Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Cowboy Horse Poems | Cowboy Poems About Horse

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Cowboys in the Badlands 

Out West, across the great divide
great open spaces oceans wide
Beauty in these badlands does hide
everything fights us as we ride

Last stop, was exciting wild Abilene
shot an hombre that was very mean
Watched him bleed as he slowly died
his gal held him and loudly she cried

Before, she had sworn love to me
next his dying love she swore to be
Riding away fast, ahead of the Law
looking back, cloud of dust we saw

My partner lit out on me last night
cried this was surely not his fight
He turned back east galloping so fast
we had our time, had a damn blast 

Ahead the badlands beckon me on
this cowboy life sets me all alone
Hot as hell the water miles ahead
A night's rest to clear my head

Morning sun woke me to its heat
no bread, bacon and eggs to eat
My water is in very short supply
always fleeing, I ponder just why

No time to enjoy such pretty views
my path ahead my life must choose
Avoiding Indians and the chasing men
forever alone with never a friend

This beauty now I can slow to see
posse has surely given up on me
Coyotes call , rattlesnakes do hiss
comfort of town I do sorely miss

Found now, a trail to old Mexico 
across the Rio Grande I now go
Far behind, hot hell races after me
dancing with pretty senoritas I'll soon be!


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.

West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.

Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.

In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.

Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?

Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.

In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.

"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.

written 17/09/2014

contest: Cowboys in the Badlands

sponsor Isaiah

Details | Epic | |

The Drove

The trail was long and very dusty
great clouds churned up by hooves
of the vast herd being wrangled on
300 more miles of eating their dust

Bandana's tightly wrapped round faces
cries of "get up there" ringing out
bawling calves separated from mothers
hiss of hot branding irons scorching

A rumbling constantly moving mass
stretching back as far as eyes can see
horses reeling back and forth, pushing
always pushing them on, 200 miles to go

Storm is approaching as they settle down
tightly bunched up wranglers keeping watch
hard as nails falls the rain, lashing down
cattle milling round and round as flashes

Of lightning light up the sky causing 
restless beasts to try to break and flee away
tumultuous thunder now joining in causing panic
"Keep them circling, don't let them break out"

Came the cries of the foreman as they tried to hold 
chuck wagon knocked over as through camp they run
woe to anyone on foot or even a thrown rider
"keep them going south, They will stop at the river"

Gradually the storm quietens and dies down
first light shows how scattered they are
some needing to be shot where they lay mangled
the rest pushed through the river to the plains

Here they can be regrouped, lush grasses to eat
no urgency now 10 miles or so a day we push them
letting them gain some more weight, 50 miles to go
the foreman sends two men on to warn the yards

At last they see the rail tracks, only 15 miles away
"one last big push lads and we will have them there
tonight we will wet our whistles and eat like kings"
hot tubs to soak in, washing away dirt that is caked

We push them into the waiting pens as they bawl and churn
settled now with fresh hay and water the plaintive calls
of mothers looking for their calves, the wranglers push 
them together keeping the bulls apart, they will ship first

Now work is done, 800 miles or so we have driven them
it is time to relax and let our hair down, find ladies
of the night with which to dally for awhile, some poker
played, several fights break out over who gets which one

As dawn breaks low rumbles from the pens as the cattle stir
the town but for a few still fast asleep, until the train
spitting steam and smoke arrives, and buyers now alight
many offers are made and rejected out of hand, these cows

Are already sold to keep our armies fed as they war against
the Maverick Indians, that are plundering the homesteads
30,000 at first of drove, now reduced to 27,000 or so
loaded up on the train our job is done we are homeward bound    

written 09/17/2013

contest Epic Only

Details | Cowboy | |

The Dark Horse Upon the Hill

He was an old Crow Indian
Rejected by all his kin,
That never fit in any world,
But now lived among white men.

He must have been near one hundred
In our scale of years on earth,
And acquired a wealth of wisdom
From the first day of his birth.

All his words would tell his visions,
And I can hear them all still—
Especially his prophecy:
The dark horse upon the hill.

The time would be of many storms,
And grim changes would occur—
There would be wars and many deaths
And the bloody, silver spur.

The chiefs would be great and many,
Yet their medicine be bad—
And on the land would be defeat—
Squaws would wither and be sad.

Yet, there would still be one more feared
To trap us with his cruel will—
The one that spoke of hope and change:
That dark horse upon the hill.

And so the once great nation falls
And becomes like all the rest—
The mighty banner now unfurled
As it sinks into the West.

Yes, that old Crow saw it all then—
Now we know the coming chill—
We hold blinded eyes open to
The dark horse upon the hill.

Details | Cowboy | |

I'll Go a Ridin' No More

I’ll go a ridin’ no more through blue stem or chaparral,
Just lead my horse to pastures of green.
I’ll watch those rose ruby suns ease on past the ol’ corral—
Think back on the things I’ve done and seen.

Oh, you can’t go on a ridin’ for all your livelong days—
You’ve got to know when to settle down.
You’ll gently pet your ol’ horse as you put her out to graze
And soon life won’t seem so bad in town.

But when blue bonnets and the high plains send their callin’ card,
Your restless feet start to feel that itch.
Then it don’t matter if you’re stove-up or your butt is lard—
That feelin’ calls to the poor and rich.

Just once more I’ll go a ridin’ in the sorrel and sage—
Testin’ my ol’ horse for all it’s worth.
And I know that time cannot stop me, even at my age,
From ridin’ free of the reins of earth. 

Details | Haiku | |

Into the sunset

Living lonely lives,
Cowboys are known for riding
Into the sunsets

8 May 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Longing for the ride

Majestic he stands 
Head held high and proud
Until I draw near tack in hand
His mussel to my chest he bows

Our eyes fixed
With deepest affection
Respect from me
From him acceptance 

His nostrils flair 
He inhales my scent
A bond beyond fences
A mutual consent

About horse and rider 
How can I explain
This communion of splendor 
Perpetually sustained

With reverent candor
Can any man compare
Who would be considered grander
Horse or rider if you dare

Nobility without pride
Beauty without vanity
Majesty without disciple
Power without violence 

Do you still wonder why I'm longing for the ride
When he challenges the wind for speed
Brushed by heaven with every stride
Intimacy mounted here on "Spirit's Pride"

My steed and I in harmony
Exhilaration captivates my senses
Pounding hooves, his earthen scent 
Taut muscles ripple in sweat profusely drenched

He heeds the slightest touch of rein
His saddle is my alter of prayer
When he on oceans sands a trot
My soul is healed all disrepair

In bed I lay awake tonight my mind a heavy load
His blaze is blazoned in my memory burned
Of black night mane and chestnut coat
A quatrain tribute to his name he's earned

Still you may not understand
This yearning so many take in stride
Of horse and rider pure joy provider
And oh such longing for the ride

Details | Free verse | |


A lone rider sits high in the saddle,
As the horizon's sunrise spreads across,
The open prairie.
Twin pearl handed pistols rest at his side,
As rusty spires clang against wooden planks,
At the deadwood saloon.
Legends cowboys whisper his name,
On the dry desert winds,
A giant of a man whom breathed
Life again into the legacy,
 Of the old west.
His side swagger's walk trademark
On the larger than a life screen.
The duke truly represents the great 
American hero on horse back.
Six shooters drawn at high noon's 
Count down,
John Wayne's the trail dusts equalizer,
He always remained on the right side,
Of tin stars law.
The tumble weeds rolls along a dirt path,
As tall cactus stand on an arried canvas,
Life here is harsh and mean,
Where only the strong survive.
Bold individuals with the inner
Strength against god's forbidden land.
Harden men whom lived by one simple,
Rule I will do what ever it takes
To stay alive.
He'll join the ghost riders,
Forever driving the lords herds
Across the grand divides vast
Prairie sky’s as the sunsets
In the old west.
Alone figure rides high in saddle,
Set against a legends back drop,
Hell bound for glory,
In a cloud of gun smokes fog,
Behold the duke emerges,
With his hat on straight
And gun at the ready.


Details | Cowboy | |

gentle giants

Legend says their eyes are the gateways to their kind, gentle souls,
They give sight to the blind and help the wheelchair bound run again,
They find the lost and heal the sick,
They are the best listeners and teachers,
Ive seen this majestic creature save a child before he had a seizure,
My own life has been saved by these Gentle giants,
They seek a true life long friendship and love from us,
Sometimes they are misunderstood as aggressive, dangerous or unintelligent,
This is so far from the truth,
As a wise cowboy once said " there are no bad horses, just horses with bad expiernces and habits",
they need a friend who is compatible with their personality to handle them and love them,
they all deserve a second chance like they have given us,
now its our turn to save them like they have saved us,
its time for us to be the horses guardian angles.

Copyright ©2014 MeganHuntington

Details | Pantoum | |


Howdy! Howdy! Whoa!


Just give me a cowboy poet
The one in chivalrous hat
To write me a horse ride sonnet,
Or just make my heartbeat fast.

The one in chivalrous hat
Who can fight the Arm Jerker's buck
Or just make my heartbeat fast
With this poet on horse's back.

Who can fight the Arm Jerker's buck
He shall lasso the farther poem
With this poet on horse's back
A vaquero I must adjoin.

He shall lasso the farther poem
The bandanna tied on his neck
A vaquero I must adjoin
Wild West rider on a rodeo trip

The bandanna tied on his neck
Rollin' his Bull on a long way siesta
Wild West rider on a rodeo trip
Must be the buffoon of waddie's fiesta.

Rollin' his Bull on a long way siesta
A nighthawk must have rope and pen
Must be the buffoon of waddie's fiesta
In his bedroll writes till past ten.

A nighthawk must have rope and pen
That was him I am asking for
In his bedroll writes till past ten
No further questions,one can't ask more.

That was him I am asking for
To write me a horse ride sonnet
No further questions,one can't ask more
Just give me a cowboy poet.

Details | Cowboy | |

The Fence Mender

Fresh Snow…
except by the horse tracks behind him
and the sagebrush, 
like polka dots on a bed sheet,
stretching to the mountains ahead.

He’s alone but far from lonely
as he rides up through the snow
along a sagging fence line
with the valley down below.
Pausing where the wire is down
this old fence mender looks around
to see if he can find a clue
of just what critter busted through.

But fresh snow…
covers any sort of sign
except those horse tracks back behind.

So he picks up the wire
nails it back in its place
under gray skies that cover
this wide open space.
Then the clouds     split       apart
by shafts from the sun
as if they’re God’s spotlight
on a job that’s well done.

Shadows shorten.
Boot and horse tracks
melt together as one
and tight wire is all that’s left behind.

Jeff Hildebrandt © 2004

Details | ABC | |

Ridin' On, Alone

Ridin' down into the canyon
Looking for some strays
I chanced to think about
The passing of the days.

Been chasing after cattle
Seems a mighty long time
And all those days I ain't be able
To save so much as a dime.

Never thought I'd get rich
Hiring out with herds
But cowboyin' and old age
Seems really for the birds.

My backside and that old saddle
Have formed a kind of warp and woof
So the leather's highly polished
And now there's snow upon my roof.

When I was a young stud
With a bellyful of fire
Living day to day was okay
And riding out for hire.

But now the cows are contankerous
And cow ponies ain't so smart
So I've started in a-wishing
I had a gal to share my heart.

There was a gal in Lubbock
With long and yellow hair
But that was a long time ago.
She's no longer there.

I remember what it was like to love
Then left alone to ache
Lonely hours in the saddle
Every memory a heartbreak.

All those years riding the range
I've had some time to think
Of the difference 'tween Hereford hides
And skin so soft and pink.

But now time and youth are gone
Left back there in the colorful past
Old horse and I are all that's left
Alone on the range as long as we last.

by E. Marshall Evans

Details | Rhyme | |


For more than forty years he mustered horses to the yard,
Reminding all the younger blokes “You’ve ‘gotta’ stay on guard,
For even decent broken horses have a spirit that is high,
And the months of lengthy grazing, can make them saddle shy”.
His spoken word was ‘gospel’ to the ringers on the rail,  
As they watched the flighty gelding with it’s sinewed body flail, 
In a wretched test of strength between a man and bucking horse, 
With just a moment lapsing came a death demanding force.

The sickening thud of hoof against the now defenseless skull,
Placed a numbness through the ringers in a seeming timeless lull,
Some rushed toward their mentor, some to keep the horse at bay,
And every face looked grim as they carried him away.

Time can seem eternal when the basic aids are not of use,
A man is hardly breathing and his limbs are falling loose, 
When the doctor is still coming from an hour’s flight away, 
And the women of the station ask the station men to pray.   

Throughout the day the horses wait beneath the bloodwood shade,
And ringers eager in the morn have felt their interest fade,
Their thoughts are feeling for the man upon a homestead bed,
Not knowing if the man’s alive, or if the man is dead.

Their faces gray and gaunt have their vision quite impaired,
As they sought their own direction and in silence quietly stared,
With prayers of understanding (that ringers rarely speak), 
The silence and the waiting turned around their other cheek. 

The hours passed to falling dusk and still there is no word,
The whinnying of a waiting horse is all that can be heard,
And the tension in the quarters caused a snap toward a bloke,
When the eerie still was broken by… “Has anyone a smoke?”
Through homestead blinds by shadows, steady movement could be seen,
The ringers broke their silence wondering what the movements mean,
They walked across the yard and heard the footsteps on the floor,
And every mind was focused on the opening of the door.

Details | Rhyme | |

Horses point of view

•	My cowboy has walked me to this horse eating pit-
•	I think I should dance and jig and throw quite a fit-
•	Gators and snakes and no bottom in sight-
•	If I put my hoof in it something will bite-
•	The ditch is wide and the water is green-
•	I’m getting spookier from the reflections I’ve seen-
•	Hang on fat cowboy and grab that saddle horn-
•	This big ole horse is going airborne!-
•	I tried to warn him of the upcoming jump-
•	When he hit the ground he made quite a thump!-
•	He dusted himself off when he got off the grass- 
•	Dirt and mud still stuck to his fat ass-
•	From his perspective he still failed to see-
•	That leap I made surely saved him and me!-

              By Mike  Francis

Details | Rhyme | |

Cowboys and Indians

When my brothers and I were young,
A very, very long time ago,
We had to entertain ourselves
And to make up our own show.

My brothers were riding bareback,
When they thought it might be fun
Instead of cowboys to be Indians.
With the thought the deed was done.

They stripped themselves and hung their clothes
On the bridle of each horse.
Their noble steeds were frightened
Of those flapping clothes, of course.

The horses ran and dumped those lads
Right into next ranch neighbor's yard.
They stood in bare embarrassment
While the neighbors laughed long and hard. 


Details | Rhyme | |

A Fun Filled Secret


An adventure I went
Full of laughter,
cheer and fun
A country themed day
that I will
Talk about, secrets
wont spill
First dressing like
cowgirls do
Tight fitting jeans
baby blue
Next a shirt with
hanging tassels
Snaps, not buttons,
prevent hassles
A belt buckle so
cute and shiny
Not big, a little
less tiny
A cowgirl hat on top
my head
No brown, pretty
pink instead
Special ordered
boots to wear
Fringe and spurs put
on with care
All decked out to
have a night
That will be a pure
My first country
club experience
Filled with care
free innocence
Music gets my feet a
Not knowing how this
just happened
Somehow over the
course of time
I was in a dancing
Not drunk, but
losing all my
I was doing moves so
Soon I was sitting
on a bull
Hanging on tightly
up until
Someone cranked it
up to high
I shot off into the
My singing is way to
To do any karaoke
Now I'm on stage out
of tune
Surprised I haven't
cleared the room
Hours go by and I
I can not leave this
Making a promise to
come back
Everybody loved my
Of a first timer at
this place
I never left a
single trace
My secret is safe of
That I am really a

Details | Rhyme | |


Imagine the joy! A word from the east
Delivered by pony express,
I ride into town on this nag of a beast
Fetching mail for my humble address.

Imagine the miles! Stretched far 'cross the plain
One rider, horse, saddle and bag,
Crouched o'er the withers, nose close to the mane
Spurred to relay before they might flag.

Imagine the hand! Crossed over the reins
As one man pulls back on the bit,
Another spurs on, fast and far 'cross the plains
Thus defining the truth in true grit.

Imagine the thrill! Mail passed hand to hand
From rider, to office, to nag,
Far west came my missive; a tip of my hat!
To the rider, horse, saddle and bag.


Details | Cowboy | |

Border's End

I did not drive the roan that day,
Just saddled up my old dark bay,
To check out fences far afield
And breathe in life with all its yield.

Near border’s end I came upon
A fresh, dead cow down by the pond.
I wondered why it had died here
With water and spring grass so near.

I spurred my horse and reined away
But something said that I should stay—
I creaked down from my saddle’s reach
And saw the cow had died in breech.

I knew they should be buried soon,
By light of day or dark of moon. 
I left them there, that calf and cow
And rode back home in thought somehow.

I had forgot that scene of death
Till summer quickly took my breath
And once again I passed that shell
Of twisted skin and faded smell.

The worms had done their work it seems 
On frenzied flesh and faltered dreams.
Yet, still I stared like at a grave—
Thought how we took but seldom gave.

Then autumn came and tinted trees
With colors each low creature sees.
So on my horse I sought them out,
To answer what this life’s about.  

A mute Madonna—sticks of bone,
Still nestled there so all alone.
We live and die, the season’s dawn,
We’re all breech born before we’re gone.

In winter’s wind the world turns cold
As cow and calf and man grow old.
Yet, now there’s no sinew or hide 
To hint of life or what’s inside.

Death’s passion passed and so did I
To pay respects and say goodbye.
For man and beast all die as kin—
I will not ride this trail again.


Details | Rhyme | |

Saloon Spectacular

It would be fun to
picture me 
In the 18th century
Sirs and
Visiting the unique
Like saloons where I
will find
Folks of every
different kind
Piano tunes are
Cards, darts,
pool--all kinds of
A bartender filling
Outside a horse and
buggy passes
Holsters carry guns
a lot
Tobacco spit in
shiny pots
Fancy clothes on
dancing girls
Taking cowboys for a
Spurs on boots and
cowboy hats
Seeing touches in
tight chaps
Drunks are acting
like a fool
Card cheating leads
to a dual
A time and place
that's never boring
It would be very
To turn back the
clock to be
Part of this special

Details | I do not know? | |

American sand "cowboystyle"

Stomp your feet to this good old beat
Clap your hands on this America sand.
Good home cooking
Pirie dog looking

Heaven sky looking
 where ever I go

Cowboy  news
Saddle horse and shoes
 Sun down in
My cowboy boots

Stomp your feet to this good old beat
Clap your hands on this America sand.
Good home cooking
Pirie dog looking

Heaven sky looking
 where ever I go

Cowboy  news
Saddle horse and shoes
 Sun down in
My cowboy boots

I tell the truth
In a telephone both
Heaven is my suit
Coming to get you

Good home cooking
Pirie dog looking

Heaven sky looking
 where ever I go

 People Go 
here and forth
Just  to bash
 and sow
Pushing laughter through door
plump for what you reap
Then at end of the week.
stomp your feet!!!!:0

Stomp your feet to this good old beat
Clap your hands on this America sand.
Good home cooking
Pirie dog looking

Heaven sky looking
 where ever I go

Cowboy  news
Saddle horse and shoes
 Sun down in
My cowboy boots

Stomp your feet to this good old beat
Clap your hands on this America sand.
Good home cooking
Pirie dog looking

Heaven sky looking
 where ever I go

Cowboy  news
Saddle horse and shoes
 Sun down in
My cowboy boots

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." 

Details | Rhyme | |

Ode To Romanova - A Good Horse

Ode To Romanova - A Good Horse

Romanova is a good horse;
truly one of a kind;
Her story I will tell you 
if so you are inclined.

She'd the look of a racehorse;
tall of stature, red of hue;
With Power and beauty;
I thought, a winner through and through.

But her mind had been a-scatter,
Headstrong, rambunctious and wild,
Until a bond we created 
My God, it took a while.

An understanding grew between us,
Like no one else could do,
A Love and respect had blossomed
that was both strong and true.

One day she came onto the track;
With a gleam in her eye;
and a flare to her nostrils
But her odds, they were high.

She broke from the gate; 
and ran like a train;
Passed horse after horse; 
oh boy, did she gain!

The jockey said "Let's go, girl"
Her name all did call;
There she charged out in front;
Ahead of them all.

Stride after stride; 
her lead grew down the lane.
She was first past the wire; 
the wind blowing through her mane.
Prancing back home;
A proud look on her face;
Clearly she knew;
She was "Winner of the Race".

That sweet taste of victory 
made her always yearn for more
To fly like the wind...,
That's what she had been born for

With each win she walked more nobly,
More confident, assured and satisfied.
The little-girl-scared, was now a champion,
We stood victorious together, she and I, side by side.

Details | Cowboy | |

Partners With the Wind

It is an ancient ancestry;
A horse hoof and man’s hand —
A primal link back to the sea—
Blood brother to the land. 

It is spring’s end for brandin’ now,
You stop and take a break—
But are you master or the cow?
This life’s more give than take.

You lean back slow, now at your ease
To saddle leather squeak—
As lowing sun grazes the trees
To find the breeze you seek. 

You know that those who share the land
Now seem too far and few—
But one thing that you understand,
Is that you’re far from through.

You know stampedin’ years won’t dim
This life that so few chose—
Freedom’s just like a far off rim
That we too often lose.

Yet, still the range rides in your heart;
Your soul is what it steals—
And then you’re right back at the start—
With wind beneath your heels.

The world throws you and has its say—
It’s sadness mixed with joy—
But still you know it’s a great day
Just to be a cowboy.

Yes, horse and man live their seasons,
They know all things must end—
Yet they linger for those reasons—
Close partners with the wind.

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 | |

Waddie Peacock's Last New Year

(The real Waddie Peacock, described only as “an old L.S. cowpuncher,” had the 
distinction of being the first person buried in Logan, New Mexico’s first cemetery 
in 1910.) 

It seems a man rides restless when he’s alone on the rim—
No one to rein him in a bit, no one to bury him.

So Waddie Peacock sat astride his horse reassessin’—
Dreamin’ past those frozen plains, tryin’ to count each blessin’.

He’d been an ol’ L.S. cowpuncher since hard scrabble youth,
But with the years and creakin’ bowlegs, he now sought the truth. 

He didn’t go out ridin’ much on that December trail—
He holed-up in an ol’ line shack till wit and nerve did fail.

But here he was on New Year’s Eve watchin’ those lone star skies,
Knowin’ that each man’s life is short, before he ups and dies.

Come fall he’ll head his hoss out to Logan, New Mexico—
Say goodbye to the L.S. boys and then he’ll have to go.

Some say there’s silver down Logan way - he’ll pack up his gun—
A brand new town and way of life – a brand new risin’ sun.

But now ol’ Waddie Peacock waits the start of this New Year.
He pats his faithful horse and knows with life there is no fear.

Somewhere a cowboy clangs a bell and shoots into the air—
The New Year comes like all the rest – ol’ Waddie just sits there.

Somehow he feels this year’s his last, and that he’ll be called home—
And Logan’s where he’ll soon now rest beneath the land and stone.

Details | Rhyme | |


In his cowboy outfit, young Danny was eloquently clad.
He'd never been throwed from his rockin' horse as a tad!
He aspired to be a cowboy and eventually got his chance,
But soon learned that cowboyin' wasn't all fun and romance!

The first thing he had to do was learn to ride a horse,
And then hire on as a ranch hand in due course.
With rockin' horse experience, he thought it a simple tour de force,
But he took many a bone rattlin' spill due to gravitational force!

He throwed the saddle on the horse and cinched it down too tight!
The horse would have none of that and unseated Dan with all his might!
His head was reelin' as he landed in a not too convenient cactus patch!
Extractin' thorns from his stern he mused, "Have I met my match?"

The horse, named Killer, glared at Dan with fire in his eyes!
He managed to climb aboard again - Boys, was he in for a surprise!
Again, that old bronc turned belly high landin' on all four feet.
Danny sprawlin' in the dust was ready to admit defeat!

Old-time cowpokes smokin' roll-yer-owns, hangin' around the corral,
Urged him on a-yellin', "Hang on greenhorn! Yippee Yo! Ride 'im pal!"
Dan lying in a heap of manure looked up and said, "Boys, he beat me good!
I reckon I'd better look around and find myself another livelihood!"

Details | Cowboy | |

Riding Down the Decline

The plains have their moments of wild beauty
As you ride with morning wind in your hair---
The sage and wide open spaces thrill you
As you ride free on that celestial stair.

But the hill country is another thing,
Although you and your horse start out just fine—
You both have to carefully watch your step
As you ride down that steady old decline.

At first, you don’t really notice a change—
A misstep or a small ache in your back—
Then you sense you can’t do things you once did
And to your thinking there’s a certain lack.

Oh, you can still out ride all those young dudes
And you’re still relied on in a real pinch—
But your step’s a little slower these days
And you give slack when once you gave no inch.

Gone are the days of those endless trail rides—
Your tail bone ain’t the rock it used to be—
You’d rather be riding soft rocking chairs,
Than on the range where it’s rough and still free.

So you slow up your horse on that ride down
And look ahead to the clouds and sunshine—
As you steady your reigns and your old horse
And slowly ease down that long last decline.  

Details | Cowboy | |

Shadow Cowboy

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

It seems we never saw him when things were at their best,
But things just don’t stay that way out here in the West.
Some say he’s a vaquero that died out on this land 
By way of some injustice that no one understands.

When maw came down with fever as hot as burnin’ Hell,
We heard spur chains outside and found water from the well.
And in a fleetin’ glance I saw him when maw died—
But I was just mistaken ‘cause cowboys never cried.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.

I never saw him again till fall took paw away—
And in he came a ridin’ without a word to say.
Or was it just a shadow that flickered on the hill?
Or that dark shadow cowboy that came to sap our will?

He is gone now forever – of him I do not speak—
I do not see him at the door or down by the creek.
But pains and aches are heavy and life is just not fair—
Before I turn ‘round, I know his shadow will be there.

Who was that tall cowboy I saw ridin’ by the door?
He seems just like some shadow that I’ve seen before.
He shimmers in the twilight – he was here and then gone—
Just a shadow cowboy like the horse he rides upon.