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!
Copyright © Robert Lindley
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
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
and fallen to a tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
we scrape madly inside
trying to keep cold out
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
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
Ah war out a walkin
Ut war a Sunday morn
Mah chores war all did
Warn't no need fer me et home
Ah walks along tha river
What does goes by er place
Hearin tha crickets singin
Un watchin dragonflies un tha chase
Tha rivers a little lively
Fer tha rain done brung er up
Un stead uve a little girgle
Ut souns more like "sup"
Ah war almost ta mah favor ite log
Wen ah does sees a dog
He jist stans un looks et me
N ah's goes walkin up
Then ah' see's uh movement
Un ut war a horse
He sniffs tha air un stares et me
Un never makes a noise
Over thar un mah log
Un much ta mah surprise
War un ol' man sittin
Un never even blinks un eye
Ah jist kinda moz ies over
Un sits down un tha end
Tryin hard not ta bothers um
Cause he war a snorin
Then thar war a little sound
Frum a rock across tha way
We's both looks ovar thar
Ta see's what tha frog has ta say
As he war a sayin his piece
The dog cumed right up
He war gonna catch tha guy
But he has ta swims tha river first
Than tha horse done gived a whinney
Un walks up ta tha man
Nuzzlin tha fellers cheek
An pawin tha white san'
Ah sez "I's sorry
If'n I's buttin un"
Tha ol' man done shakes his head
Tilts his hat un sez "No mam"
"We's jist un a journey
Un sides ta takes a break
Ut war kinda perty here
So we's jist sits here un tha shade"
"Horse youse jist stops ut
Her ain't did nothin wrong
Her jist likes ta listen ta
Tha little feller's song"
"Dog youse cumes back here
Youse don't likes ta swim
If'n youse two don't calms down
We'll be's un er way again
"Well ah's sorry mam
Ut's still perty early un tha morn
But ah guesses Wild Lighten un Duke
Er ready ta goes un with er journey bourne"
Thanks Bob Hinshaw for the idea
Copyright © Marycile Beer
Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster was steadily on the move.
He was leaving the Southwest and his reputation behind, for sure!
Every gunslinger was out for him and of killing he’d become tired.
Even the weather was being surly, as a dust storm was blowing wild.
Traveling way too long, he came across a town he’d never seen before.
The sign said ‘Welcome to RotGut, Rest Here, We’re a friendly town.’
Shelter he was a seeking, in that town of RotGut, only one night, to tell.
His horse enclosed in the livery, he entered the saloon, out of the wind.
The piano was a playing, a lively tune as he, slowly opened up the door.
Everyone stilled, as him they did peruse, as he wandered up to the bar.
The ruckus resumed quickly, as he stated that he was, just a passing thru.
The whiskey tasted mighty sweet, a smell of it lingered in the air, too.
The girls were friendly, so he bought one some, as a patron eyed him on.
A deck of cards flashed in the gamblers hands, as a six-gun laid beside.
The gambler waved him over saying, it’s been kind of dead here, of late.
Surprisingly, no one seemed to know him, no one trying to make a name.
Relieved no one would have to die that night, he joined the poker game.
The night became finally peaceful, as he was welcomed into the game.
Around 2 in the morning, the whiskey and trek was taking its toll, a shame.
He climbed the stairs to his room, lulled asleep by the sounds downstairs.
Morning dawned bright and early, with the dust storm long gone away.
And the room looked, Oh So Different, within the new light of the day.
Curtains faded and shredded, limp with dust, a room full of decay…
Abandoned eons ago... The banisters in the hallway were broken apart.
The saloon downstairs was disheveled, with barely anything left in tact.
Only the table in the corner, seemed to have withstood the test of time.
And sitting right there, at that corner table, a deck of old cards remained.
Not a speck of dust was upon them, as he tipped his hat, a final goodbye.
Then he moseyed out to the livery, which was in equally bad disarray.
No one had been here, in neigh on forever, was all that he could tell.
A dried up old western town, with tumbleweed blowing everywhere around.
Still he left a tip for the care of his horse, for he wouldn’t be unkind, of course.
He left the town of RotGut, a lonely and eerie oasis, in the bright light of day.
At the edge of town he tipped his hat, to RotGut, for the kindness… displayed.
Copyright © Carol Eastman
P assion and love
I nstilled in the hearts
O f the weary
N ever giving in to the
E agerly pushing forward
R elying only on each other and Gods strength to survive
Copyright © Rick Parise
Rise at first light.
This cowgirl enters up to ride this day.
She dawns her hat, for this is not any day.
Ready to pay her dues.
The sun will beat down,
hot and hard is how she'll ride.
Into the shoot we go.
The blood pumping, muscles quivering.
Ready to go!
The gate slams open.
Off we go!
My mustang and me,
to round that first barrel.
Away we go!
Rounding our second barrel.
Thundering down to that third barrel.
We round that barrel,
the dust will follow.
With a war cry,
We head down the long path home.
Followed by cheers and jeers,
she crosses the line!
Cowgirl is up and paid her dues.
Copyright © Gypsyof Essence
Unlikely the explorers of the Wild West,
I'm bound for sheer adventure, not amazing discovery;
finding gold is far from any quest
while this clanking, slow-moving stream locomotive
will take me to places so primitive...
even a small ghost town has tales that conjure mystery!
Whistle along train as your steam puffs...
reaching clouds and turning them into raindrops,
California is still a seeker's dream for the unhappy folks living
in bustling cities enduring noise and pollution;
soundless are the canyons drifting
by without any fearless cowboy riding,
but the watchful coyotes will resent this intrusion...
whenever your whistle startles them when they are napping!
Whistle along train as your steam puffs,
I didn't bring along a single book to read not to be distracted by reality,
only a huge map showing me historic towns...
where daily shootings were as common as drinking whiskey!
Imagine seeing the ghosts of Billy the Kid and Jesse James
roam the dusty streets ready to start a gunfight;
see crowds gather and wait for the winner to shout...
it's like watching a Clint Eastwood's western movie drawing his guns!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Saying your a rodeo rider
Makes it sound so much fun
But living hand to mouth
I assure you isnt fun at all
Make sure your timid horse
Is well fed and warm
Your second in this pecking order
Keeping well is your aim
Driving from one venue
To another i assure you isnt good
But the visions that you see at night
Makes the journey understood
The rising and the setting sum
Is a feast for the eyes
A mental picture that you carry
When your mouth is dusty and dry
When saddling up that muscular horse
To ride into the arena
An adrenaline rush is prevalent
To ride those 8 seconds clean
The satisfaction of big money
When winners are announced
Makes all worthwhile for you
To saddle up for another event
So I tap my hat
Pack up my gear
Pick up a six pack
A few hours to sleep.
Before the next journey
So watch out
A Rodeoman is coming to town.
Copyright © SEREN ROBERTS
Clad in boots and jeans with hat and gun
The cowboy ready for a long day run
A stallion for his ride, rope on his side
Diggin' tappin' taming on the vast terrain
Tending herds of cattle, sheep and cows
Sweat dripping unhidden to his brow
Browny tough and skilled Rodeo man
Soothened the bull on his crazy dance
Crowd cheers - a resonating clang
Sunshine sleeps and night sky creeps
With guitar and cigar, the Cowboy sits and sings
Humming: Yodelay -hee ho! Yodelay - hee ho!
(c) Olive ELoisa
April 30, 2014
CONTEST: HOWDY PARDY
SPONSOR: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo
He rode into town one sweltering day,
He seemed to be in deep thought.
His quietness was very much in display,
In reality he was very distraught.
Tanned from the sun to a high degree,
Appearing parched from the amazing heat,
He remained in the saddle, totally carefree,
His journey was now complete.
No one knew where his journey commenced
Nor what was his purpose at hand.
Solitude was all that was here dispensed,
All wondered what he had planned.
Then as quickly as he had arrived
He nudged his tired horse on.
The town had from danger all survived,
The stranger was suddenly gone.
Copyright © DrJim Martin
I do not know?
Screaming silently for that one breath
that whirling maelstrom of beaten-down loss upon wrap-around defeat
that mercilessly shovels heaps of leaden rubble as you try to get back on your feet
mute and dumbly flailing in the raging torrent
but a mere speck of dirt on the tapestry of a world, that at times, is quite abhorrent
quietly wishing to surrender to the nothingness that seductively beckons, as you gasp
hoping against all hope that a lifeline would appear suddenly within your grasp
yet caught in the ghastly waters of unchartered isolation
a trickle of hope amidst the gushing liquid of sheer desolation
whilst holding on to slivers of sanity when blistering madness calls out to you
faltering weaknesses snap and gnaw at your state of being, out of the pristine clear blue
i have felt the pull of life's devious current as it has stripped me of my self and left me naked and bare
i fight with every suffocating breath left within
to surface and to cling onto
another gulp of life's coarse and putrid air...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses
I've been on this journey for over a year , it's hard to imagine. For a whole year I have held
the reigns up here on the wagon. It's a long trip down a winding mountain road. My foot is on
the break, can I control this heavy load? I had lots of doubt when I started this journey.
Would I misjudge the next curve and wind up on a gurney? Up the next steep grade will my
team stumble and fall? Down the upcoming grade will the break hold at all? The road is long
and down it I trod. Riding shotgun ,is my good buddy God. So I will hitch up my team and
take the reigns everyday. Before I lay down, I will humbly pray. At every sunrise I will ask
him to guide me. I will follow his will down life's endless highway. Remember the road you
have traveled behind you. The end is far but don't let it blind you. Stay on course, remember
your task. God will grant you new life. You just have to ask.
Copyright © mike stagner
Canyon winds caress the soul
Grazing sheep warm the heart
Dine' children play in the creek
childish giggles that make us laugh
With you here beside me
The journey begins
The horses nicker
breaking the silence
Silence wraps around us,
Mother Earth holding us to her
As we journey deeper
Ancient drums begin to stir
Can you hear the Ancients calling?
Welcoming us to the tribal fire
Dancing in celebration of our Love
Copyright © Catherine Devine
The desert breeze
Blowing across sun baked sands
Lifeless eternity going off in all directions
Tracks of wagons show through beneath the blue skies
Centuries of dust lifted into the air by swirling winds
Covering every trace that life was ever there
Heat as hot as any oven roasts even the strongest soul
Water holes that were there one day
Dried up overnight
Surrounded by the bones of horses left behind
And the graves of a few men
Buried by love ones left to suffer
How did they make it?
What made them push on through Hell on Earth?
In the distance there were mountains
Maybe a day away
Most likely a month
Snow covered peaks tempt the soul
Plush with the tallest trees draw them to the west
With rivers flowing like strings of jewels
Rolling down moss covered rocks
Toward the deep blue green sea
The smell of the pine
The clean scent of a waterfall
Drifts across the empty sands
Filling the few left with hope
People and horses struggle
Suffer through pain unimagined by others
Hours, days and weeks more
To stand at the foot of the Rockies
And get a look at the Promised Land
So they will suffer no more
Copyright © R. e. taylor