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Cowboy Forgiveness Poems | Cowboy Poems About Forgiveness

These Cowboy Forgiveness poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Forgiveness. These are the best examples of Cowboy Forgiveness poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Kwansaba | |

Shiny Minded Stone

"What's your story?"
she questions,
"you seem interesting."

wildflower eyes
I reply, "NOW."                                                                    (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really, 

often people become confused                                                    
by such a unique response                                                            
not this one...                                                                                
she's a beauty                                                                       
shiny minded stone                                                                  
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone

tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above

she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores

malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks

gold flows throughout waves 
streaming locks
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed 
by her entice

hands free of envy
no webs to spin
hips unmolested
thighs slick

be warned
she will divide you
no voodoo 
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you

the girl
baby of zero maybes
she knows

as clarity lent us its giant umbrella 
her lipstick smacked my tongue 
from there
we never looked back


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Cowboy | |

' As Old As East Of Eden ... (A Cowboy Song) Cowboy Poem # 15

          Tears - Are As Old
         … As East Of Eden

           Pain - Is As Old
         … As East Of Eden

          Woes - Are As Old
         … As East Of Eden …

That’s Why The Cowboy … Rides West
And Disappears, Into The Flaming Sunsets …     ( Gen. 3: 23, 24 )

Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | Lyric | |

-------------------------The Soul I Sold------------

If I seem down forgive me Frowns I carry around live in me When I break you see right through me GIVE BACK THE SOUL I SOLD... The hurt I’ve learned brews in me GIVE BACK THE SOUL I SOLD... Your words so true renew me If only you'd re-design me Take time rewind refine me Recreate the mold without lies I’ve told... GIVE BACK THE SOUL I SOLD... The hurt I’ve learned brews in me GIVE BACK THE SOUL I SOLD....

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Cowboy | |


Tainted love 
or tired love?
Smug attitudes
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!


Details | Free verse | |

Passion And Shame Torment Him

otra vez,otra vez` I do, say and say again I am the rock star of the ring I risk my life again and again for fame, Some might think of my passion As just being poetic and practical Or simply culture or unethical However, nevertheless not when my life is on the line Stronger than a herd of Buffaloes Faster than the Speed of a race horse, He is now broken free of his corral A streak of fury, rushes me Despite my fear of dying, My main focus is to Take the bull down by its horn >> I looked deep into his eyes, I saw mingling of rage I carefully swung the cape, A taunt of furling red Aiming for its horns The crowd roars, while The old ladies sob for the bull The men cheers for Salvatore the Matador Nothing more stimulating than the ladies with the beautiful smiles The bull is going to die

Copyright © Annie Lander

Details | I do not know? | |



Screaming silently for that one breath

of life...

that whirling maelstrom of beaten-down loss upon wrap-around defeat

of life...

that mercilessly shovels heaps of leaden rubble as you try to get back on your feet


mute and dumbly flailing in the raging torrent

of being...

but a mere speck of dirt on the tapestry of a world, that at times, is quite abhorrent


quietly wishing to surrender to the nothingness that seductively beckons, as you gasp


hoping against all hope that a lifeline would appear suddenly within your grasp


yet caught in the ghastly waters of unchartered isolation


a trickle of hope amidst the gushing liquid of sheer desolation


whilst holding on to slivers of sanity when blistering madness calls out to you


faltering weaknesses snap and gnaw at your state of being, out of the pristine clear blue


i have felt the pull of life's devious current as it has stripped me of my self and left me naked and bare

and still...

i fight with every suffocating breath left within

to surface and to cling onto

another gulp of life's coarse and putrid air...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Alliteration | |


I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food, 
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room 
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz

Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free

If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable

Copyright © tomiwa simon

Details | Free verse | |

The saga of the dusty road

The Saga of dusty roads of Utah 
(To the memory of Don W. Esplin, father of Kathryn Esplin-Oleski)
= =
There he was playing with some mild explosives, 
in his own backyard, a resolute boy he is; 
the June month had swelled like the taut belly of 
a neighborhood lady; the boy wanted to be 
a scientist which he became. He, of course could not 
envision that all these sepia dust of Utah, 
the noon backyard and a young scientist’s narrative 
would be remembered by his explosive daughter 
and a strange Indian was going to pen a saga. 

Alfred Nobel was smiling from a page of a book 

The boy rolled a cigarette, the smoke’s curlicues 
swirl up to grain the picture. A blast almost choked
the bright blue jays and robins. Defused sun slanted.
The end of the road was just an end of the road 
where sun could meet earth, warm grass shook off the heat 
and the covert window of the farm house would yield 
a father and son talk. Strong argument on
future, on an university, on money 
on a world that could differ in generations;
of course the boy, as a father, understood 
his girl, then living apart. But distance is in heart.
He would grow up midst dreams. A quirky wind would blow him 
here and there; navy, marriage and science, 
pharmacology and marriage again; a gust
of wind would take him on a ride that, if he could 
read this he would have said, resembled his truck rides 
down the roads of Utah. But at that point of time
he was wide awake inside his misty night’s sleep 
and an American novel is shooting up 
its multiple heads in search of fresh oxygen. 
The waves of moon were enjoying a full tide.

=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

Copyright © Kushal Poddar

Details | Rhyme | |

We Are Nothing WITHOUT Christ

Without Christ... We Are Nothing! You think you have everything... "Don't need" anything more. God says; "You are wretched, blind, miserable and poor." Are you content? There's nothing "you don't need?" Is your life filled with self-righteousness and greed? Jesus stands at your heart's door... Waiting to come in. But is the "uninvited guest," once again. Do you have a form of Godliness, but deny the power thereof? Proclaiming to be a Christ' follower, but void of his love? Are you committed to a fancy building and bright chandeliers? For the lost souls... Do you shed any tears? It's time to fall in love with Jesus and his precious word too. He's here right now... Waiting for you! Only you can make the right choice. It's your decision. You're spiritual life will die... If serving Jesus is not your mission... By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Ballade | |

Blood - Brothers

I Hear Drum-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
All Our Homes Are Handed Down by The Highest Spirit
Long-Ago, The Native Peoples of The Land
Knew… The Earth and Us – Go Hand in Hand

I Hear Hoof-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
Its Not The Buffalo or Antelope – Who Grew To Fear It
Its Battles of Braves and Soldiers – Both Grim Reapers
Can’t Forget… We ‘Are’ Our Brother’s Keeper…

         Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood-Bound To Love
         Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
      … Blood – Brothers

I Heard Hate – Beat Down The Land… Did You Hear It?
Pollution and Persecution… Its Time To Cure It
End Our Journey On The Trail of Tears
With Broken Arrows and Rivers – Running Clear

I Hear Heartbeats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
If You Turn and Face The Wind… You Are Near It
It Pounds Deeper Than The Skin, Or A Flood
It Echoes To All …  Its In Our Blood !

        Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood – Bound To Love
        Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters Of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
      … Blood – Brothers

              * * * * *
The Eagle Flies On The Breath Of Life
         And So Do You
May The Blue Sky And Your Clear Eye
         See Many More Moons

Keepers Of The Earth… Guard This Turf
        And Each Other
For Every Human Birth… Has Worth
         As A Blood – Brother

For Those Killed and Blood Spilled
         The Ground Cries
Soaks The Dust… And Curses Us
         When A Brother Dies…

          Blood – Brother …

Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | Free verse | |

A Visit to El Santuario de Chimayo, Northern New Mexico

A sense of the sacred
permeates these grounds
where El Santo Niño de Atocha walks

A sense of the truly holy
infuses the wind in the air,
the leaves in the wind
& that holy wind breathes itself into 
the traveler here in search
of a miracle

A soft and single
splash of water kisses your praying hands,
then sparkles down
into the healing, blesséd earth
that gives beneath your resting knees
and you realize
you are in the middle of a shining, gentle rain

Your heart and mind stretch heavenward 
and deep into your soul
as you continue your prayer,
kneeling, as you are,
on this holy, sacred land

Then a clean, clear drift
of shimmering, silent snow
brushes your face, your
heart, your mind and soul
with a singular grace and beauty

And you gaze dreamily up in wonder,
with strong and joyful tears
of truth and comprehension
baptizing your uplifted, enraptured face

 As you know, and as you feel
throughout your entire being,
that you are healed,
and ever, forever belovéd

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson

Details | ABC | |


most  people  like  holidays  and  some  dont  or  they  are  always  grumpy  on  
holidays.mostly  the  children like  holidays.lots  of  family's  spend  time  
together  and  have  lots  of  fun  on  holidays.

Copyright © doris lee

Details | Rhyme | |

Make Your Family FIRST

Make Your Family First! I know a person who had “a change of heart.” And very shortly his family “fell apart.” He was involved in doing “so many things.” He neglected the duty of what family brings! He became so involved in helping others… He neglected his wife and his kids’ mother! At first, he had the best of intentions… But failed to give his family any kind of attention! He was so busy, and away from home so much. It didn’t take long for him to be “out of touch.” Very soon he found his life “way off course…” And heading down the path of a divorce! He began to ask himself the question; “why?” As he began to hear all of his kids cry! Beyond all of the chaos and “chatter.” He decided that his family DOES matter! He quit doing many of the things he once did. And asked all of his family to please forgive! He’s now the kind of dad that he needs to be! And is with his family so faithfully! May this be a lesson and reminder to us all! How quickly we can get up. How quickly we can fall! May we put an effort into our family as number one! Every mom and dad! Daughter and son! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Lyric | |

Front Porch Stepp

I'm sitting on my front porch stepp
Me my brew my dog named Shepp
Watching all the lovely people driving by 

Some even stop just to talk to me
Others drive by thinking I don't see
Some on the phone just like they're at home
All of them so scared to be alone

I'm sitting on my front porch step
Me my brew my dog named Shepp
Watching all the lovely people driving by 

If I had my way I'd just 
Make them smile
Just to make them happy each, and every mile
Just to make their journey seem, worth their while

I'm sitting on my front porch step
Me my brew my dog named Shepp
Watching all the lovely people driving by 
People driving by

Copyright © peter lewis

Details | I do not know? | |

Wink, Nod and Sigh

She has felt a rope with a mustang attached,
Threw berries into a biscuit batch, 
The holes she’d patch in clothes and shoes
She loves her life and has paid her dues,
She has tallied and rallied, opened the gate, 
Chased and paced and could hardly wait,
For true love to come calling and fulfill her life,
Yet the blue of her falling and the dreams of a wife 
Would have to wait until there was more time in the day,
For her fate would not dawn on her or come her way
Until she gathered her emotions and set them aside, 
Till she lathered all horses she started to ride,
And found out that tough is not all that there is,
And what she’s done comes back on her the takes and the give.

She has gathered and sorted she’s worked dawn till dark,
She’s been lathered and courted, jerked drawn and embarked,
Into places with horses she never thought existed,
Keeping paces through courses that she has enlisted.
She has draped and dallied, taped and cursed,
Coped and prodded, roped and worse,
She has caught things she didn’t want to and tried to turn loose,
Been drug, whipped and burned, yet learned to cook goose.
She has folded, molded, tarried to long, 
Charmed harmed, and done things wrong,
Brought laughter where tears stain the face,
Taught love, soothed fears, she has attempted grace.
She has held many a child, colt and calf,
With the hands the size of mans only half,
And the calluses that line them may dull the feel,
Yet her heart it binds them to a mother so real.

She has procrastinated, assassinated, tallied and stewed,
Migrated almost been abominated, is liberated and has brewed 
Over family, friends, dinner and such, 
All she has, all she wants which isn’t that much.
She has cursed God, loves the bible and believes in Amen.
If she had her druthers she’d do it over again,
And the source of remorse behind her eyes,
With all her give up and failures that she tries to disguise,
Only haunts the face that in the mirror lies.
Wink, Nod and Sigh 
A.K. Moss

It taunts a trace in the lines of grace and gives her knowledge she can now recognize.

Then that moment is gone, she fixes her hair, with a hum of a song 
that gently tickles the air,
The wind in her wake is the after math for she has learned to walk another path
To keep her life whole , that is imbedded deep within her soul.
And with a wink, nod and sigh, 
She boldly walks by.

Copyright © A. Kathy Moss

Details | Cowboy | |

As I Close My Eyes

As I Close My Eyes
It’s you I see
with the other woman
I don't understand
why you left me standing alone
I just want you near

As I Close My Eyes
Im hoping you would 
be standing here by my side 
Living life isn't perfect
We all make mistakes
Im here to tell you
I'll do whatever it takes
for you to be in my heart
once again

As I Close My Eyes
 It’s you I only want to share my life with
I want to be your wife
We were up for so many years
Yes, since you left I shed a couple of tears
So tell me why we have to end like this
You are the only one I'll miss

Copyright © Deneshia Bryant

Details | Cowboy | |


I knew his face from a poster, 
That said he was wanted by the law, 
It had little affect on me, 
For I went by what I saw. 

Two eyes of blue looked up at me, 
So thin they looked like steel, 
And a moustache so thick and bushy, 
I wasn't sure if it was real. 

Out on the plains of Kansas, 
It is a hard and fast rule, 
That to take in and hide a wanted man, 
Are the actions of a fool. 

But I'm not known for  my reason, 
Common sense is my only art, 
And it told me I was safe, 
Go on and follow my heart. 

I took him to the old dugout, 
Beside little creek, 
Tended to his bullet wounds, 
Nursed him while he was weak. 

And I kept him there...a secret, 
Made him strong and well, 
An listened to the stories, 
That he began to tell... 

Of his life as a farmer, 
Becoming a raider after the war, 
He'd had a good reason once, 
But couldn't remember "why" anymore. 

When he tried to walk away, 
The band refused to let him go, 
They shot him and left him to die, 
Where I found him in the cold. 

I considered the sins of this man, 
Waged them against my own, 
Knew that for the right reasons, 
My life would have taken a different tone. 

And I knew there was no judging, 
His past actions, or mine, 
For his taking life, and my saving his, 
Were both considered a crime. 

So I hid him, and I'm not sorry, 
For a time he was my own, 
He told me once he loved me, 
I was the closest he had to a home. 

I procured a horse and a rifle, 
Once he was mended enough to ride, 
And politely refused his offer, 
To join him by his side. 

My last glimpse was the back of his hat, 
As he dropped into the draw, 
And I knew I'd not been wrong, 
About the things I saw. 

Deep inside those steel-blue eyes, 
Lay a soul that had changed it's ways, 
And his punishment would be in running, 
Wanted...for the rest of his days. 

And me, I'm still not repentant, 
I'd do it all over again, 
For sometimes Outlaws ain't evil, 
Sometimes they're just men, 

Who started out with good intentions, 
And no matter what they may be, 
The final call to judgement, 
Won't come from you or me. 

Because all of us are sinners, 
By bad luck or circumstance, 
And the only way out is common sense, 
Prayer and a second chance. 

So, pray with me for the Outlaw, 
Cheer him on in his second try, 
And start your prayer with the words, 
"But for the Grace of God, there go I..." 

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Cowboy | |

That Old Heartpine Gate

So cinch tight my shimmering dark sorrel
With fine hand-tooled saddle of silver inlay—
I’ll pull on my calfskin chaparajos
And through that old heartpine gate I’ll ride away.

I’ve been too long on this sagebrush prairie.
Through many a rancho gate welcome and not—
With some I stayed and herded and prospered,
While with some I gave up much more than I got.

But I’ve rode toward that last gate in my life
And next that rosadero I’ll sit for awhile—
Until that bright entryway swings open
And I ride in meek and accepting as a child.

So cinch tight my shimmering dark sorrel
With fine hand-tooled saddle of silver inlay—
I’ll pull on my calfskin chaparajos
And through that old heartpine gate I’ll ride away.

Copyright © Glen Enloe

Details | Cowboy | |

Old Rance Buckley's Trophy Buckle

He always wore that rodeo buckle made of silver and gold,
Every day of his life from when he was young till he grew old.
It said he was bucking horse champion of nineteen fifty-three,
And he told all the cowboys he had been the best that could be.

But then one day a stranger comes to town ‘bout as old as old Rance,
Who listened to his stories in silence and then eyed him askance.
He asked old Rance some questions ‘bout his times in rodeo—
Like horses he rode; cowpokes he knew and things he should know.

Then old Rance got defensive and asked just who was this cowboy gent
That asked him all these funny questions ‘bout days so long ago spent.
“Why,” drawled the old cowpoke, “I spent time here in fifty-three or two,
Ridin’ in rodeos you mentioned, but I don’t remember you.”

“And I don’t seem ta recollect you,” old Rance said and eyed the poke.
“Name’s McCall,” the stranger said, “and I ran that rodeo, no joke.”
Well, old Rance’s face fell and he knew his jig was up at long last—
Trying to pass that buckle off as his own, in one long last gasp.

He’d won that trophy buckle at cards from a cowboy on his last legs—
Why he started calling it his own, I reckon the question begs.
Now the other cowpokes gathered ‘round with wonder in their clear eyes
At why old Rance had shot the bull for years and told them all those lies.

Then a strange thing happened, as McCall realized just what he had done,
“Wait a minute, fella,” he said, “weren’t you the kid nicknamed ‘Young Gun?’”
And though he never had such a name, old Rance just nodded and grinned.
“I remember you now, you were the best – you rode just like the wind!”

Old Rance and McCall became pards, though Rance toned his bragging down,
But when new rodeos started, all the young cowboys gathered ‘round.
Then right before old Rance passed on, he gave that buckle to McCall
And told him he weren’t good at cards, that buckle was his after all.   

Copyright © Glen Enloe