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Cowboy Winter Poems | Cowboy Poems About Winter

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

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Details | Concrete | |

The Place that Shaped Me

  I left my
  heart   in 
 a magical 
  place. A
  place that
  holds years
 of wonder and
 awe. A place that
 knows me  better
 than any  other place
  I’ve been.  This place
  has changed me and 
     molded me into the
       person I am now.
     The forests, trees, creeks,
    and open skies instilled in 
  me a  love for God’s  works. 
The harshness of the winters has 
taught me to be patient and to endure.     My  small
town is where I  learned the  small-town work  ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn  and earning what 
you want takes  a little bit of  sweat  and  tears. Here
I  learned  that  you  don’t  have  to  be  blood  to  be 
family.  Brothers  and  sisters  are  made  throughout
years of school together. We relied on  each other to
be happy. This place will forever  hold my heart and
soul. I  am a small  town  girl  through  and  through. 
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for  shaping  me  into  something  more  than  I  was.

Copyright © Samantha Farr

Details | Elegy | |

Passing

To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.

Copyright © Tom Hyam

Details | Free verse | |

Wild Western Blizzard

What could I really know of the breaks 
                                                                in the land
huge canyons               bleeding red              cut by the wind
with the snow swirling                                  around our tires
barns upright 
                                   and fallen to a  tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
                        we scrape madly inside
                              trying to keep cold out
speed slowing
slowing to a crawl
always on the lookout
outside line appearing and gone, 
                                                                    no worries about
cattle led inside to safety    to be watered               and fed
but what of us?
                       Will we be trapped clutching a candle
                             wanting a chocolate bar, 
                                 waiting for a tractor?
and all the flat seeming land seems to have ditches
and roof pitches and rushing trees, and a swirl
                         of slumbering snow 
                                             to lumber down in drifts and piles
no fire would ever warm us
                                                                temperature dropping
dropping 
            until finally we see it                shining in the dark
                                          a lantern at a farm
a fleet of snow mobiles to greet  us
                                                                   scurry is off 
                             before our ears turn blue, 
                                would they fall off?
Luckily, not tonight, not in this blizzard, 
                                                                      we have home.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

Details | Narrative | |

Winter Hay



He had some time to spare and pray.
He worked his farm for years, all his boys have now grown up,
then moved away.

He raised them good he raised them right.
He run cattle so they can earn college degrees and,
then  start living their own lives. being free.

Now it’s hard after his wife has died.
It broke his heart but he promised that he would,
keep their farm alive..

Now here he sits taking a break.
Asking god for a weather break.
all because, his cows needs winter hay.

Copyright © Jack Reed

Details | Quintain (English) | |

Jingle Bells

We’re cuddled up now, 
In the back of the sleigh;
Listening as the bells jingle,
In a Merry Christmas way!

Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Cowboy | |

"Winter Strays"

Ride brush, stray search. Sit high, leather perch. Lasso thrown, dally wrapped. Wind howls, brim flapped. Chaps warm, gloved hand. Twenty years, ride brand. Spurs jingle, double rowel. Heading home, round corral. By Jim "Ish" Fellers Copyright ©: August 06, 2003 Wednesday @ 1:40 a.m.

Copyright © JW Fellers

Details | Ballad | |

Wyoming Winter


It’s a Wyoming winter--there’s snowflakes and sleet coming down,
The cowboy is hiding away from the trouble in town.

Now, the gambler he cheated the cowboy of wages,
With cards that he chose to conceal,
So the cowboy he pulled out a pistol and shot it,
And the gambler, he lost his last deal.

Then the cowboy, he rides toward the line-shack and stays there,
While Wyoming winter-winds wail,
Soon the store-keeper’s daughter arrives with provisions,
And a posse that’s close on her trail.

Now the posse gives up and turns back in the blizzard,
While Wyoming winter winds roar,
Then the lovers, they travel from Cheyenne to Denver,
And they marry, and open a store.

It’s a Wyoming winter, there’s snowflakes and sleet coming down,
It’s a Wyoming winter, they’re safe from the trouble in town.
03-27-79
*

Copyright © Steve Eng

Details | Cowboy | |

Winter Western

We are far from the hum, but not far enough—
Worlds not of our making intrude – life is rough.

Winter birds are not wheeling in the steel gray sky—
Seems seasons bring questions, but no good day to die.

Unlike black and white westerns, there’s no good end—
We may beat back bad men but die without a friend.

Oh, we all wish that things did not turn out that way—
But God is not silent and has the final say. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe