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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!


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.


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 
Skat's 
Halloween Costume Contest
G.L. All
                                      

 
                                      
                                       


                                     

                                     
                                       


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.


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.


Details | Cowboy | |

Writing

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 !


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'


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.  


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.


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.



Details | Cowboy | |

Sweet Yesterday But I Take This Minute

Sweet yesterday 
O how sweet it is 
To be alive in my moment 
I live I breathe
 I  live my minute 
Breathe in  out with dreams
 Deep in me
 I dream of living in peace
 Peace peace 
No more war 
No more pain 
Just simple   
 As life I walk fee
l life breathing 
My breath 
In  a sweet 
State of life


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


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboy Christmas Toast

May you celebrate the spirit
Of all good things on this earth—
May you ride down all the right trails
And pay honor to Christ’s birth.


Details | Cowboy | |

WILD STICKHORSE REMUDA

   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." 



Details | Narrative | |

A Blessing In The Heat (Part 2)

Johnny Clare is an example of many a young man who Cowboy'd in the truest sense of the word. He did a job. He did it well. Though he met an untimely end, his life did not go unnoticed. Continental Oil Company put up a monument to a young man who worked for them, but Larry McWhorter's words made him real. The essence of who he was is immortalized in that poem. It is more than a poem about one Cowboy...it is a poem about every Cowboy who ever rode for the Brand. It is a poem about the heart and soul of men who built our country through hard work and sacrifice. It is a poem about one man's basic belief that time may march on, but those everyday Cowboys like Johnny Clare will not be forgotten. The monument stands as a reminder of "where," but Larry McWhorter's words stand as a reminder of "why." His words, a tribute to the spirit of man and a lesson on how to live what you love.

I cried that day. Tears of joy for having shared this moment with Larry and Andrea; for having one of my heroes of Cowboy Poetry recognize me and for his gift of words to me. We have been friends since. I love and respect him and Andrea; because they are good, kind, strong people of the land with deep conviction in their faith and strong relationship with the Savior. They live each day with grace, they give that grace to others and they make all strangers friends. Proud am I that I know them. Lucky am I that I got to go to Weatherford, Texas that day.

I have learned that it's not the trail we ride, but the tracks we leave behind for others to follow that matters. Time may march on, but word and deed live on forever; as does the spirit of any person dedicated to living life to the fullest while serving their fellow man. The impression we leave is our memorial to this earthly life. Building a monument with words and telling the stories about others so they are never forgotten is our memorial
to those we love and admire. Johnny Clare, Larry McWhorter, all those men I grew up with and those I am privileged to call my friends; all living life their way by the Grace of God, all fighting the good fight and marching forward no matter the obstacles, all inspiring us to live life to its fullest. When it comes to great men of heart and spirit the memory never fades and the words of praise are endless. And that, my friends, is the greatest monument of all.


Details | Cowboy | |

Horse Dream



All my life, from day one it seems,
owning a horse has consumed my dreams.
I was intrigued with horses right from the start 
and the four-hoofed critters captured my heart.

I would wear a little western hat of felt 
and two cap pistols on my plastic gun belt.
Then I’d straddle a stick from our pile of wood 
and ride that “horse” around the neighborhood.

Later on, when I was a grade school tyke,
I’d visualize a horse when I rode my bike.
I’d pretend I was taking a horseback ride 
as I pedaled across the desert countryside.

This dream didn’t stop even in high school,
for I was still a horse-loving fool.
I lived in town and hung out with the cool gang 
but the car I drove was a Ford Mustang.

For years I labored in the city grind, 
but horses always lingered in the back of my mind.
Finally I decided to pursue my own course 
and went out and bought myself a real live horse.

I kept my equine dream alive 
and my one little horse soon became five.
It’s incredible how much money I spend 
but I don’t want my horse dream to ever end.


Details | Cowboy | |

THE MONEY FOR HER DIAMOND

     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. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Frank and the Circuit Preacher

The Circuit Preacher came to town, 
and the word of God he preached, 
At the end of his sermon, 
our souls he did beseech. 
 
	We all stood shuffling around, 
	like calves stuck in the mire, 
	We’d only come to see the foreman’s sisters, 
	who were singing in the choir.  
 
What happened next surprised us, 
it was the derndest thing we ever saw, 
There was Frank, on his knees, 
his hands clasped beneath his jaw. 
 
	Now Frank, he was a sinner, 
	of a magnitude most high, 
	It was not beneath his dignity, 
	to cheat or steal or lie. 
 
But there he was, on his knees, 
praying with all his might, 
Begging for forgiveness, 
for he had seen the light. 
 
	I’d like to say Frank truly changed, 
	becoming perfect through and through, 
	But there’s no use in saying so, 
	I’d just be lying to you. 
 
But he was a bit more tolerant, 
and every once in awhile, 
He treated the hands respectful, 
sometimes, he would even smile. 

	Sure, he had his slip-ups, 
	but most of his time was well spent, 
	And when he was bad, he was sorry, 
	the very definition of the word repent. 
 
On the day he passed from this world, 
he went grinning without a sound. 
And no one here has ever forgotten, 
the day the Circuit Preacher came to town.


Details | Cowboy | |

Silent Guardians

You stand there, silent & watching
each of you in turn holding a bank of memories
That are mine to draw from each day 

To the North, the Catalinas
Draw me back to childhood days
of breakfasts, camp fires & snow ball fights
teenage drives & love's first kiss 

To the East, the Rincons
Where I have wiled the time away
I've hiked your trails & greeted the moon
watched storms roll in & lightening play 

To the South, the Santa Ritas
Long forgotten roads & ghost towns
hold my grief & pain, sorrow & tears
when from adulthood & its trials I ran 

To the West, the Tucson Mountains
settling low & wide, hold a poet's dreams
Just me & a cactus wren serenade
as day gave way to desert night 

You stand there, silent & watching
welcoming me home & drawing me close
At every turn I find you there
Solid & watchful, ever the Silent Guardians


Details | Cowboy | |

Buffalo Dance

Rough, Untamed 
Rush the draw 
Primal energy 
Passionate, Raw 
 
	Painted face 
	Feathered lance 
	So begins 
	The Buffalo Dance 
 
Race the Thunder 
Over the hill 
Take the world 
By sheer will 
 
	Free and Wild 
	Without care 
	Fearless screams 
	Split the air 
 
Call it Destiny 
Call it Chance 
Drums beat out 
The Buffalo Dance 
 
	Rise and Fall 
	The Liar’s Moon 
	Death and Existence 
	Come too soon 
 
Earth is made  
Of Give and Take 
Past and Future 
Are at stake 
 
	Lightning strikes 
	Evil askance 
	Spirits of Fire 
	Join the Buffalo Dance 
 
Caution tossed  
To the Wind 
Now is the place 
To begin 
 
	Turn the herd 
	Lead the pack 
	Valiant hearts 
	Blaze new tracks 
 
Dreams are real 
This is no trance 
Life lived Full 
Is the Buffalo Dance


Details | Cowboy | |

One Old Cowpoke Went Riding

One old cowpoke went ridin’ down the trail of dusty days,
Waitin’ on the all the test results, blood work and the X-rays.
They say his horse threw him, but the truth’s his knee gave out,
And all he could do was lay there, and yell and cuss and shout.

So he wound up in that clinic – couldn’t stand it longer—
He said if they didn’t kill him, it would make him stronger.   
But it just got him to thinkin’ of things that were profound—
The way life used to be before all the country turned to town.

He’s now in his nineties and call still recall the Old West—
When men were men and all them things just worked out for the best.
But times they changed and kids moved on and didn’t like ranch work—
But he held on, lived the dream and from chores never did shirk. 

Now the ranch is gone and he rode on, but did not give up—
As kids and life went their own way and they had their own pups.
And now even his grand kids have kids of their very own,
Yet as he lays in that bed, this life has left him alone.

In the hall a young boy stands, decked in cowboy hat and boots—
Waitin’ to see his great granddad and share family roots.
Doors open to his great grandson who greets him as he lays—
One young cowpoke comes ridin’ down his trail of reborn days.


Details | Cowboy | |

Echoes of the Canyon

They say that she is crazy 
   talking to the canyon; 
Listening to the voices 
   that echo from the rocks. 
She knows that they are out there, 
   the spirits of the Ancients, 
And the moon, it makes her restless 
   as it lights the path she walks. 
 
The Storykeeper told her 
   the water there flows crimson; 
That the grass for the ponies, 
   is lush and green and tall. 
Among the stalks of sky-blue corn, 
   medicine drums are calling; 
The Old Ones shadow-dancing 
   as the twilight starts to fall. 
 
So she burns a little sage 
   on a fire made of cedar; 
Sending prayers out to them 
   in a shower of sparks and smoke. 
The flames bid her welcome 
   into the Sacred Circle; 
Her flute repeating softly, 
   the promises that he spoke. 
 
For her sacrifice and faith 
   the Old Ones send a message; 
A hawk dips down and beckons 
   to follow ever high. 
The path is steep and rocky, 
   but she just keeps on climbing; 
Waiting for the moment 
   when she’ll be allowed to fly. 

One day, she simply disappeared. 
   I like to think she found it; 
That emerald endless valley 
   where the Spirit Dancers dwell. 
The only question left... 
   do we deserve to go there? 
I guess that’s just a story 
   that only time can tell. 
 
So, will they think I’m crazy 
   talking to the canyon? 
Listening for her voice 
   to echo from the stones... 
Their thoughts do not concern me 
   in my quest for the Great Forever; 
Wandering the Crimson Canyon trails, 
   searching for my home. 
 
*With love to TR...who set my feet back upon the good road.


Details | Cowboy | |

Common Sense, Men and Horses / Short Version

 We perched atop the corral, 
   as he read the men and horses, 
And he told me about common sense 
   and it’s amazing, magical forces. 
 
We watched the men choose their mounts, 
   some were firm, but kind; 
While others used plain brute force, 
   to make their horses mind. 
 
He said,” Dealing with horses and people  
   is a special kind of art. 
If you watch ‘em work, you'll learn 
   what is truly in a man’s heart. 
 
For though it once was common place, 
   common sense ain’t common any more 
And many of the basic rules of life, 
   some folks will choose to ignore. 
 
The truth is just as obvious 
   as these fellows working the pens. 
There will always be Cowboys 
   as long as there are horses and men. 
 
And just as it takes all kinds of horses, 
   from renegades to leaders to make a herd; 
There will also always be outlaws 
   as well as men true to their word. 
 
You see, a man who can’t, 
   will often bully his way through, 
And how a man treats his horse 
   is how he’ll end up treating you. 

The decisions that we make 
  should be rooted in our common sense. 
Like horses, we should use our instincts, 
   or be prepared to accept the consequence." 
 
We watched ‘em work for hours, 
   as I hung on every word he had to say; 
About life, love and horses; 
   how God hears us when we pray. 
 
I simply took it for granted 
   that he would always be, 
Sitting on that fence rail, 
   talking and laughing with me. 
 
Time makes changes as it passes by; 
   I grew up and followed my star. 
But in times of trouble I’d hear his voice, 
   saying “Remember who’s child you are.” 
 
He taught me to read the world 
   though I didn’t know it at the time. 
I learned about strength and self-respect; 
   how to recognize the best in mankind. 
 
Oh, I made mistakes, but have no regrets, 
   for each is valuable in it’s own way. 
Combined with his words and an education, 
   they are a part of who I am today. 
 
So I honor this Cowboy philosopher, 
   who taught me to follow my heart’s voice; 
To see things exactly for what they are 
   and that happiness is a choice. 

And nothing ever really gets me down, 
   because of these things I can be sure; 
That home is where the heart is, 
   and that love will forever endure. 
 
I realize all those things I learned, 
   from books and college courses, 
Will never hold a candle to his lesson, 
   on common sense, and men and horses.


Details | Cowboy | |

Boulder Ridge

The moon is full above the canyon 
   listen to the call... 
The music of the river 
   echoes between the walls. 
  
A love song for the brave 
   who boldly choose to walk, 
The path of their true destiny 
   as the drums begin to talk. 
 
The boulder on the ridge 
   catches and holds the light, 
Providing a mystic place 
   for passion in the night. 
 
Hearts beating to the cadence 
   of the drums far below, 
Sharing souls and secrets 
   only the moon will know. 
 
Breathe deep the magic moment, 
   It is here by more than chance, 
Come out of the half shadows, 
   Listen...Live...and Dance. 
 

 
 


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.


Details | Cowboy | |

Asvnoyi

If I close my eyes, 
  and breathe in very deep, 
I go back to a world, 
  on the edge of sleep. 
In the false light of morning, 
  just this side of dawn, 
A game begins in a place, 
  where man is a pawn. 
 
The Medicine Man stands on a ridge, 
  on a rocky, windy hill, 
And throws out his energy across the plains, 
  giving the Earth his will. 
He speaks of all the winters past, 
  of places far and away, 
Of a need to leave the past behind, 
  yet, a need for the past to stay. 
 
He calls upon the ancients, 
  asks a blessing upon my spirit, 
And shakes his rattle in such a way, 
  that to this day I hear it. 
He looks down upon the buffalo, 
  says, “See your Destiny there, 
For you alone are responsible, 
  for their future and their care.” 
 
I dreamed I danced among them, 
  and the thunder of the Earth was mine, 
That there was no civilization, 
  no fences, no concept of time. 
I had thought him hard and callous, 
  but much to my surprise, 
Tears of joy did glisten,  
  in the furrowed corners of his eyes. 

He said, “ I know you now understand, 
  who you are and what you’ll be, 
You’ve taken on a new spirit,  
  one the buffalo can see. 
A peace, it had descended, 
  the old man stood silent until, 
He spoke the words that changed my life, 
  words of truth that echo still... 
 
“You will begin to fly now, 
  above the rhythm and the sound, 
Your spirit is the Nighthawk, 
  no longer earthly bound.” 
Then like a fog burned away, 
  by the warmth of a rising sun, 
He vanished into the air, 
  but all was not said and done. 
 
Into the sky I flew... 
  a bird of prey upon the wing, 
The thunder of the buffalo, 
  and my cry, together, did sing. 
My search led to thousands of acres, 
  on which the buffalo could run and shout, 
Stampeding in primitive abandon, 
  as they often dream about. 
 
And I?...I fly above them, 
  watching with unbridled glee, 
Sharing in the unleashed passion, 
  one feels when totally free. 
I follow a vision journey, 
  on a higher, centered plain, 
Thankful for this chance, 
  to die, yet live, again.


Details | Cowboy | |

Fond Wishes

 Oh Lord, please take us to places unseen, 
Back to endless skies, and plains emerald green. 
Through the words and songs, of poets and balladeers, 
Give us good strong memories, and only happy tears. 
 
Take us to snow-capped mountains and prairie grasses tall, 
Let us see, just once more, aspens in the fall. 
Open up our hearts, to far off, longed for places, 
And let us ride one last time, across wide open spaces. 
 
Give us one good horse, and one true, loyal friend, 
And someone to remember us, at the very end. 
Never doubt we are grateful, for the future and the past, 
Because we can go there, in these words that will last. 
 
For Cowboys know the scriptures; they live them first hand, 
Breathing many prayers for the preservation of the land. 
Let us hear the music and words, listen to what they say, 
Remind us who we are, and let us remember how to pray


Details | Cowboy | |

Gone to the Mountains

Sometimes the mountains call so strongly
   that I shall never know peace
Until I stand where Heaven begins
   and the bonds of this life cease.

I do not wish to leave you;
   I've not but words to leave behind.
I pray, when you read, you'll remember me,
   as strong and loyal an kind.

I rode the trail for which I was called,
   in my mind regrets have no place;
The adventure was there for the living,
   my heart says I ran a good race.

So listen for me in the laughter
   that comes easy among true friends;
In the sounds of men and horses
   beneath a sky that has no end.

And know that I loved you one and all,
   when you hear music or smell sage in the air,
Dance hard and live for the moment,
   my spirit will always be there.

Celebrate life and love and the West;
   be fearless and funny and bold;
Please take the time to finish
   any stories that I've left untold.

Past the meadow where blue bonnets grow,
   near the creek by the gate;
My horse stands rigged for an easy ride,
   and I can no longer wait.

So tell them I've gone to the mountains,
   to the land I loved and called my home;
That I ride with the wild Texas wind,
   somewhere west of San Antone.

© Debra Coppinger Hill
With love for TR, who gave me words and love and taught me how to be an outlaw.



Details | Cowboy | |

The Cowboy's Cathedral

As he lingers off his horse
At the end of day’s long ride—
The sunset is his stained glass
And there is no place to hide.

His old saddle is his pew
And the cattle herd’s his choir—
The creek’s murmurs are his hymns—
His scars all made by barbed wire.

Green mountains are his steeples—
A chuck wagon’s an alter—
Hard tack serves as his wafer
And his prayers seldom falter. 

Yet saying grace seems mere words
That will make belief too small—
A clear night sky gives him faith
To put aside pride and gall.

There’s no word for religion
When he’s on the open plain—
It’s a thing he can’t describe,
Making sense of what’s insane.

Thunder’s his organ music—
Stampeding them to slaughter—
His prayers come when he needs them—
His blood of Christ is water.

The sage serves as his sermon
And wild rivers cleanse his sin,
As he seeks out his purpose
To be a man among men.

And though he now seems alone,
That’s not really how it is—
He is always with his Lord,
And the peace he has is His.

And so as he comes forward
From the pasture he did tend—
He has found his cathedral—
Leaving offerings on wind.

Then as he seeks acceptance
And the peacefulness it brings—
He soars above blue pastures,
Riding nestled on God’s wings. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Waiting for the Light

     It's quiet as he rises,
Makes his way to the kitchen,
Builds a pot of coffee,
In the dark before the morn.
Stands on the back porch,
Looks upon his Cowboy Kingdom,
And savors the perfect Stillness
As a brand new day is born.

     He moves out to the corral,
To his throne upon the top rail,
Seats himself to where
He can look off towards the east.
He contemplates the North Star,
Circled by the big dipper,
Cowboy clock, keeping track
While all the world's asleep

     He can see the shapes of cattle,
In the tallgrass of the pasture,
A sliver of a moon
Casting shadows on the ground.
Hears the nightbird call,
As the wind begins to stir,
And the soft talking of horses
As they begin to move around.

     He'll watch the stars awhile,
Pick out the constellations,
Wonders what it's like
To ride the Milky Way.
And bear a silent witness,
To this solitary moment,
Say a thankful prayer
As the East begins to gray.

     Streaks of light are moving,
Dancing bright across the sky,
He feels a little sadness
At the dimming of the stars.
There's Something holy in the darkness,
That reveals a sacred promise,
That binds us to the earth,
And reminds us who we are.

     His cup of coffee finished,
He slides down from the top rail,
Feels fortunate and privileged
To be part of the dawn.
He smiles into the fading night
And walks back to the cabin,
Without a doubt he knows
This is just where he belongs.

     It's the best part of the day,
Sitting in the darkness,
Knowing in your heart
That all is right.
The best part of the day,
Sitting in the darkness,
Waiting for the morning
And the light.

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill and  G. Casey Allen 


Details | Cowboy | |

Still Some Cowboy

There’s still some cowboy in America,
That just won’t go away—
You’ll find it East and West and South and North—
Lingering to this day.

It’s just something that you can’t quite define—
The right way to do a thing—
A walk, some straight talk, an honest handshake—
It makes our hearts still sing.

There’s still some cowboy in America—
Let’s pray it is not killed—
America won’t be America,
If dreams go unfulfilled.


Details | Cowboy | |

Don't Call Me No Cowboy

The little boy threw down his hat
And marched right from the room—
The TV on with nightly news
Of murder, muggings and doom.

The grandpa called out to the hall,
“What’s the matter lil’ pard?
Come back in here and cowboy up,
Don’t be takin’ life so hard!”

The kid slunk back into the room,
This grandson they named Roy,
And with disgust and mistrust said,
“Don’t call me no cowboy!”

“I reckon that you’re right upset,”
His granddad did allow,
“Pick up your brand new cowboy hat
And let’s walk to the corral.”

Then as they leaned on that old fence
That seldom now was used,
The old cowpoke now listened to
His grandson vent his blues:

“I keep hearin’ on the TV,”
Slowly spewed the little lad,
“How some wild folks are just “cowboys”
And ain’t nothin’ but pure bad.  

“They even called our president
A cowboy behind his back—
Like it was something terrible
Or something that he did lack.”

The granddad stroked his long mustache,
Then told that boy what’s so—
“Son, bein’ a cowboy’s a good thing
And don’t let them tell you no.

“We’re keepers of a heritage
That started in the Old West
With good God-fearin’ settlers
That worked hard and gave their best.

“But like all folks, creeds and races,
There’s the bad and the good—
It just takes some figurin’ out
To see where most folks stood.

“There’s always them that question us
Because we don’t seem real
And try to hoe an honest path
And plant instead of steal.

“A cowboy’s handshake is his word—
He’ll risk his life for what’s right-- 
He loves his country, that’s for sure
And defend her with his might!

“Some may think that he’s just too brash
And too quick with his gun—
He don’t ride life’s ol’ middle road—
He does what needs to be done!

“The cowboy helped build this country—
In that we can be proud—
Tell ‘em you’ll always be a cowboy
And tell ‘em good and loud!”

The little boy looked up relieved
And donned his cowboy hat—
“I’m sure proud to be a cowboy!”
And that was the end of that.