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Cowboy Lonely Poems | Cowboy Poems About Lonely

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

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Details | Cowboy | |

A Lonely Christmas

I walked up to the bunkhouse, beneath a cloudless sky,
searching to find the Christmas star, still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm but lonesome with no other cowboys there.
They had all gone home for Christmas. I pretended not to care.

Christmas carols on the radio brought back thoughts of the star
that had shown down on those pastures in that Eastern land so far.
Taking off my vest and Sunday shirt, I threw them on the trunk.
I stripped down to my underwear and crawled into my bunk.

My day had started early. I had worked hard with the crew, 
so they could start their Christmas fun, when all the chores were through.
With no wife nor kids to need me, I had told the rest I'd stay
and watch out for the cattle.  They could have their Christmas Day.

The warm room made me sleepy and I started into doze.
Right there before my astounded eyes, the Christmas Star arose. 
I was a lonely shepherd in that land so far away,
who had been left to guard the sheep until the break of day.

I heard the angels singing and saw the moving star.
I marveled at the beauty and glory from afar.
The bright star beckoned to me and angels led the way
to where the future king of all lay in a mound of hay.

I wanted so to follow them but I had pledged my word.
I had to turn  a deaf ear to the messages I heard.
I knew my solemn duty lay in guarding helpless sheep.
I prayed the Lord's forgiveness but the vigil I must keep.

The star reflected in the eyes of creatures all around,
waiting for the lonely stray or any sheep they found.
I could not shirk my duty to seek Him out that night, 
but I knew I never would forget that glorious, wondrous sight.

I had that dream some years ago, but should that star reappear,
I've hung my rope and saddle up.  I can follow with no fear.

Posted: 12/1/14  For "One of your best" contest

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

The Cowboy

Your hair is the meadow grass
Your eyes the big sky
The lines carved on your face
Speak the cruelty of the place
You call home

The saddle formed your stance
Ropes, your calloused hands
Your quiet confidence tells me
Of months spent on the prairie
All alone

Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

EVERY LONELY COWBOY

In the old, wild west
every lonely cowboy
stopped to rest at a crowded inn
surrounded by bare
rocky hills; he blamed it
on the greedy pioneers.


Traveling wasn't easy, not because
of coyotes or deadly
snakes that hid, or slept
in the blue stern grass......
they had to look out 
for those Indians.


In the old, wild west
every lonely cowboy 
always left his loaded gun
close to his bed
for a quick draw...unless it was
a loud brawl coming from the floor below.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Lonely Cowboy

I'm Just a Lonely Cowboy
I Ride the Range at Night
The Thoughts I Have of You
Could Set a Herd to Fright

You Took All of My Money
It Wasn't Very Fair
I Sure Did Love Ya, Honey
With Your Golden Yellow Hair

Your Eyes Were Blue and Innocent
Your Lily White Hands So Small
I Thought I Was a Big Man
At Least Nine and a Half Feet Tall

Well, You Took Me down a Peg or Two
Just the Other Night
When I Caught You with 'Old Cody
And We Had a Hell of a Fight

He Came out the Winner
Of Course I Knew He Would
It Didn't Change a Thing
You Just Weren't Any Good

You're a User and Abuser
Of Every Kind of Man
I Just Wish I'd Known it
I'd Have Never Touched Your Hand

So I'll Count Myself Real Lucky
To Be Away from You
You Got Me and I Learned
Good Women Are Very Few

I'm Just a Lonely Cowboy
And I Ride the Range at Night
But I'm Glad That I Found out
Some Women Aren't Worth the Fight

And If I Find a Woman 
That Will Treat Me Fair and Right
I'll Ride That Lonesome Range
And Have Good Thoughts of Her All Night

Connie Moore
August 11, 1992

Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

Second on his List

Got the time to take a three-week break
Before the next 'hoorah'.
Spent most of his time on the ego line
With the girl behind the bar.
Mixed twenty years of her closet life, with the highlight now in town,
She left with him on a prayer and a whim, and a promise not yet found,
With rodeos and travelling shows
Through a hundred country towns,
The smell of fear and the taste of dust
Will never slow him down,
She tagged along 'cause her love was strong
And her dreams they still persist,
Now she knows those rodeos
Put her second on his list.

Every horse that came, looked the same,
Every cowboy’s just as mad,
And every time he took his second ride
He was travelling just as bad,
The money got scarce, so he gambled hard, and then he left her on her own,
She turned her back to the rodeo crowd, with her thoughts heading home.

She can't stand another caravan
For the walls close in on her,
Many lonely nights, alone she cries,
Rues the halter and the spur,
She tried to tear his heart away from the blood that bore his roots,
But the fire in her eyes could never match those there in the chutes.
With rodeos and travelling shows
Through a hundred country towns,
The smell of fear and the taste of dust
Will never slow him down,
She tagged along 'cause her love was strong
And her dreams they still persist,
Now she knows those rodeos
Put her second on his list.

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

Drowning

drowning...

Screaming silently for that one breath

of life...

that whirling maelstrom of beaten-down loss upon wrap-around defeat

of life...

that mercilessly shovels heaps of leaden rubble as you try to get back on your feet

drowning...

mute and dumbly flailing in the raging torrent

of being...

but a mere speck of dirt on the tapestry of a world, that at times, is quite abhorrent

drowning...

quietly wishing to surrender to the nothingness that seductively beckons, as you gasp

while...

hoping against all hope that a lifeline would appear suddenly within your grasp

drowning...

yet caught in the ghastly waters of unchartered isolation

feeling...

a trickle of hope amidst the gushing liquid of sheer desolation

drowning...

whilst holding on to slivers of sanity when blistering madness calls out to you

as...

faltering weaknesses snap and gnaw at your state of being, out of the pristine clear blue

drowning...

i have felt the pull of life's devious current as it has stripped me of my self and left me naked and bare

and still...

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 | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose | |

The Lonely Cowboy

The lone cowboy
Ridding his faithful
companion
Had to leave his
town behind
Galloping to the
west
Leaving a trail of
dust
He is wanted for
possession 
Never paid his bar
tab
He couldn't get the
whiskey down fast
enough
His role in life is
to be the lone wolf
Only trusting his
gun
Don't get in his way
He is not afraid to
stand up for his
pride
He's done it before
in a past life
Can't see the light
at the end of the
trail
The only light
reflecting off the
moon
No room for growth
You can tell by his
weathered face, that
hes had a tough life
A face that shows no
emotion
He was stripped of
them years ago
He figures he'll
make up for his sins
in the next life
Hes not afraid of
death
He has knocked in
deaths door more
than once, and ends
up just leaving a
note saying that
he'll be back later
He doesn't even know
what hunger is
anymore
Steals scraps of
flesh from the
vultures
But he'll always
have that thirst for
whiskey 
It being his only
friend
Goes from town to
town raising hell
and destruction
Anger burns deep
inside him
Cant relate to the
civilized folk
Family means nothing
Disowned him decades
ago
He has a calling for
control
To be in control
Is to be out of
control

Copyright © Miya Fontaine | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

A Lonely Christmas

The foreman and his missus
Had invited me to share
Their supper on this Christmas Eve
And to join their evening prayer.
Their little ones with shining eyes
Gazed at the Christmas tree,
Excited about their Christmas socks
And the presents they would see.
I walked back to the bunkhouse
Beneath a cloudless sky,
Searching to find the Christmas star
Still shining there on high.
The bunkhouse was warm, but lonesome
With no other cowpokes there.
They'd all gone home for Christmas.
I pretended not to care.
Christmas carols on the radio
Brought back thoughts of the star
That had shone down on those pastures
In that Eastern land so far.
Taking off my vest and Sunday shirt,
I threw them on the trunk.
I stripped down to my underwear
And crawled into my bunk.
My day had started early.
I had worked hard with the crew
So they could start their Christmas fun
When all the chores were through.
With no wife nor kids to need me
I had told the rest I'd stay
And watch out for the cattle.
They could have their Christmas Day.
The warm room made me sleepy
And I started in to doze.
Right there before my bugging eyes
The Christmas Star arose.
I was a lonely shepherd
In that land so far away,
Who had been left to guard the sheep
Until the break of day.
I heard the angels singing
And saw the moving star.
I marveled at the wonder
And glory from afar.
The bright star beckoned to me
And angels led the way
To where the future King of All
Lay in the mound of hay.
I wanted so to follow them
But I had pledged my word.
I had to turn a deaf ear to
The messages I heard.
I knew my solemn duty lay
In guarding helpless sheep.
I prayed the Lord's forgiveness but
The vigil I must keep.
The star reflected in the eyes
Of creatures all around,
Waiting for the lonely stray
Or any sheep they found.
I could not shirk my duty,
To seek Him out that night,
But I knew I never would forget
That glorious, wondrous sight.
I had this dream some years ago,
But should that star reappear
Ive hung up my rope and saddle.
I can follow with no fear.

Buy: Joyce  Johnson (Posted in Cowboy Poetry. Com Dec. 2007)

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

Concrete Cowboy

I am a concrete cowboy,
My horse is made of steel.
I drive these lonely highways,
A lot of time to kill.
I have no saddle,
No six shooters on my hip.
I have a steering wheel and shifter,
And a coffee cup from which I sip.
I listen to these tires whine,
As the lines on the road roll by.
I think a lot of the western days,
And the riders in the sky.
I have seven hundred horses,
Sitting under my hood.
I would give anything,
if beside one horse I stood.
I dream about the western days,
This is probably as close as I'll get.
I will drive down these lonely roads,
And my steel horse is where I'll sit.

Copyright © Charles Ruble | Year Posted 2008

Details | Cowboy | |

The Cowboy That Never Rode Home

In the palo verde and black chaparral lies,
A cross by an empty grave where no one cries.
It notes the lonely death of a man named Chance Roam—
Just a proud young cowboy that never rode home.
 
Far on a sparse hill it cuts the sky like a lance—
That pale, nearly white cross with just the name ‘Chance.’
He used to ride those hills and echo each valley,
Before he rode to war to make us all free.

Yes, his country called, like it had many before,
And he gladly went off to fight in that war.
There were no questions asked, no concern for the cost—
If none volunteered, our country would be lost.

Then one day the dreaded letter came, edged in black—
And we knew then, that he would never come back.
Be it rancher or mere clerk – all went off to war—
And while most returned – some would be seen no more.  

And long before there was a Memorial Day—
Our young men died for our American way—
From wars of revolution to wars of the world—
All of our soldiers fought with our flag unfurled. 

There are bright jade prairies of gray and white crosses,
That recount endless wars and many losses—
Now in meadows bloom reminders on each plain,
Marking names of those who have not died in vain.

In the palo verde and black chaparral lies,
A cross by an empty grave where no one cries.
It notes the lonely death of a man named Chance Roam—
Just a proud young cowboy that never rode home.
  
.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ballad | |

'It's A Cold Night - Cowboy'

I was driving home in my Pick-up
When I saw something Strange…
… a Cowboy Sat atop His Horse
Calling Someone’s Name

He trotted on the Moonlit Trail
The man’s Face, held no Shame
As Tears were rolling down His Jaw
I saw this, Very Plain…

I could tell He was A-Hurtin’
Something was Mighty Grim
I pulled up slowly Beside
… and I asked Him …

Cowboy … It’s a Cold Night
Why are you out on the Range?
There aren’t any Cattle Here …
And There are no more wild Mustangs

It’s a Cold Night out here Cowboy
For you to take a Ride
It’s a Lonely Night out here Cowboy
With Nobody at Your Side

It’s Somethin’ you never get Used To
You can Fake it… like You Do…
… But It’s a Cold Night out here, Cowboy… Come Inside…
It’s gonna’ get Colder, Soon… You Better Hide…

… At First, He looked at the Night Sky
and then, He Turned to My Face
and Underneath the Shadowed Brim
His Eyes looked Hard and Glazed

He said, “Hon, I’m a Rare Breed
I get Real Lonely in Town
I’m More at Home, where I Roam
and Hear the Wolf and Rattlesnake – Sound

I was Once a Rodeo – Star
Now, I’m just a Wanted Outlaw
And there ain’t Nothing You Can See
That I haven’t Saw …

… except, My Son,
 By my Ex-Wife – Annie
She Married my Once Best Friend, Sam
They Raising My Boy, Will,  to call Him Daddy …

… and I ain’t Seen my dog, Quickdraw
In 10 Days …
… and You Think, This Cold-Spell, Could Bother Me?...”
and then, He nudged His Horse, and Galloped on His Way…

… Well, by the Time, I made it into Town
There was a Real Big Traffic Jam
Police had Blocked Off a part of The Road
and then, I heard… ‘Bam ! Bam ! … Bam ! …

… it was then, I saw the Riderless Horse
Standing Still … but Untied
And The Outlaw, Clutched His Chest
… as He Died  … …

… and the Dog, Quickdraw, was Whining 
by His Side …

It’s a Cold Night out here Cowboy
The Prairie Breeze was Singing
It’s a Bad Night Out Here Cowboy
The Midnight Stars Were Blinking …

They Knew You were Headed into Town
So You could Face a Final Showdown
To try to find some Heat to Warm Your Heart
… was a Cold Night, when You Decided to Depart

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ottava rima | |

A LONELY SEEKING THE UNLONELY

Life has an unseen, funny side...
more thrilling than a pony's ride;
am I so discouraged and doubtful without a realistic insight, 
to give upon my half-won battles,
and the people who seem uncaring?
But does it mean that no flame is burning,
and the hands on the clock have stopped moving;
how long have you known me and didn't see my woes?




O friends, I don't mask myself under disguise,
and I don't hide beyond the false smiles to genuinly express myself;
anything I say or do is a pure delight and surprise!
Externally I may seem friendly and affectionate,
but internally I churn the bitter reality of my plight:
a lonely seeking the unlonely on the edge of a cliff,
where his voice is stronger than the hot wind;
a fearless voice echoing amid the massive and rugged canyons of the desert! 




Come rain, and soothe my thirst with your raindrops, wash my hands and feet
that need to rest after the longest and remotest jeourney;
in a dark cave, I will find refuge and by the crackling fire I'll sleep!
And peeking through the shadows, I'll see many stars twinkling to keep me company;
and what else, beside this guitar can cheer up a lonely seeking the unlonely?   
Huddled under this warm blanket, I'm too confortable to go hunting, although I'm hungry;
beer and chili are enough to fill up my belly until light shimmers through the thick fog,
then would I feel like a lonely seeking the unlonely...if the pelting rain inspired a song?


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Monoku | |

YODELING COWBOY

A lonely cowboy yodels as his echo joins him in a duet.



August 18, 2016

Copyright © Sonia Walker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric | |

lonely traveler

traveling with no lady
i dont have no baby
my passenger seat is empty
headin to my folks house
headin to the country
right now im feelin lonely

i want a love that i dream
i wish i had a lady with me
who i can love and share everything..

"but they call me the"

lonely traveler..
lonely traveler..
i need a lady to come home to
i want to share my love with you

"but the call me the"

lonely traveler..
lonely traveler..
my passenger seat is empty
i have no lady traveling with me
"im lonely"

i need someone
to fill the other part of me
i need a lady
to give me what i need

i need a travaleet
i need a juliet
this traveler is so lonely

"but they call me the"

lonely traveler..
lonely traveler..
i need a lady to come home to
i want to share my love with you

"but they call me the"

lonely traveler..
lonely traveler..
my passenger seat is empty
i have no lady traveling with me
"im lonely"

while im crusin down the rode
"as you can see"
she's flaggin down me
sexy lady ive never seen
she wants to take a ride with me
she asked me whats my name
"i said"
they call me
they call me...

the lonely traveler..
lonely traveler..
my passenger seat was empty
until you fill the other part of me

they call me the...
lonely traveler

Copyright © Michelle Edwards | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy | |

While I wait

While I wait

While I wait, thoughts long hidden
that I thought I'd never see again
creep into the living room
playing themselves round and round
 a seemingly endless spin
pushing and tugging me in every which direction
Seeming friendly, At first..
following me while I ride
	raining down from the sky
miles upon miles of them,
section after section.

Their efforts, to make the most noise they can
and convince me within the minute, 
to take a second look at them,
and relive their brief existence.
Words from friends, 
people and places I'll never see again.
Some silly statement I made as a kid
that through slip or trick will lure me out 
into resentment and hold me all night in its grip. 
Arguably insignificant turmoil,
the traces of forgotten language now erased 
from the physical world. 

Yet by will, still stalk and circle like jackals
eyes wide staring though white holes
of night while the winds 
blow and roll off campfire coals.
Waiting patiently for a chance
to drag their prey away into the night and the cold.
And all they need to win, is acknowledgment.
To go from dormant to a swarm of hornets
in that space right behind my face
	...when they catch me alone

Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cowboy | |

Out Riding

I have seen,
Time and time again, our rise and fall
But not what passes between. 
However, my reflection stays the same. 
As I ride through the brush and green mesquite
Late in the evening. 

And while the sun goes,
Spilling the sights, and casting shadows far in their elongated flight
Jetting towards the night
High above and below alike, 
another day is reclaimed by the west. 

And, within that balance struck
from up on a horses back 
lies behind the creaking tack
a way, past the minutia.
A place, where nights and days fade 
for the fluid movements between them. 

And so, begins a subtle breeze
	I hadn't noticed it before it had already past me
As if a response to the sun-day's sending 
gleaming rings like tangerine
And facing the applause I pause to watch
the wind run fingers through the hairlike grass
A tender act, quite loving in fact
As if this moment they share
along with a deep sadness to part.

However, they must know that the spring cannot begin
without either of them both
and so the grass and wind promise to unite again 
when the time is right.

No fear of the night
and heedless of their most distant dreams
Deepest sleeps
or even faced with the stark differences their lives have seen
	To find each-other, no matter the cold
and never let go
	of knowing high hopes can lead
to things far larger than them both. 

	-And perhaps someday 
		So will I. 

Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

The Lonely Cowboy

The Lonely Cowboy

I think I'll pack it in & buy a pickup head out to L.A.
 A seed that I planted in this pile of debris has suddenly blown away
 Borrowed pews to sing the blues while wearing blue suede shoes
 We we look out on the range to see what needs to be done
 The lonely cowboy goes undercover in a world full of feathers
 A storm outside was brewing do you all know what your doing
 His horse has discovered an exit stage left
 Took a shovel out to lift up the cows chips
 Looking outside he whistles a delightful tune
 He sheds a single tear to help numb the pain
 Outside in the rain while the coyotes would howl
 The lonely cowboy would so often look to the horizon
 The distant desert was barren next to the range
 A whole host of buzzards would fly overhead what a scene
 He's a drifter alone with no folks to help by any means
 He lost his family in the great flood what a nervous regime
 Could there be any hope for a dude hanging on a string
 Suddenly the heavens explode to let freedom ring
 Softly & delicately the cowboy sings a voice of rash circumstance
 He prepares for the great dance that's right in front of him
 Having a lone stray dog that he received as a young pup
 The cowboy chooses to fade out of the scene

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cowboy | |

Chinati

	Chinati

Out there, in the twilight
The furthest peak of the nearest horizon
a cold outline, silent
but more to feast the eyes on 
	Than a feast of fried eggs and bacon.
When, with what fades with each morning
	and holds my gaze with days closing,
		calls out to me from that afar,
I'll question such drifting.
Question living for turning on a dime 
	and riding days and weeks,
		arriving penniless and spent, 
without two cents to lend
	and only my own hat to eat;
While always looking back, towards Chinati.

Yet, at night while I sleep
	It cleverly holds care
		To only pester me politely, 
and not follow too close behind me
lest it pulls me from my tent at night
	and I wake up there
Thinking I'm dreaming.

Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016