss my ass!
Classmates, now you know what our Neal has done
how he got caught on his very last run
Now like all of us, he’s over the hill
With no more dragons yet to kill
Class of 56, to coin a phrase
May God bless us all in our remaining days
For some of us, this will be our last Jubilee
So, I’ll say farewell to y’all from my best friend Neal and me
Duane Whitlow, April 2025
Best Friends
Duane Neal
Lamesa, Dawson County, Texas
Just a lil’ O’ West Texas town where I spent my youth
Other than that, not much of a place, to tell the truth
It’s a shame, but……
Each year I see more boarded-up stores around your courthouse square
And more weeds in front of homes in need of repair
Tourist….?
They only know you as an aging gas station with a dirty commode
Just a brief stop for them so they can get back on the road
And to so many others…
You’re very well known for your fierce sandstorms
Not for your pumping oil wells and cotton farms
But it is very true that…
When the wind picks up and your red sand blows
Is why your school’s name is the Golden Tornados
But…
I see you in a whole different way
For you see, I was one of you back in the day
When…?
A teenager in the ‘50’s. That was the very best
And living in Lamesa then, I felt truly blessed
Why…?
Our Lamesa back then was a far different place
Vibrant and alive with a totally different face
Not a vacant store on the square could be found
All stores full of shoppers going round and around
But when all the stores closed for the week
It was time for us teenagers to claim the street
We rode around the square every Friday and Saturday night
Girls drove to the left, boys to the right
And when we wanted to stop and meet
We simply drove one block down to Wall Street
I remember places not there anymore
Like Collin’s and Baldwin’s Department Store
Jelly’s Barber Shop is where my hair got cut
And my family ate out a lot at The Green Hut
Farmer’s Bakery had the best donuts in the state
And about that time Turner’s Café invented the chicken fried steak
I remember Stogner’s where we boys played pool
We weren’t good, but sure thought we were cool
And the Sky Vue Drive-In was where I first became a man
For it was there I finally held my girlfriend’s hand
On Saturday we all went to the Majestic for their western show
Saw a Shoot-Em-Up, serial and cartoon, all for not much dough
Our heroes were Johnnie Mac Brown, Whip Wilson and Lash Larue,
Occasionally we saw Roy Rogers and Gene Autry too
On Sunday’s we kids were all at the Palace a block down the street
The new Hollywood color films there were pretty neat
For just 12 cents we could attend the show and see a color cartoon
Our parents loved it too – they were rid of us kids all afternoon
Lamesa, thank goodness…
I’ve got these good old memories of you in my mind
And I’ll enjoy them all til the end of my time
But when I’m gone, they will be too
One less person who remembers the good old you
Written by: Duane Whitlow, Aug/Sept 2026
Class of 1956