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Cowboy Uplifting Poems | Cowboy Poems About Uplifting

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

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Details | Light Poetry | |

Pie Eyed Spittoon

Out of the west, amide a beautiful sunrise… came a pie eyed son of a gun.
Looking for Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster… water gun… in hand.
He rode a very slow plug, an inchworm called ‘Giddy-Up-You-Lazy-Thing’.
Said he was seeking, Billy the outlaw, who had shot his brother in the leg.

But we all knew Billy hadn’t done it, cause he simply, shook his… head… no…
Sure he’d shot a few snakes in the grass, in the range war, way up North, long ago.
But he’d known everybody there; this one, was only here, to try to build a name.
Pie Eyed Spittoon the Rodeo Clown, was looking to earn some respect, with fame.

Now, you don’t find respect by drawing a water gun; it’s always a loosing game.
So we told him, Billy had moseyed on, somewhere way down south, late last May.
To our surprise, he sat down and cried; there was only so much he could take, to face.
Apparently, guy ladybugs don’t get much respect, especially in a fancy, rodeo place.

At that, Miss Kitty Purrfect, sashayed into place, right in front of Pie Eyed Spittoon.
She ask him what his real name was… He answered, it was Wilber Wash Number Two.
Taking him by the hand, she deftly led him off, giving him ideas for a great bar room.
A fancy pants Troll Lake Town sarsaparilla saloon, where flowers would be in bloom.

They would even serve High Tea with scones and crumpets, of course, in a back room.
But, there'd be a tin pan ally, piano in great use, in that bar area, up front, real soon.
Miss Kitty Purrfect would sit on top to sing a tune or two, as Mr. Spittoon kept the bar.
She would be his partner, to help liven up the crowd, and keep them from straying far. 

The Muskrat Gang could clean up in their spare time when their other work was done.
Silk worms would be ordered from China Town, to make fancy drapes, in the bargain.
And Spittoon could serve Sarsaparilla, as Billy controlled the, sometimes-rowdy crowd.
All got what they’d wanted, without a single shot being fired, smart, don’t you think?

Troll Lake town was growing, at a rapid rate, but all were sure, it would be OK.
Armadilly Billy the Slingshot Kidster, was voted, as the sheriff in Town, that day.
And with Miss Kitty Purrfect by Billy’s side, a new era had definitely, begun in town.
Not to mention Mr. Spittoon, who enjoyed the respect, as barman, in our boomtown.

The moral my friend… is violence never wins… always use your head instead!
Making friends, will always serve you better, than making enemy’s… it’s often said!

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless

Details | Rhyme | |

My Rodeo Cowboy

papa said 
son what you going to do 
with your life

now that you have 
no money job 
or wife

he said papa
I'm going to 
leave this town

think I'll
join up with the rodeo 
and break them bulls down 

Maybe even rope
me a stallion or
even a clown

Son you better
take another 
look around

for theres no money
for bull riders
thrown to the ground

or being stepped on
by a horse or bull
weighing over eight hundred pounds

Papa I promise 
Ill make you proud
of your rodeo cowboy when I'm done

And promise 
not to be thrown or bucked off
to the ground

So papa please come
visit when our show's
in town

for I'll be 
the one riding high on 
the biggest bull that's found

hanging on for just 
eight seconds while I'm
listening for that bells sound

just kicking those sides
of horses and bulls
jumping up and down

with coming out your
top rodeo champion and
bull rider found

Tribute To
The Rodeo Cowboys 
and Cowgirls

Hang Tough

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |

The Cowboy Way

Watch those buckaroos lose their insides when saddled to a wild one untied it’s fer a sight when they ride . Yiddy –up was the wail when a bull of a devil left his trail some kinda fight on the road to hell.
No wonder I headed for Whiskey Row with some forty drinks down below sure is thunder in your hole will rock your soul as you face the mighty cold.
Strums my guitar and softly singing as the cowboys are around the camp fire ringing as the fire is blazinin another day is hazing. Got the notion for prayin as another cowboy was payin and he was sayin
Lord ya know the deeds I’ve done and in the shadows I have hung I just wanted  to be thankful for meeting me on this fateful day and in  thy range I will forever stay.
Vanita Allgood	

Copyright © Vanita Allgood

Details | Cowboy | |

The Farmer and The Cowboy / Deuteronomy 11:13

The Farmer woke, 
Before break of day, 
And for a little rain did pray. 
Then hitched his team, 
And plowed the land, 
Given him by the Master’s hand. 
The Cowboy awoke, 
And a prayer he sighed, 
“Please give us rain, for the prairie is dry.” 
Then in the heat, 
He did rope and brand, 
The cattle given him by the Master’s hand. 
At night, before sleep, 
The Farmer read, 
The words from the Bible that God had said, 
“If you’ll keep my Commandments, 
In it’s season I’ll make it rain, 
And you shall eat, 
And your land shall fill with grain.” 
The Cowboy fell asleep remembering, 
A verse his Ma had read, 
A promise God made and the words he said, 
“Love and serve the Lord God, 
And it shall come to pass, 
That I shall make it rain, 
And for the cattle, there shall be grass.” 
So each resolved, in his own way, 
To be a better man, 
And follow closely the Commandments, 
And there-fore save the land. 
And though they never met, 
They prayed for the same thing, 
And watched the sky for the clouds, 
And the rain that they would bring. 
And though it was long in coming, 
The drops fell upon the land, 
And revived and refreshed these special places, 
Given by the Master’s hand. 
The Farmer and the Cowboy, 
Each prayed for the land of which they were fond, 
And through their belief, they saved the Earth, 
Through the Lord’s Common Bond.

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Tanka | |

What A Beauty

<                                    beneath swollen ..... moon
                                      in pasture of...... rolling hills
                                      standing  ....hind quarters
                                      a beautiful black ...... stallion
                                      simply took my breath ........ away

Entry For
Rick Parise's 
A Memory Of Beauty
Tanka Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Lyric | |

Please Help Me, Re-lyric

Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.
You're just so damn sexy,
That's why I'm hittin' on you.
You don't have to love me,
Some good sex will do.
Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.

Yes, you turned me on
When I saw you walk in...
The face of an Angel,
A body just made for Sin.
Now, I may be real horny,
But one thing is true:
What would satisfy me, Girl
Would be to satisfy You.

So please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You; 
And I hope that you're fallin'
In Lust with me too;
But if not, then please fake it,
Please don't leave me "blue"...
Please help me, I've fallen
In  Lust  with  You.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |


The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.

21 February 2013

Copyright © Smail Poems

Details | Carpe Diem | |


Your  love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of 
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and  i'm 
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those 
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and 
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried 
by the dove of someone I use to know.

Copyright © Sam Ruby

Details | Limerick | |

Trader Joe

<                           once there was a man named trader Joe
                             could do nothing with hair so let grow
                             under big coonskin hat
                             fleas tick and his pet rat
                             mercantile's just say Oh Hell No

                            once there was saloon name lucky spur
                            where traders brought in their hunted furs
                            in walks old trader Joe
                            miss Molly said let's go
                            now both itch scratch from leftover burrs

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Couplet | |

Fastest Gun In The West

<                                      Now hold on there Tex !
                                        Let me get     dressed  !

                                        Let me saddle up my horse
                                        To trollop around this Halloween course

                                        Got on my chaps
                                        My spurs and cowboy hat

                                       Replica's of forty five's
                                       Riding on my hips very high

                                       With lasso in my hand
                                       This little cowboy has a plan

                                      So all you ghost and goblins
                                      It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing

                                      And I'll be taking  loot for mummy
                                      And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy

                                                  Happy Halloween To All
                                   Especially little tikes who are so cute and small

Entry For 
Halloween Costume Contest
G.L. All




Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Cowboy | |

Huevos Rancheros Sung to the Tune of Guantanamera

Chorizo con huevos,
Tortillas, frijoles y papas.

Chorizo con huevos,
Tortillas, frijoles y papas.

Chile verde, Yo quiero,
Dame filete de pescado.

Huevos rancheros,
Carnitas, huevos rancheros.
Huevos rancherrrrrros!
Carnitas, huevos rancheros.

Copyright © Tony McCann

Details | Cowboy | |

A New Year Cowboy Toast

May your cattle drives be short ones,
May worries be small and far—
May you find peace at life’s railhead
And at long last rope your star.  

Copyright © Glen Enloe

Details | Verse | |

How The West Was Won

<                         O ye how the west has gone won
                           now wipe those trails of tears my son
                           dance the ring of fire for fun
                           speak and learn native ways
                           learn not to speak with riffles gun
                           rustle bacon beans  Hey !

Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11

Entry For Dr Ram's 
Rime Couee's Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Limerick | |

Let's Duke It Out

<                   Once came along an man named John Wayne
                     Winchester by his side causes more pain                           
                     Dusty trails ballroom brawls
                     Battlefield's muddy crawls
                     The duke of western inflicting gains

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Didactic | |

Blind By Mod

Modernisation is hopping her repercussion
 Modernisation is driving her civilisation
 This is the safari; that brain the colony
 The colossal obnoxious tenets of the West
 Calling her to the deluding evacuation.

 The edifice her architect had strictly structured
 Who can dare to alter it?
 Even on her own body and soul.

 Variety upon variety, she want to put on
 That is her whisper why, she mime the day.
 A Bimbo! Mimicking the mockery of the West.

 Who is barbaric in this case?
 Reason! She revolt the reasoning
 Focus! She resist the purpose
 Loyal! She refuse the modesty.

 Let her believe this one
 That in her friction state
 Her forward (will) never; her backward (will) ever.

 Perhaps, she should recall this one
 She need to behold
 If she must to recount, in her world.

Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole

Details | Rhyme | |

Drippity drip drip

Take me there I don't care Touch my hair Eat this pear!!! I am bare Want to share? Do you care? I am bear I'll let you stare Don't go there By the chair Or on that stair? Your skin is fair You look like Cher Come to my lair But pay my fare Drippity drip drip

Copyright © Alexandra Caruso

Details | Cowboy | |


Do you want to live forever?
maybe you really do want to live forever!
Why do you want to live?
why do you want to write?
But first I ask you the same question, what do you want from life? 
To live?
The sorrow will pass, believe me, life is so unimportant
You must write like nobody ever before !

Copyright © Nigel Fox

Details | Cinquain | |

Ride Em Cowboy (Cinquain}

                                             hired ranch hand
                                     tends cattle on horseback
                                     ignores potential risk factors

      Tribute To The 
American Cowboys / Cowgirls
      Ride Em High

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Cowboy | |


     In the heat of July, 
While bringing in the hay, 
He gave her a baling wire ring, 
And this is what he had to say... 

     “Someday I’ll put a diamond, 
Here on your hand. 
A diamond pure and perfect, 
As sure as I’m your man. 

     But, you know, a diamond, 
It won’t ever shine, 
As long or as bright, 
As this love of yours and mine.” 

     So they saved for her diamond,  
By putting little bits away, 
Money for the diamond, 
He would buy for her one day. 

     But the money for her diamond, 
Fixed the tractor and bought a plow, 
And in the dead of winter, 
Paid the vet. bill for the cow. 

     The money for her diamond, 
Put the water to the barn, 
And paid the increased taxes, 
The county levied on the farm. 

     The money for her diamond, 
Paid the doctor in town, 
And when their daughters were all grown, 
It bought the wedding gowns. 

      It paid for the new roof, 
When the big wind came through. 
Then it it paid off the mortgage, 
Before it was due. 

     The money for her diamond, 
Was always well spent, 
She never even asked him, 
Just where the money went. 

     The money for her diamond, 
Helped them to survive, 
The money for her diamond, 
Kept their hopes and dreams alive. 

    Today it’s been sixty-three years, 
And the diamond is on her hand. 
But, as usual, in her pocket, 
Lies her original wedding band. 

     A twist of baling wire,  
Bent and covered up in rust, 
A symbol of the greatest of loves, 
His Promise and Her Trust. 

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Free verse | |


A dusty old town-so quiet
a man, a traveler
takes off his pack-so heavy
and reclines for a rest.

they dont know his name, they never do
they wont even bother to ask
he troubles them-his mysterious past
leads them to prejudiced views

but were one to ask, for if naught but a name
what would this traveler say- would he speak?
a word, no. a name, he would give them and pass
"Im Wanderer, the world is my street."

Wanderer-what a name
does it signify much of his life
or is it a code- a cypher?
an enigma to his past.

Copyright © Hannah Stiles-Culver

Details | Haiku | |

Slow Poke

not even herdsmen
can gather all the pokee's
at the dinner bell

Copyright © Katherine Stella

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 | Cowboy | |

'The Cowboy On The Battlefield ... ' (Cowboy Poem # 12)

Young Cowboy On The Battlefield
Remembered His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
Her Voice Echoed, As He Heard …

Rapid-Fire and Revolution
Missiles, Right and Left
Bomb-Blasts and Confusion
… and Silent Tears, He’s Wept

… Every Day, A Minefield
Every Night, A Raid
Every Moment, A Terror
Trying to Make Him Afraid …

Any Second, A Horror
Of A Buddy, Laid To Rest
Every New Tomorrow
Wondering, What’s Next ?

The Cowboy On The Battlefield
Vigilant and Brave
Stood Ramrod Tall and Terse …
Looking At Her Grave …

‘Just Make It Home, Son … ‘
… Echoed Thru His Brain
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
… Echoed Thru The Rain

And Just Before She Was Laid To Rest
She Said, ‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
And With Those Last Words, She Blessed,
And Said, ‘I’ll Be Waiting, When You Come …’

                    * * * *

… Old Cowboy, On The Battlefield
Remembers His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son … 
… and We’ll Celebrate Our Return …

Of  Note:  In The Words Of A Lady Rocker,
Pat Benatar:   ‘Love Is A Battlefield’
(but I Say, 'Life Is A Battlefield'

Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | Free verse | |

The Stallion

A horse walked in the ring, 
Alone but bold,
A man hollered to move him around,
His tail held high and his neck bowed,
He snorted and bucked in defiance.
The epitome of a spirited beast, 
He looked every bit a stallion.
No one bid,
But save on gal,
A tiny thing who most thought a fool,
At least on that day.
But as time went on, 
That horses spirit never caved.
But the girl was patient, 
And kind,
After a long time that horses will bent,
He was defiant and spirited still,
No mistaking the Stallion he was,
But save for one small girl, 
to whom he gave his heart to.
And day after day,
He willingly rode with her,
Over mountain and field, 
After cow and game.
He loved her you see-and she loved him.
And after a time, 
she went back to that auction ring, 
And with her was that Wild beast
Wild still or so it seemed, 
As he snorted and bucked freely.
But no worries-he wasn't for sale.
He was to be a father this year,
He'd earned the right,
And when she stepped in that ring, 
No defiance was seen.
As he bowed his head and silently gave to her,
Their will seemed unified.
She flowed upon his back, 
And he stopped spun and slid
Like an invisible hand guided him,
No movement of the crowd was seen.
It was true beauty in motion,
A Girl and her horse- One
Suddenly they all wished they'd seen what she'd seen,
Not a horse to be broken,
But a spirit to be fixed.
A partner she saw,
Not something to be controlled.
All crave this with their horses,
Dogs and loved ones too,
But rarely can it be found,
Too busy trying to break them, 
We fail to join them.

Copyright © samantha jepson

Details | Cowboy | |

When a Cowboy Talks to God

Lord, you know that I’m one small seed
Blown across the fields of this world—
You could lose me in a moment
By the power you have unfurled.

But when I need to talk to you,
I know you’ll hear me and stand mute—
Then bless me with your vast knowledge
In green valley or lonely butte.

Yes, I’ve strayed down many wrong paths,
And it’s all my own fault, of course—
But now I just ask your blessing
When I’m too frail to ride my horse.
And though it seems I ask often,
It is not always just for me—
I can only gain forgiveness
In the eyes of eternity.

Lift me to your silver saddle
And we’ll ride that ivory cloud—
As I dally the light’s wisdom,
And make the big trail boss real proud.

Copyright © Glen Enloe

Details | Ballad | |

Texas Stars

Under the Texas stars,
far away from the cars...
I see them twinkling so bright.

I thought about You and I,
what we said that night...
as I held you tight.

You told Me, You'd be true,
I said I'd never leave You...
under those bright Texas stars.

We are in love,
I'm your man...
and you're my little dove.

I thought about You today,
while making hay...
and know we'll be O.K.

Think I'll see You tonight,
and hold You tight...
under these bright Texas stars.

So I pull on my boots and hat,
can't wait til we chat...
gettin' slick for my gal.

You look like an angel,
dancing the two step...
till the music fades under those Texas stars.
                                                                                  By Perri Voge  Texan Cowboy 2007

Copyright © Perri Voge

Details | Cowboy | |


   Ponytails and blue jeans 
Sat at Papaw's knee, 
Watching as he whittled 
On old branches from a tree. 
    And while he talked of cowboys 
And big old Texas ranches, 
He trimmed away the rough spots, 
While I dreamed of pony dances. 

     A wild stick horse remuda 
Began to run and play,
With every loving stroke,  
As he peeled the bark away.
     Using his "Old Timer"  
And carving in my brand, 
The best that he could find
And cut and shape with his own hand. 

     Now, each one of them was special,
And I felt I was too, 
As they kicked up dust behind 
This cowgirl buckaroo. 
     With reins of pink hair ribbon, 
Shoe strings and baling twine, 
There was "Buckin' Birch" and "Oakie," 
And "Ole Sticky" made of pine, 

     "Sassafras," and "Blackjack," 
"Willow," "Blaze," and "Scat," 
I never did corral 'em -- 
I just left 'em where they sat. 
     But next mornin', on the front porch, 
'stead of roamin' wild and free, 
They'd found their hitchin' rail, 
‘cause Papaw lined 'em up for me. 
     Along our trails together 
There were many lessons learned, 
Like bein' a cowboy through and through 
Is something that you earn 
     We'd partner up together, 
And team up in cahoots,
Once he defied my Mama,
Bought me red cowboy boots. 

     And often, when I wondered 
What to do on down the road, 
He'd always tell me, "little girl, 
When you get there you will know," 
     Sometimes you have to let things go, 
Sometimes you stand and fight, 
And anything worth doin', 
Is still worth doin' right. 

     With my wild stick horse remuda, 
We rode the range for miles, 
I knew I'd won my Papaw's heart 
By the way he'd laugh and smile, 
     I still have his sweat-stained Stetson, 
His boots, and his old knife, 
Sometimes I take them out 
Just to measure up my life. 
     And hold him closer to my heart, 
And know I have to try, 
To live up to the honor 
Of the wonder-days gone by. 
     On my stick horse remuda,
I learned the cowboy way, 
I’d give up everything I own 
To ride with him today. 

    My wild stick horse remuda 
Was quite the varied band, 
Born and bred with me in mind 
And trained by his own hand. 
     I’m longing for the legends, 
And the way we used to roam, 
With my wild stick horse remuda, 
And the man that we called "Home." 

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Narrative | |

A Blessing In The Heat (Part I)

It was 105 degrees that Texas day, and in the asphalt parking lot where we were performing it seemed like 150. But I was glad to be there. I had been invited to perform at a Cowboy Gathering in Weatherford, Texas and I had come there for one reason only...because Larry McWhorter was supposed to be there performing too. I had his tape at home and I was a huge fan of his work. After my set, I was approached by a lady who introduced herself as Andrea. She told me how much she liked my work and that she wanted me to come sit with her in the audience because her husband wanted to meet me and that he had a surprise for me.

We sat down in front of the stage and they introduced Larry McWhorter. I was thrilled that I was going to get to see him in person. His works stands high among the true greats of Cowboy Poetry and I identify with him because he is the "Real Deal," just like the men I grew up among. As I sat there Larry spoke to the audience. He told them that he had enjoyed my poem "Mustangs." I was thrilled! Larry McWhorter was talking about my work! He went on to say how he had worked in the part of Oklahoma I am from and that he had a particular poem about that area, that he was going to do it now and that he was dedicating it to me, the only Oklahoman performing there. He then recited Johnny Clare.

Of all the poems in the world, this is my number one favorite. I have stood at the grave of Johnny Clare. I have heard the stories about him since I was a teenager and a friend's uncle told us about him. While Larry recited, nothing else existed in this world. There was no background noise from the festival, the temperature didn't matter...all there was in the world were the words he spoke of an Oklahoma Cowboy.

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Cowboy | |

Campfire Calm

Whenever I'm troubled by my modern day folly of living by the bill of exchange.
I run to my stacked sandstone campfire with an armful of deadwood arrange.
With a strike of a match and a breath from my bosom the flickering gold dancing flame
lights a fire in my soul as the smoke starts to roll 'round the log that the hot embers claim.

I'm calmed by the light of the campfire, eased by the warmth of its glow
and cozy inside as I sit beside my campfire.

As I yearn for the money and material worth that I've been conditioned to want,
a Spirit within me from long, long ago rejects this unnatural affront.
It guides me to a walk in the wilderness, to look up to the heavenly skies
then sit by my sandstone campfire and listen to the coyotes' cries.

I'm calmed by the light of the campfire, eased by the warmth of its glow
and cozy inside as I sit beside my campfire.

As I question my purpose past misguided deeds,
unwanted weakness, ill-conceived creeds,
Great Spirit returns me to the laws of the Earth,
to faith, cause, and guidance to heavenly worth.
I stand in a forest of pine trees and gaze at the vistas around
with a fresh breath of air I pray and I listen to the crackling campfire sound.

I'm calmed by the light of the campfire, eased by the warmth of its glow
and cozy inside as I sit beside my campfire.

Copyright © Kenneth Moore