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  1. Welcome to my poetry world …

    July 21, 2011 by pookie22

    Hi, my name is Lucinda Sue Crosby. I am an award-winning journalist and environmentalist as well as a published and recorded Nashville songwriter. I have also been a film and television actor and was a professional athlete who worked as a sports commentator for the Women’s Tennis Association via InDemand Pay-Per-View.

    I have always had a love affair with the written word and writing is what I enjoy most, so I am especially thrilled to have just penned my first novel,

    “Francesca of Lost Nation

    In addition, I’ve also created a music and poetry blog. Please enjoy the work and visit often as we continue to update our sites.

    “Official Website”



  2. My Hero – for my Godfather Roy Rogers

    July 21, 2011 by pookie22

    Through the sagebrush

    Tumbleweeds carom in the wind

    Like lost souls.

    A coyote’s lonely howl

    Echoes down rocky canyon walls

    In harmony with the mourning dove.

    Into this American landscape

    Rides a fair man on a golden horse.

    The sunrise

    Carries the song of his soul

    Like a joyful noise.

    The Idea of the West

    Lives in the heroic block of his Stetson.

    And the faith and trust

    Of children everywhere

    Rest on his shoulders light as air.

    It was a deal he made with himself.

    The King of the Cowboys …

    Just a man

    With a good heart

    Who rode into the sunset.



    For my Godfather

    Roy Rogers

    with much love

    C CINDA 1989

    Read about my mom, former RKO actress, Linda Hayes, and Roy Rogers on the set. Also, find out about my novel, “Francesca of Lost Nation,” and its companion song, “Stories They Could Tell.”


    Roy Rogers

    Linda Hayes


  3. The Heart of a Man

    July 21, 2011 by pookie22

    In 1995, some of Arnold Palmer’s closest California friends commissioned me, a songwriter under the name “CINDA”, to write a poem about the life of The King. In Arnie’s Army, these folks were Generals! Everyone shared memories, news clippings, memorabilia, photos, magazine articles, etc.and all was done clandestinely so that the presentation could be a toltal surprise.

    We succeeded.

    In December of 1995, at PGA West, I recited/performed the poem for Arnie and his dear friend Ed at a private party. The piece had been rendered onto a “monument” – etched in gold, along with his bust, onto a black granite shadow box. I believe this memento now hangs on the stone wall at Bay Hill.

    Everyone shed a tear or two – even the great man himself. It was one of my proudest and most cherished accomplishments.



  4. Little White Ball – A poem for golf enthusiast

    July 21, 2011 by pookie22

    Sitting still and pristine on the tee

    (with “defy” at the core of its bind)

    it’s a simple inanimate object

    that embodies the angst of your mind.


    Its logos are costly disguises ‑

    Which is why you pay dear for a sleeve.

    And devil? Or angel?  You’ll just never know

    till after your club face it leaves.

    Just think of the shots you’ve let fly …

    first you yell, maybe swear, then despair,

    because deaf to your cursing entreaties,

    The Little White Ball don’t play fair.


    Oh, sometimes it lands in the short grass

    where it can be happily found.

    But mostly it lands where it loves to:

    into ponds; behind trees; out of bounds.

    Silly you … you think you are the master?

    That you are the one in control?

    Then why did your drive hit the cart barn

    and your chip hit a telephone pole?


    By now I think you get the lesson

    and it’s one you can take to the bank …

    you must be kind to The Little White Ball

    to side‑step the skull and the shank.

    Your handicap may be eleven.

    Your handicap may be your head.


    Or maybe it rests in the knee‑knocking tests

    of those simple three footers instead …

    Oh hell, go spend years on the range (!)

    perfecting each least little thing …

    Teach your hands to release just as easy as pie

    like the ultimate Ernie Els swing.


    You could mimic Tiger’s great skill and heart

    or the genius of Arnie and Jack;

    you can pray for the touch of Se Ri Pak’s hands

    or Annika’s focus on track.


    Buy a new set of clubs every weekend!

    Spend your money and time with some pro.

    Go ahead! (It’s all futile and pointless)

    cause here’s everything you need to know:

    Golf’s a witchcraft belonging to wizards

    and a hell mastered only by saints.


    It’s a rainbow plus quicksand plus terror

    whose secrets are learned through your pain.

    So the moral of this little ditty?


    Well … whatever your game’s rise and fall …

    first you MUST make nice with the Golf Gods,

    then make peace with The Little White Ball.


    C  CINDA   2003

  5. Babe the Wonder Dog

    April 25, 2010 by pookie22

    This was my dog Babe, I dressed her up as an Angel for Halloween.

    If only they could live forever on earth …

    Unfortunately, our dogs die. For me, the loss of my dog Babe was devastating. I have a little Terrior now that I rescued from a shelter and love her, but it isn’t the same bond I had with “Babe the Wonder Dog,” who I still miss deeply.
    However, I do believe Heaven is the place where all pets you’ve ever loved and all the pets that have ever loved you come to greet you. Their job is to lead you across the “Rainbow Bridge” into paradise.


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