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Cowboy Name Poems | Cowboy Poems About Name

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

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

Details | I do not know? | |

Doctor Hill's Bill true story

In a little West Texas cow town years ago
There was an  old doctor by the name of Hill
Little man, mild mannered, cheerful until made mad
He doctored old cowboys and drunks when things got slow
His usual cure was a kick in the butt and a pill
He had some regular people that weren't to bad

Doctor Hill had some that lived far out of town
On ranches and God awful places Doc was carried
There was one family that lived on a ranch way far out
There name was Brown
An old mother and two daughters not married
The old mother complained to hurt everywhere about

She claimed to be bed ridden, could walk as good as you and me
She fell out of bed one night, the sister did not know what to do
So the called Dr. Hill at ten
So late at night the got in his car to go see
He had been there five times before, he knew what to do
Laying there on the floor, she had done it again

Doc told them to get a blanket and a pillow and put them on the floor
He made a pallet for her and ten he said
"Let's roll her over on to the mat
Put the pillow under her head , then headed for the door
His little round face was turning blood red
Then he said, "Now damn it fall off of that"

Copyright © Danny Nunn

Details | Cowboy | |

Call Me Tex

When I was just a teenage lad, and growing up out west
I never wore a cowboy hat or fancy leather vest
Never put on cowboy boots or western shirts with snaps
Never wore tooled leather belts, much less a pair of chaps

To be in style the Ivy League was what one wore to school
A skinny tie and button-down was how you dressed up cool
We wore Weejun penny loafers and tapered chino slacks
The boys all sported flattops, kept up straight with wax

Rock and roll and sock hops, my dance was then the twist
Cotton-eyed Joe and two-step didn't even make the list
Good ol' Willie Nelson could hardly make a sound
'Cause the King and Frank Sinatra were the coolest guys around

But when I joined the service, and moved outside the state
It didn't matter where I went or if I spoke my name out straight
For a while I thought I had some kind of omnipresent hex
'Cause when I was outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
When I said over yonder, they'd all say “Over... Where?”
When I talked about a horny toad, I'd get a funny stare
It didn't matter if my name was Buck or Roy or Rex
'Cause when I was outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex

When they shipped me overseas, I thought that I would die
Couldn't get a Dr. Pepper there, or any Frito pie
When I wanted longneck Lone Stars, all they had was Beck's
And all those Europeans would always call me Tex
Any label kind of burned me, so right then I made the call
I'd learn to talk just like those guys, to hide my Texas drawl
I practiced on my diction, with elocution persevered
And soon the sideways looks and grins had finally disappeared

I traveled all around the world, got married overseas
Learned myself a few more tongues and got a few degrees
Now if I talk to British lords or English-speaking Czechs
When I masticate the lingo, they never call me Tex

Finally made it home one day, after way too many years
Came back to salute old pals and maybe share some beers
I wondered how the touch of time had treated all those lads
To my surprise, those preppy guys had all turned into their dads

Each one wore a cowboy hat and dandy leather vest
Some sported a bandana, some with bola ties were dressed
Some shod those M.L. Leddy boots with fancy pull-on straps
Each had a set of bootcut jeans and western shirts with snaps

Something then came over me, something that felt right
I heard my voice inside me say "Well boys, ain't y'all a sight!”
That educated accent that I'd worked so hard to gain
Had evaporated quicker than a light West Texas rain

I guess that you can travel, and learn lots of fancy stuff
But with friends who knew you when, there's no way that you can bluff
They might be polite with you, and humor you no doubt 
But you're better off to cut it loose and let it all hang out

They all let out a holler, yelling “Waitress bring the checks!
Give 'em to that ugly hombre yonder with the handle Tex.”
Now if I were any other place, I'd likely wring their necks
But when I'm home in Texas, then you can call me Tex

Copyright © Roy Jerden

Details | Free verse | |

Tears of My Heart

if poop could be named anything what would you name it?  id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor.  dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.

Copyright © Matt Poopenheimer

Details | Chant Royal | |

Mr. Leo Nickel Bar

As he walks by I stop and stare
It happens every single day
He catches me so unaware
And words just can’t convey
He’s perfect at it’s very best
I’m drawn to him like I’m possessed
There is no other that competes with him
His body is so sleek and prim
I wish on him like he’s a star
Who is this Adonis to real me in
His name is Mr. Leo Nickel Bar,

It may be hard for you to digest
If you met him, you would be impressed
Being around him should be a sin
With bloodlines like his, of course he’ll win
He passes all competition by far
A horse like him there has never been
His name is Mr. Leo Nickel Bar 

Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Cowboy | |


   I’m calling the Suicide Hotline, 
This sad Cowboy poetry is getting me down, 
I’m looking for a happy thought, 
But one just can’t be found. 

   I’ve got a case of Cowboy Melancholy, 
Depression of the deepest kind, 
A malady that causes Cowboy Poets, 
To think only in disparaging rhyme. 

   Perhaps you’ve not heard of it, 
It’s a little talked about affliction, 
That sneaks up rather slowly, 
And attacks a Cowboy’s diction. 

   It starts with Cowboys talking, 
About having to shoot their horse, 
Or the death of the very last Longhorn, 
And  Cowboy life having run it’s course. 

   They tell about being stomped by a bronc, 
About how women will break your heart, 
Don’t say there won’t be no more Cowboys, 
Please, just leave out that part. 

   Death, dismemberment, getting gored, 
It makes me sorrowful and morose, 
I tell you these gloomy Cowboy poems, 
Boarder upon the verbose. 

   Is there nothing to say that’s amusing? 
Or perhaps a bit light-hearted?  
Is Cowboy life, nothing but strife, 
And all about the dearly departed? 
   Does any one remember, 
When Cowboy poetry was fun? 
I tell you we got us a Crisis ! 
Quick ! Someone call COW-1-1 !!! 

   We need some recitation resuscitation, 
If Cowboy poetry we are to save, 
Go easy on that couplet verse, 
About Cowboys in unmarked graves. 

   Hook those paddles to our pencils, 
And everyone stand clear, 
Shock the daylights out of us, 
Till we write Cowboy poetry delightful to hear. 

   I vote we form a support group, 
With a name somewhat synonymous, 
A two-step Western program of sorts, 
And call it Cowboy Poets Anonymous. 

   I suppose I could surrender to the urge, 
Recite just one poem of despondent refrain, 
But I took the oath, and from this day on, 
From this Cowboy Curse I’ll try to abstain. 
   " Hi, my name is ________, (fill in the blank!)
and I’m a  Cowboy Poet... "

Copyright © 1999 Debra Coppinger Hill

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Rhyme | |

5. Billy, the Kid Part 2

Continued From:
4. Billy, the Kid

Yes he did kill but it was a justifiable sin.
If Billy hadn't killed them they would have killed him.
Some say he killed for vengeance but that was never his means to an end.
If he killed for anything it was for Justice for the murder of loved ones and friends.
Many don't speak of or even know this, but back then this is what all who knew him saw.
Legally sworn Deputy William H Bonney, sworn to uphold the law.
Billy was once a bonified lawman with full authority to issue warrants and make arrests.
He could kill in the line of duty without fear of prosecution, imprisonment or arrest.
The Law Was Sworn First To The Lawman To Ultimately Serve And Protect.
Billy was one of many lawmen known as The Regulators. 
They were law that Lincoln County would not soon forget.
Many today also jump to the conclusion that Bonney was Billy's birth name.
He actually didn't begin to use the name Bonney until a few years before he was slain.
Where the name Bonney came from 
is still the unanswered question that continues to remain.
This issue alone has been known to drive historians insane.
To Continue Go To: 
6. Billy, the Kid Part 3

Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster

Details | I do not know? | |

Wild Bill


Wild Bill Hickock was his name,
From Kansas he did come,
To the Black Hills of Dakota Land,
While the gold rush was on.


He already had a name as Marshall,
And one for marksman as well,
He only wanted to have some fun,
So he came to raise some___________.


Well listen to this story friends,
And you will understand,
How Wild Bill Hickock made his fame,
In this Dakota Land.

Wild Bill loved a game of cards,
At poker he was an ace,
He joined a game in a saloon,
A big grin on his face.

He thought he held a winning hand,
Two pair was sure to hold,
But, before he could show his hand,
A bullet stopped him cold.

A dirty bum named Jack McCall,
Slipped up behind Wild Bill,
Before anyone knew what was happening,
He'd been shot and killed.

Who hired him or just why he did it,
No one seems to know,
The only thing that is certain,
Jack danced at the end of a rope.


He already had a name as Marshall,
And one for marksman as well,
He only wanted to have some fun,
Now he lies there in the dell.

                    Cile Beer

written l975

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Rhyme | |

Buckle With a Name

He tells the kids of Tuff and Lane with Cody by their side
Headin to every rodeo just tryin to make a ride
The long nights spent drivin and sleepin in the car 
And every buckle bunny surroundin them at the bar

Every time he's lost and the bronc or bull has won
Havin a laugh behind the chutes and all the petty fun
The rides he's made the buckles won and the entry fees lost
To biggar, badder and better things that tried to buck him off

His story is long and painful it's filled with wrecks and rides 
About the miles traveled and all the teary eyes
He left it all behind him for a chance at golden fame 
Lookin at every rodeo for that buckle with his name

Copyright © William Retzleff