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Mystery Cowboy Poems | Cowboy Poems About Mystery

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

Details | Cowboy | |

No One Knows Where the Longhorn Goes

No one knows where the longhorn goes,
When his breed is scattered and few—
He once was king of the cattle ring,
But his time in this world is through. 

We all must go where longhorns go,
When the bone moon falls from the sky—
We will not hide when we ride no more
And the longhorn goes off to die.

Our land must be where longhorns live—
Where we all seek our destiny—
This once was land still full of sand
With longhorns far as you could see. 

We all must dream what cowboys dreamt
When they looked out upon the West—
We all should lead the life we need
As we follow the trail that’s best.

We all must go where longhorns grazed
On a ride through the green grass sea—
We all must lead and protect our creed—
But most of all, we should be free.

The path is hard, but we will climb
Up that hill where the longhorn goes—
Though the trail is long, it is not wrong, 
When we know what the longhorn knows.   


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The White man

He was young,
Had his guns on his hip.
Walkin the streets,
With a cigar on his lip.
The town folk were scared,
They knew what he could do.
They have seen what he done,
To a chosen few.
The leather he wore,
Was stained from the powder of his gun.
A sign of the battles,
That the slinger had won.
A family moved in,
That no one knew.
A white man,
And a wife that was sious.
The young man decided,
The lady would not survive.
Because of her color,
She would die.
In the street,
In the middle of town,
This is where the slinger,
Where he gunned her down.
The white man,
Anger in his eyes,
Decided to give the slinger,
A surmise.
Leave this town,
Be gone by noon at best,
Or feel a bullet from my gun,
Deep in you'r chest.
The slinger smiled,
I am too fast,
You are an ole man,
You'r time has past.
You'r time has come ole man,
Take you'r stand,
But I tell you now,
Better have a fast hand.
When the smoke cleared,
The slinger lay on the ground,
With the white man,
looking down.
The slinger had just one last request,
How did you learn to shoot that way?
The white man answered,
I'm the son of Doc Holiday.



Details | Free verse | |

funny man on the moon

heres how i see it
and heres how it is
living in this world where half of it is advanced
with indoor plumbing
television
stereos
cell phones
computers
and a huge chunk of the globe is not
part of the world still has a hole in the floor for a toilet
and we say ignorance is bliss
oh funny funny man on the moon
the joke you really meant in the Hollywood basement
of one giant step for man
and one leap for mankind

Have we not clued in yet?
Do we not live blind leading the blind?
Am i the only enlightened who realizes
that we were in space probably 70 years before we made it public to the world 
and Nasa is full of it
oh funny funny funny man on the moon
why is society so gullible to think
that the governments technology hits the mainstream market
before they use it for years and perfect it and work out all the bugs
and then hands us something that just looks faulty
and we fall for it hook line and sinker

give me a moment
funny funny funny us
half the world buries their waste
and we flush it away
half the world has technology and half of it is in the stone age
and yet we seem to think
that whoever invents these things has no ties
or affiliation to putting us under their thumb
i mean come on do the math
they landed on the moon
how they tell you they send sattelites into space is a truth within alie
they made up 50 years ago
and were falling for it today

let me play
i get it 
society is dumb
I'll write something yesterday
say i wrote it today
no one will know what to believe
I'll even put a cowboy hat on
I'm sure those cowboy western movies
they had just as many cameras and cellphones
but didn't release them in the market

consider yourself a fool
if you don't think they don't have something in their pocket full of tricks they are 
working on right now
they're going to sell to the future
and no one gets the famous joke
the man on the moon told to the mensa geniuses
but a hush fell over the crowd
and I'm sure there was consequences for laughing
and chances are even they were blinded by the bling
life and blind leading the blind
such an easy concept to grasp
and man on the moon
your a funny funny funny man!



Details | Sonnet | |

when We Hallucinate our known fear

When we hallucinate your known 
fear,
In the act of offsetting the 
spiritless stouthearted 
wherefore, Forworning ownself 
from its sacrosanct , 
Much less to these rangers; from 
rescission, It is risked to be 
answerably clear of the 
recidivistion,
on our ragout heads, Wouldn't  
that of yours beg the question 
read, In a beige gloom gown, 
lest 
the snag the unbeknownst 
bokon,
By its saracenic harem we're nigh to the alopecia, as trying tardy in 
some doubtful ways, Men left 
out in its tincture realms, spun in 
the air like a coin to come to face 
the face,Grappling with, It is 
hoped, Kinglet soupcon enlace, 
Estranged from what has 
besought men engendered.


Details | Cowboy | |

The Pox Man

Oh, he rides though forest, he rides now through the hills—
The Pox Man is coming and he kills and he kills…
He lays waste to the red man and the white man, too—
He brings that soft darkness to both me and to you.

It may come with blankets; it may come with his horse—
It marks and gives you fever to run out its course.
He’s a tall, solemn scarred man that fills you with dread—
He may spare you your life or he’ll leave you for dead.

Oh, turn from the Pox Man – to him you do not pray,
His mercy is random, he has little to say.
He will ride off now soon - touch the weak with his breath—
He’s giver and taker – yes, we know him as death.


Details | I do not know? | |

Cowboy

So strong and self assured
He rides alone always wanting more
Never satisfied with what's between those fences
His spirit will wake up your wildest senses

By the cross and thorns that is emblazoned on his arm
His substance runs deeper than his cowboy charm
A tame Christian man with a spirit wild
A man of God, he is your child

His reckless nature will never subside
Yet humble he still has his foolish pride
His heart is bigger than the tallest mountain high
And you feel weak when you look into his eyes

His hands so rough yet so soft to touch
For him no ride is ever too much
He welcomes the mystery that comes in the night
A lover at heart born ready to fight

The complexity of this cowboy man
Every woman dreams with him she would stand
Alone, looking at the midnight moon
In her dreams, she whispers...sometime soon

 






Details | Cowboy | |

Her's

It sat way back in a thicket of of pine and oak
with the roof falling in and all the windows broke.
with brush as tall as the roofs eve,
to find this one could not believe.

I was chasing down this ferro calf,
as I went to dally, the rope snapped in half
dazed from the rope that bounced off my head
and hoping that would die, just left me seeing red

heading back to grab a new rope
is when my horse broke from his lope
he must have seen the same reflection as i
i saw the house, i thought who built here and why

I walked in just to check things out
all hand crafted furniture, they sure made em' stout
 kicking though the dirt, was an old pair of spurs
aged from time i could only make out the word her's

an old letter, newspaper and the spurs was all i took
as i rode away i gave the ole house one last look
just as i left the canyon, i swear i heard a girl cry....
and only for that instant, my throat had went dry...

feeling uneasy about taking what was not mine
i searched for hours and could not find that thicket of pine
it was as if the house was not there
then a coyote cry came from nowhere..........

back at camp, I didn't know what to say
that old spanard saw the spurs and rode away.
yelling something about a cry from above
and never mess with true love.........??????

to this day i do not venture out,
my foot that kicked up that spur, is infested with gout.
everytime I look at those spurs
I hear the cry that must be her's...........




Details | Cowboy | |

Carousel

Whenever I see a horse decked out in fancy tack
or going round in circles, it always takes me back
to a part of my childhood I remember so well -
riding the carnival’s calliope carousel.

We’d purchase the tickets and the minutes we would count
until that gate opened and we’d race for our own mount.
The horses were all decorated in brightly colored array
and my favorite was a jumping horse, a big dappled grey.

It was exhilarating fun to sit on that equine toy.
I’d fantasize about me being a rootin’ tootin’ cowboy.  
I loved the happy music as the racing horses spun
and I hated to dismount when the carousel was done.

Some kids would only ride for five minutes or so,
then they would lose interest and off they would go.
But I wouldn’t leave until they finally shut it down.
It was a circle of happiness, that wonderful merry-go- round


Details | Cowboy | |

The Return of Dan McGrew

Some of the local thugs were tipping their mugs in the Malamute Saloon;
The music box sat still, as the keep slammed the till and wolves howled at the moon.
Then there appeared, right back of the bar, an apparition that no one knew;
Down in the dumps, that once Queen of the Trumps, sat the lady known as Lou.

It had been thirty years to the day it appears, that the famed shooting took place,
As Lou saw the scar on the man by the bar, she slowly recognized his face;
She quickly clutched at her throat for he had gotten her goat as she turned blue;
Because for all the world, playing a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew.
The now old man that plays the music box was starting a sad waltz song,
When in drifted a miner cold from the creeks that had prospected much too long.

Though most of the gold had long left the fold, a miner’s dust still had some joys,
He relished his women, booze and smokes, and bought drinks all around for the boys.
His eyes were the eyes of a man half-dead – a man that the world’s forgotten;
And Lou did think she’d seen him before, but lately her memory was rotten.
He toasted her health and counted his wealth, then drank long with that sodden crew;
And we wished him good cheer, then hoisted our beer to Dangerous Dan McGrew.

(cont.)


Details | Cowboy | |

A Cattleman's New Year

There was just the wind 
in the tall swaying grass, a whisper
and no other sound.
The cattle were fed and 
we were on the way home
when we saw a newborn calf on the ground.

The calf flicked an ear, but stayed 
in his spot where his 
mother told him to stay
when we had called 
with the honk of horn
to come as we threw out the hay.

Now we watched, while the day 
had come to its close the sunlight
lengthened and died
the air was filled with a cows low
moan and she ran as her newborn replied.

We sat holding hands as the 
evening crept in and the stars
stood out in the sky
sharing that moment, a breathe in time
and a bovine lullabye.

Our New Year unfolded on the prairie
that night with a little black calf
on the ground, the whisper wind
in the tall swaying grass, a whisper 
and no other sound.


Details | Cowboy | |

Some Place That Used to Be

It’s some place that used to be
Where all things would fall twixt—
A beat, battered, broken shell
Off old Route 66.

He rode a Silverado
That was a dusty gold,
His clothes were worn and ragged—
Their style was odd and old.

They watched him as he walked in
To Wally’s Waffle Place—
With silver spurs that jingled,
A hat that hid his face.

He strolled up to the counter
And placed two gold coins there—
“I’ll take a big heap,” he said,
“Of yer fine dinin’ fare.”

Well, he sat down on a stool—
Pulled makin’s from his vest—
“No smokin’!” growled the waitress,
“This here ain’t the Old West!”

Well, the stranger tipped back what
Looked like a cowboy hat
And then slowly rolled his smoke
And grinned just like a cat.

“I don’t mean no disrespect,
But this here’s open range—
Though I must of wandered off,
‘Cause you folks sure is strange.

“See, I had to leave my hawse
When he done pulled up lame—
Then found that hawseless carriage—
Got me here all the same.”

It’s some place that used to be
Where all things would fall twixt—
A beat, battered, broken shell
Off old Route 66.

“Seems some things has changed ‘round here—
They caught the James Gang, yet?
And how ‘bout Wild Bill Hickok?
He’s still real fast, I bet!

“And what ya hear of Custer
And all of his good friends?
Heard he’s clearin’ our country
Of all the Indians!

“Reckon I’m out of touch some—
Been ridin’ ‘round so long—
It feels like forever
And that now I don’t belong.”

The waitress stared – told the cook
To dial up 911—
She knew something was not right
With this old cowboy son.

“Now, we don’t want no trouble,”
She stated in soft words—
“But all I want is my grub,
‘Fore I rides to the herd.”

“Say, mister – you all right?” that
Waitress asked all concerned,
But then she saw his six gun—
“Well, now I’ll be goll-derned!”

Then that cowboy disappeared—
The Silverado gone—
With tire tracks toward the desert,
Lost in the purple dawn.

And so all the legends go—
But these are just the facts:
They say they found that old truck,
Then just a horse’s tracks.

So when you go to Wally’s—
If that’s what you must do—
You’ll find a deserted shack
Closed in 1992.

It’s some place that used to be
Where all things would fall twixt—
A beat, battered, broken shell
Off old Route 66.

   
   


Details | Cowboy | |

Ghost Dance

While the Ancestors worshipped 
   they shot them one and all. 
They thought they had stopped the dance 
   as they watched the Old Ones fall. 
 
But what they did not know 
   is that we do not die... 
Their bullets set us free 
   and sent our souls to fly.   
 
High above this shadow plain 
   where the spirit beasts do roam; 
We roost upon their sacred backs, 
    and the Buffalo carry us home. 
 
We dance for our lives 
   for the secrets of the Earth. 
We dance while they kill us 
   and through death find rebirth. 
 
We dance night and day, 
   to the drums thundering low. 
Singing medicine songs 
   to honor the Buffalo. 
 
Though we may not rise today 
   The People will not die; 
As long as we keep dancing, 
   the Ghosts...You...and I. 

We dance for the things for which we yearn; 
Grass covered plains, the Buffalo’s return. 
The fever of freedom forever will burn,  
While we’re dancing with the ghosts. 
 
For there is no time frame on prophesy, 
This is the Vision Great One gave to me, 
The Heart of The People will always be, 
Dancing with the Ghosts...


(Wado Waya Streeby for understanding.)


Details | Cowboy | |

Top Secret From The Poetrysoup Undercover Agent: Re, Aliens

Keep this under your hat, guys....I'm just back from an undercover investigation of 
what turned out to be a real hidden nest of Alien invaders....they foolishly made 
serious strategic mistakes, which, of course, your favorite spy here, caught on to 
immediately.  Quick recap.....remember, this is on the Q.T.!
  I penetrated an alien cell in the Vassar Brothers Medical Center in upstate New 
York.  I'll explain how.....shhhhhh!!!!!.....I was admitted under the pretext of 1)being 
dead 2)mentally unbalanced!  Imagine that!!
   First thing I noticed is some of the alien technology thay failed to mask 
adequately....they were all walking around talking with their shirt pockets...which 
somehow seemed to answer...now, that's just a plum give-away!!!!  Next, I 
noticed a plastic container hanging on the wall, marked, foolishly, I'd 
think...."Impervious Gowns"....yeah, right, like such a thing exists!  Come on, 
where'd ya get it, from Superman?  There were smaller clues too; like what 
earthling would have a bright red food blender/mixer hanging on the wall?  Come 
on. Martians, you can do better than that!!!!   But the clincher, the absolute proof, 
was when I finally peeked out the door....the whole buiding was totally round!!!  I 
was actually IN a flying saucer!!!!   Pretty cool, huh?  And the stuff they labeled as 
food was, certainly not of this earth....they even had something they 
euphemistically labelled a "Cheeseburger"?  It was obviously an alien child's 
plastic toy, or perhaps, a concealable weapon....it obviously would be fatal is one 
were struck with such a thing..... and I'll report on my O.H.S.A. investigation as 
well, next week.   And I escaped, undetected!!!  Pretty classy, right?  Okay- enough 
for now.....remember.....this is not to be discussed, officially, it did NOT happen, 
and my alias, (agent) Benjamin (call me Ben) Dover....report is now 
concluded....regards, Ben Dover!


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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Hole

I was born in a very small town in the middle of a vast, vast land. 
It was filled with ranches, cattle and grass and the world’s toughest breed of man. 
I was raised with the mythical western cowboy but he halts no mystery for me
for they were my friends, neighbors and some were my family. 
Large ranches leave little room, for things that bloom, that a cow will not eat up, 
the mystery is not in the cowboy but it is in what the cowboy loves.
In West Texas there stands a great giant hole a void where only the cattle grow, 
there are few schools and little to do, but work and watch the wind blow. 
It is a harsh land and it has culled many a man for not being tough enough, 
he will pack up his kit and hit the road go looking for something more to love.
I was born and raised and culled from there and for me the mystery goes on. 
I have given it thought for many a year just what is it that the cowboy loves. 
If you find yourself in West Texas stop in on any little town
where you can shake the hand of the world’s toughest breed of man 
and ask him what it is that the cowboy loves. 
He may share his secrets with you. or just say he doesn’t know, 
stay only a day then drive away get the hell out of that hole.
For it is a harsh but magic land were you must bring your own opportunely. 
So if your ignore my warning and give to the lure of the Prickle-Pear and Mesquite tree, 
then I’ll envy you, to be the few, who live in the hole where I so long to be, 
for I love and miss those tough hardy souls with there open hearts, who greet you so
gracefully. 
Maybe that is what the cowboy loves and it was always there for me to see


Details | Cowboy | |

A Day

He never thought
A day will come
Over his thirty years service,
He will be insulted
And kicked out
By his junior owner,
Last full week
Weather was freezing all,
But the junior owner
Enjoyed the whole week
With his feather pillows
And a healthy young body,
Delivered his message
A young lad came always
With his new order,
But a poor old life,
Feeds the cattle’s
And removed their mess.
It was a sunny day,
The sheep’s were grazing 
In the field,
He was standing on the rock
Looking into the sky
And speaking with someone,
I never seen you
But you are great.
Nobody had control
This Air is free,
I can breathe freely
Can sing and talk
I always embraced 
When it came to me,


Details | Cowboy | |

Texas Lullaby

Night air grew warm and stiflin’
And the lightnin’ flashed the sky—
As night herders sang those notes
Of the “Texas Lullaby.”

The notes came low and trembled—
Wailers did not yell or shoot—
Their voices rose on high now
To quiet cow and galoot.

The lightnin’ then grew brighter
Like an eerie prairie pyre—
It balled and jumped each cow’s horns—
The ghost of St. Elmo’s fire.

Those two night guards now sang on,
A soft song not made of words—
Syllables and tones to soothe
And calm down uneasy herds.

The cattle moved in circles
And then would have stampeded—
When a cow bawled for its calf
And that’s all that was needed. 

The rain came and lightnin’ ceased—
Herders sang softly and high—
The cows bedded slowly down
To that “Texas Lullaby.”

And on they kept a singin’—
Not on words did they rely—
Just tones and soft syllables
Of that “Texas Lullaby.”