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Cowboy People Poems | Cowboy Poems About People

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

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Details | Ballad | |

The Hustler and the Drunk

He stumbled in, as drunk as sin
with a limp and a nose full of red
He ordered cheap gin, and the blood dripped in
As he raised the drink to his head

He sat on the stool,and the drops formed a pool
He could feel all the eyes on his back
He guzzled the fuel, but he kept his cool
As he loaded the balls in the rack

He straigtened his gaze, yet still in a haze
and challenged the room to a game
Then through the maze, with a cigeratte blaze
The surly stranger came

His face was stone, He walked alone
With a beer and a black leather case
with a cue of his own, his cover was blown
On his wrist a tatoo of an ace

He said "I'll take", and he put up his stake
The lushes all gathered around
With a half hearted shake they flipped for the break
While the bartender poured out a round

The stranger broke, with a solid stroke
And down fell the four and the three
This guy was no joke, then he pinched from his poke
and cried out "the next one's on me"!

Ear to Ear grins, as they swilled down that gin
In this stranger, a hero they'd found
They cheered him to win, as he knocked those balls in
they cheered for another free round

He had it won, yes all but one
The eight was final ball
The table run, the lushes stunned
When that sphere refused to fall

Clinching his fist, shocked by his miss
He glared across the table
Like a ship in list from drunken bliss
to stand he was barely able

That drunk cracked a smile, for he knew all the while
That he only needed one chance
In appearance so vile, yet he shot with style
That Gin put him into a trance

His vision was blurred, he mumbled and slurred
Yet to win he would need just one more
And so much as a word, could not be heard
That stranger just stared at the floor

Well he sank that ball, and won it all
and he yelled with a bellowing groan
"before last call just one more tall
And the lushes can all buy their own!"

Copyright © Joe Inca

Details | Cowboy | |

One of Texas's Best

“Back in my day” his stories all would start
I’d  lean in close to listen though I knew ‘em all by heart
He was a living legend, one of Texas’ best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest

He fought along “RIP” Ford & John Coffee Hayes
When Texas was wooly & wild, back in the good old days
“One Riot, One Ranger” I’ve heard it said many times before
from fighting off Commanches to turning the tide of a range war

A Ranger never faltered, never imagined he could lose a fight
He’d  go hell bent for leather just to turn a wrong to right.
From Nueces to Salado Creek he patrolled the border land
Dealing out swift justice with a smoking Colt sitting easy in hand

Hardin, Iron Jacket & Sam Bass thought they could get away
The Rangers ran them down to ground, the stories still are told today
Great Granddad was a hero, one of Texas’s best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest

He passed on the legacy & the stories I’ll now tell
as I hear his voice echo when I start off,  “ I remember well”
So tip your hat & raise your glass to the Rangers out there on patrol
and to all the Shadow Rangers, Rest in Peace, God rest your soul

Copyright © Catherine Devine

Details | Rhyme | |

Lakota

I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.

Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.

Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.

A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.

We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.

On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.

Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.

We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.

Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Light Poetry | |

' El Toro - Rojo '

Como’ Si’ Yama’, Senor’
Como’ Si Yama’, Por Favor’…
… for Below That Embroidered Sombrero’
Shone Eyes Like El Dorado

He Was A Tall and Handsome Hombre’
Like The Range of Sierra Madre’
…Now, He Sat Center The Cantina
Surrounded by Bonita – Senhoritas

He Smiled, “Buenos-Dias Senora’”
Por Favor, Por Que’ El-Hora’ ?...
If So, Have A Seat, Mi- Amiga’
And Mercedes, Bring Over More Cerveza

He Was… Rodrigo Reyes-Pacheco’
Best - of The West, of Vaqueros’
He Came to Compete in The Rodeos
And Win Fame and Fortune in Pesos’

He Came Thru El Paso De’ Tejas
Thru Dusty Rancheros and Mesas
To Ride on El Toro Rojo
Who Has Never Been Ridden Befo’…

La Viva’… Arriva’  … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’ !... Rodrigo

Now, El Toro Rojo, Was Dangerous
For Killing Men, El Rojo, Was Infamous
His Horns Had Pierced Many A Corazon
Ripped Flesh, Like It Was Piñata’ Hung

I Informed All of This To Rodrigo
The Hombre, Was Bent on Being Macho’…
… He Would Ride Toro Rojo, Manyana’
Said “Gracias”… But My Cares Were Por Nada’ !

La Viva’… Arriva’… Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’!... Rodrigo

… Now, He Wasn’t Loco in La Cabeza’
I Just Didn’t Comprehende’ … “Que’ Pasa”
But I Saw Rodrigo Atop… El Rojo 
… ! He Rode Like A Latino – Tornado ! …

He Rode El Rojo, To The End…
Then, Turned ‘Round and Rode Him Again…
Rodrigo had Won… Just Like He Planned…
Because El Toro – Rojo …   …  Was Mexican !

La’ Viva’ … Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero
Champion Bull Rider from Old Mexico
Vaya’ … Con Dios ! … Rodrigo….
Vaya’ … Con Dios !... Rodrigo o o o o o


for Ruben Ortellao... 
I Don't Really Know 
What Your Branch of Humanity is... 
(Spanish, French or Other)
But I thought You Might Like 
This Whimsical Poem...  
Oh... And Thank You For Your 
Most Generous Comments... 
(Cause I Know You Are A Fantastic Poet... 
I've Read Several of Yours 
and I Love Them Too...)

 (P.S.  Excuse the Spelling... 
I'm Spanish Illiterate (Smile)
MoonBee

Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | Rhyme | |

My Rodeo Cowboy

papa said 
son what you going to do 
with your life

now that you have 
no money job 
or wife

he said papa
I'm going to 
leave this town

think I'll
join up with the rodeo 
and break them bulls down 

Maybe even rope
me a stallion or
even a clown

Son you better
take another 
look around

for theres no money
for bull riders
thrown to the ground

or being stepped on
by a horse or bull
weighing over eight hundred pounds

Papa I promise 
Ill make you proud
of your rodeo cowboy when I'm done

And promise 
not to be thrown or bucked off
to the ground

So papa please come
visit when our show's
in town

for I'll be 
the one riding high on 
the biggest bull that's found

hanging on for just 
eight seconds while I'm
listening for that bells sound

just kicking those sides
of horses and bulls
jumping up and down

with coming out your
top rodeo champion and
bull rider found



Tribute To
The Rodeo Cowboys 
and Cowgirls


Hang Tough

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Blank verse | |

I am a cowboy

I am a cowboy
riding in the dusk
I am dirty, sweaty, and rough
I am a cowboy
Riding in the dusk.
I am on duty
Employed by a mother,
To hunt the man who killed her son.
I am smokin'
I am spittin'
I am kickn' ass
I am a cowboy
Riding in the dusk.

Copyright © Tad Vincenzo

Details | Cowboy | |

Chance Encounter

   A thousand times I have heard, 
“There but for the Grace of God...” 
but until today that phrase, 
struck me as somewhat odd. 
 
   The old Cowboy who staggered by, 
was three sheets to the wind. 
but he swept off his hat before me, 
and at the waist did bend. 
 
   “Fair Lady, how goes your day?”, 
he asked as he deeply bowed, 
his face was flush, but his manner gentile, 
and he spoke clearly, though not loud. 
 
   The politeness of his question, 
had completely caught me off guard. 
I looked into his wind-burned face, 
and saw a look that was not hard. 
 
   “My day goes well, and thank you sir.” 
was my own courteous reply. 
As I gave a small curtsy and a smile, 
I saw a twinkle in his eye. 
 
   “Oh surely, Lovely Lady, 
you have truly made my day.” 
He put on his hat, caught his bearings, 
and sauntered on his way. 
 
   No one else along the street, 
looked directly at him or spoke. 
Some looked away, while others laughed, 
and and made him the point of their joke. 

   I alone had been blessed, 
only I knew what lay inside, 
for it had been revealed to me, 
what rumpled clothes and liquor hide. 
 
   I had seen a gentleman, 
a Cowboy tried and true, 
with manners most becoming, 
a Real Man, through and through. 
 
   I was allowed to look past the fact, 
that he was poorly dressed and shod, 
I had seen the inside of a Heart, 
and the Grace placed there by God.

Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill

Details | Cowboy | |

My Roots Run Deep

My roots run deep & strong here in this place you curse & scorn
I couldn’t think of a better place than here to have been born

you say this is a dead end town, where dreams whither & die
I know this town has nurtured my dreams, seen them soar & fly

You say the cowboy has left & gone, run off by urban sprawl
Yet every morning, I still hear the young calves bawl

you talk of crime run amok & people no one can trust
I choose my friends carefully & fight for the right & the just

You say this is no place to raise a child, that they’ll not learn respect
but its our job to raise them up, their course in life direct

You say that no one gives a damn about another’s plight
but I have seen this town come together to turn a wrong to right

You say this town holds you back & you will never gain success
I can feel her sing my praises as I aim to do my best

I will stay here in this valley & no matter where I roam
I know my roots run deep here & I will always come back home

Pack your bags & go on down the road in search of better grazing
One day you will come full circle & return here to your raising

For your roots run deep here too, though you may curse & shout
and roots, home & belonging are what life is all about


© October 2003

Copyright © Catherine Devine

Details | Lyric | |

Hard Headed Women

<                                        she's a hard headed woman
                                          lovin a soft hearted man 

                                          when they get together
                                          they join hand and hand
                                          for loves be glory
                                          in this fairy tales story

                                        
                                          for she's a hard headed women
                                          lovin a soft hearted man

                                          a hard headed woman
                                          lovin that soft hearted man


                                          though shes stubborn as an mule
                                          but can make that man still drool
                                          as he's so shy
                                          but  captured her roving eye


                                          for she's a hard headed woman
                                          lovin a soft hearted man


                                          a hard headed woman
                                          lovin that soft hearted man


                                          now don't you just think
                                          romance can start out as a wink
                                          even if it may be a little lie
                                          come on little boy now give it a try


                                          for she's a hard headed woman
                                          lovin a soft hearted man

                                          a hard headed woman
                                          lovin that soft harded man



                                      
                                          
My Next 
Country Western Song   LOL

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Lyric | |

Nashville, A Dog Gone Hit,

I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks,

Yea, here in the town called Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
They say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
but I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
though I sure hope it's worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

I've got them on the internet, downloading them is free,
I haven't had any right connections yet, but I'm hoping patiently,
gonna find me country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit, 
like pitching a horseshoe ringer, you know you just can't quit,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where even writers need to be,
no, I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
but I sure hope it's well worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers hope patiently,
Got some songs to pitch the singers, like me, they just can't quit,
like making a horseshoe ringer, knowing one of them could hit,

I've got them at Poetry Soup, where printing them is free,
log on in, enjoy the view, it's finger friendly as can be,
become a welcomed member, without any sort of fee,
no matter what's your gender, or your nationality,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
Gonna find me a country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit,
like throwing a horseshoe ringer, knowing you just can't quit,

Yea, I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Ode | |

Outrider, Churchill Downs

Outrider early morn,
When training hours are borne,
They are the needed arm,
Sun, cold, wind, rain or storm,

Outrider in the sun,
Whose work is never done,
Where horses on the run,
Keep bettors having fun,

Outrider in the cold,
Ones with hearts so bold,
Their stories often told,
Of skillful ways they rode,

Outrider in the rain,
Sha'n't wait the weather wane,
Is there to help again,
When loose ones run insane,

Outrider in the wind,
An utmost needed friend,
May everywhere they wend,
Such godspeed be with them,

Outrider in the night,
No fear, no fame, less light,
Night racing at its height,
Make safe the riders plight,

Outrider by and by,
Whether wet or weather dry,
They heed the riders cry,
They're the best, we can't deny,
Many "Thanks" we horsemen reply.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboys and Indians

He pulls his hat down low against the chill of the storm,
The numb fingers that hold the reins forgot what it was like to be warm;

     On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun, 
     Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son; 

The blowing snow and freezing rain steal his breath away,
But he knows that being a cowboy, it’s worth the price that you pay;

     A majestic, bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze, 
     With arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease! 

A worn out calf is stretched across his lap on either side,
Her head resting on his thigh just going along for the ride;

     He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation, 
     And for the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration;

Her momma just like him had been caught out in the gale,
It’s just another story to add to the cowboy’s tale;

     He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow, 
     That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo;

His face is hard and beaten from too many days in the sun,
From early mornings and late nights workin’ til a job is done;

     A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land, 
     The broken treaties and those who dealt with deceitful hand; 

But being a working cowboy surely has its rewards,
Riding forgotten country that has never been explored.

     With a sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away, 
     Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will not stray. 

By Tirzah Conway and Bob Hinshaw

The cowboy portion was written by Tirzah Conway and the Indian portion was written by Bob Hinshaw
   
     



Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Cowboy | |

Borrowed time


 
God shows us tht our life we live is 
borrowed 
To live ur life cuz ur not gauranteed 
tomorrow
he recently made a mistake tht 
forever changed our life   
He took away my cousin after only 
12 yrs of life  
well never get chance to   to see wht 
he could b
y take away good people tht this 
world really  needs       
So many people choose to live the 
wrong way
They take life they were givin for 
granted every day         
I dont kno if I can ever move on and  
forgive 
that cuz his mistake my cousins life 
wa short lived 
I been thru so much tht my heart 
has gone numb
my aunt has to suffer thru life w out 
her son      
Id give anything for the chance 2 hv 
another day 
2 tell him how much hes truly 
missed day after  day
To kno tht hes touched our hearts in 
a special way
its not fair tht his life was dealt w 
unlucky fate
 He will never b forgotten hes 
changed our lives forever
Im thankful for the time we got to 
spend together
well always remember his 
unforgetable legacy
 tht he truly is an angel tht we were 
blessed to get to meet   
 Losin him makes me realize tht life 
is to short 
To c the good in me I never saw 
before      
Tht I should  b happy w the life god 
gave me
To finally show.people tht person I 
can b
 to remember life isnt gauranteed 
tomorrow      
To do sumthin good w the time he 
let u borrow 
I want to let him know tht he didnt 
die in vain
Tht his life here made the world a 
good place        well never forget the 
day  god took him to c
that special place tht only angels like 
him get to b

Copyright © Elisa Gutierrez

Details | Rhyme | |

Kate's Place

"Well......Howdy, Cowboy!......So, where're ya' from?"

A whiskey thirst?? She'll bring you one
Dust off your hat, take off your spurs,
put down your gun,  and share a word.
Perhaps, you'd like a little more?
A  romp upstairs,  is a dollar more..., 
just up those stairs,  behind the door

    Don't hesitate to call her Kate
    She bets against the cowboy's fate
    and croons old songs to make a dime
    Someone else will haunt  your mind
    Kate's your gal.  One of a kind !

    She owns the joint,   the town saloon...
    She totes a gun, and wears a smile
    She doesn't play by any rules!
    She smells of booze, and strong perfume
    Was burned by love, and kisses spurned, 
    Is cured of dudes, will turn a cheek
    Ya think she's sweet? Don't cross that street...
    Red satin dress, her bosom spills,
    Her gun still smokes.  Six lovers killed
    A painted face, and lips of red
    But you can't forget, last night in bed... 

Who are these strangers, that circle the room?
Drenched in whiskey and dust of doom,
drinking it straight, in the dim saloon?
She holds all the power, a new silver dollar
A petticoat pistol, in the gambling squalor 
Ya'  can't escape ....... a date with Kate !



_________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Quatrain | |

Fancy Dudes

The work was hard out on the ranch, the days were hot an' dry,
An' fancy things you find in town had caught ol' Jim Bob's eye.
When evenin' came he'd sit the fence an' crave to see the sights,
To drive big cars to all the bars an' toast the city nights.

He had a gal he courted some, her name was Betty Lou.
She'd lived a spell in Angelo, had been to Lubbock, too.
Her face was fine, with freckled cheeks, her hair was done in style;
An' all her clothes had fancy brands that musta cost a pile.

Now, Betty Lou had set her sights to put her brand on Jim,
But he had things he had to do an' marriage weren't for him.
The world was callin'-out his name, he had some things to learn,
Some places that he had to see, 'some candles left to burn'.

Well, came a time, an' like you thought, he wandered off the range,
But ended up in Boston-town; now boys, that was a change.
He found a bar that looked real clean an' sauntered in the door;
He'as proud to be of Texas stock an' sallied to the fore.

A fancy feller slithered-up an' asked Jim to his place,
But when he put his hand on Jim's, he punched him in the face.
I guess that feller didn't know for what ol' Jim was known,
An' bein' green to city life, he'as best just left alone.

Right after Jim had took his shot that dude got mighty riled;
He punched Jim once an' kicked him twice, an' left him right defiled.
Jim left his mark, I guess you'd say, that feller's bloody clothes;
Cause when that feller swung his fist, Jim hit it with his nose!.

He'd never seen them fancy dudes, who act like girls an' such;
From what he knew, which wadn't squat, he didn't like 'em much.
He heard they'as sissies, frail an' weak, sashayin' as they walked.
They gossiped like some women-folk, an' giggled when they talked.

Well, when it all was said an' done, he helped Jim to his feet,
An' dusted off his shirt a mite, then smiled at him real sweet.
He told Jim 'bout a couple things he liked to do with males;
Now, one was such I won't repeat, but one was kickin' tails.

Well, boys I guess there's lessons here: be careful where you roam;
Don't wander off to Boston-town, if Texas is your home;
But if you do, stear clear of bars, an' this I would include;
Don't ever underestimate an' rile a fancy dude.

Copyright © Jim Fish

Details | Free verse | |

Wild, Wild West

Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West.

Copyright © Dylan Catalano

Details | Limerick | |

The Naked Truth

<                                our top story tonight is Lawyers
                                  a pain in the ass and real spoilers
                                  with  fancy cars homes suits
                                  fifteen hundred kaboot
                                  rather hire cowboy wearing just spurs






Entry For Carolyn Devonshire's 
Lawyer Limerick's Contest

GL All
                                  
                                  

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Free verse | |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013

Copyright © Smail Poems

Details | Quatrain | |

THE AMERICAN WESTWARD EXPANSION

The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.


Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace. 


And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure, 
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.


Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Couplet | |

Fastest Gun In The West

<                                      Now hold on there Tex !
                                        Let me get     dressed  !


                                        Let me saddle up my horse
                                        To trollop around this Halloween course


                                        Got on my chaps
                                        My spurs and cowboy hat


                                       Replica's of forty five's
                                       Riding on my hips very high


                                       With lasso in my hand
                                       This little cowboy has a plan
                                       

                                  
                                      So all you ghost and goblins
                                      It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing

                              
                                      And I'll be taking  loot for mummy
                                      And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy










                                                  Happy Halloween To All
                                   Especially little tikes who are so cute and small





Entry For 
Skat's 
Halloween Costume Contest
G.L. All
                                      

 
                                      
                                       


                                     

                                     
                                       

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Limerick | |

Trader Joe

<                           once there was a man named trader Joe
                             could do nothing with hair so let grow
                             under big coonskin hat
                             fleas tick and his pet rat
                             mercantile's just say Oh Hell No


                            once there was saloon name lucky spur
                            where traders brought in their hunted furs
                            in walks old trader Joe
                            miss Molly said let's go
                            now both itch scratch from leftover burrs

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Cowboy | |

Rodeo

Silhouettes and cowboy hats...stake their claim in time..
with cowboy boots and western suits...we also find...
those leather chaps, western tools, and those rodeos...
where cowboys ride those crazy bulls that go bucking to and fro...

Where wild bull heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
While the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Where cowboys are the shining stars in country western design...
as wild bulls and broncos full of spirit are the bucking ones of time...
Where spurs are often used on wild natures kind...
Yea, those wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind....

Where bronco heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
While the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Silhouettes and cowboy hats...stake their claim in time...
Cowboy boots and western roots...everywhere we find...
that cowboys are the shining stars in country western design...
and those great wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind...

Where wild bull heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
Where the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Where bronco heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
Where the fans in the stands are saying....
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"....

Yea, cowboys are the shining stars riding wild natures kind...
And those great wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Rhyme | |

My Greatest Gift

When I received the greatest gift,
Was Christmas when I was ten;
That present gives my soul a lift,
When I think of it now and then;

I didn’t see a box with my name,
When I searched under the tree;
 I thought my parents were playing a game,
And had hidden it from me;

I waited oh so patiently,
For my gift on Christmas Day;
And when mom put a blindfold on me,
I didn’t know quite what to say;

She marched me out the front door,
And held my hand so tight;
Just when I thought I could take no more,
I saw that glorious sight;

My dad was holding the reins,
To a horse with a big red bow;
He had ribbons tied in his mane, 
With a coat that seemed to glow;

I burst out into happy tears,
As I reached out to touch his face;
It’s a moment I’ve remembered for many years,
No other could take it’s place;

My greatest gift was “Lucky”,
My horse so tried and true;
And I hope you’ll be as lucky,
To have a gift like that for you!

Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Cowboy | |

' As Old As East Of Eden ... (A Cowboy Song) Cowboy Poem # 15


          Tears - Are As Old
         … As East Of Eden

           Pain - Is As Old
         … As East Of Eden

          Woes - Are As Old
         … As East Of Eden …

That’s Why The Cowboy … Rides West
And Disappears, Into The Flaming Sunsets …     ( Gen. 3: 23, 24 )

Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | I do not know? | |

New York Rodeo

No 8 second ride for these cowboys tonight
As they start in the morning, losing daylight
Their hats are now ties, tethering true
Not breathing in clean air as faces turn blue

Their motive, the green, but not of a pasture
Not men of free will, but now slaves to a master
When the bell rings, it’s chaos, not for a meal
It’s a dog eat dog city, with true faces concealed

They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys

Their fishing hole yonder’s now polluted with clutter
As their southern boy drawl’s replaced with a stutter
No chaps and no stirrups, no boots and no jeans
Their lives are now over, at the end of their means

The bull that they ride are the very stories they tell
From wall to wall bouncing, not sitting a spell
They are always in a hurry, no time for the rose
Not much of a cowboy or anything, I s’pose


They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt

Details | Cowboy | |

In the Long Ago & Used to Be

What do you see when you look at his face
Weather beaten & etched by hard work’s steady pace?
You see a broken down drunken old fool
I see a vaquero, a cowboy old school
These cattle, those horses, this land are his life
They helped him provide for his children & wife

The Vail brothers, Escalantes, Leons, Acosta, Andrada
From the X-9 to Del Lago, Rincon Creek to La Posta Quemada
Lopez, Etheridge, De La Ossa & Daly, all hard working men
Holding strong to the traditions of a life from way back when
From the base of the Rincons, their cattle once freely roamed
These Cowboys are the lifeblood of this valley we call home

I looked up to these men & others like them when I was a youth
They taught me to work hard, stand tall & always speak the truth
They rail at the developers who never seem to keep their word
Praying that they’ll still have enough ground to run their herds
They watch as suburbia comes flooding into a valley once pristine
As ticky tacky houses turn good grazing lands into an urban scene

The word out on the city streets is that the cowboy way is gone
But as long as there are horses then the Cowboy will ride on
Somewhere up in New River, a cowboy still rides out tonight
To gaze out over a moonlit range, far from the city’s blight
In Cascabel, an Old Vaquero & his grandchild working the pen
Are doing their part to see that the cowboy way never ends

What do you see when you look in his face?
Weather beaten & etched by hard work’s steady pace?
You see a tattered old man, shaky hands & blurry gaze
I see the heroes of my youth, hear the tales of the glory days
When cattle outnumbered people & Cowboys still roamed free
Back when the West was Wild, back in the long ago & used to be

Copyright © Catherine Devine

Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboy Legacy

There’s a legacy inside him,
As he sits upon his steed;
His heart is filled with honesty,
Not perjury or greed;

He rides the same old range,
That his father rode before;
And it’s been that way for forever,
A hundred years or more;

Pushin’ cattle, brandin’ calves,
That is a cowboy’s life;
Someday he may settle down,
And make some girl his wife;

He’s spent so many lonely nights,
Sleeping under the stars,
He hasn’t got a tattoo,
What he has are battle scars;

There’s a rip across his stomach,
From a rangy longhorn steer;
And even though it hurt like hell,
He never shed a tear;

He always outs on a brave face,
Emotions locked inside;
And for his cowboy heritage,
He feels only pride.

Copyright © Tirzah Conway

Details | Verse | |

How The West Was Won

<                         O ye how the west has gone won
                           now wipe those trails of tears my son
                           dance the ring of fire for fun
                           speak and learn native ways
                           learn not to speak with riffles gun
                           rustle bacon beans  Hey !






Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11


Entry For Dr Ram's 
Rime Couee's Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |

The Cabin-Memories

The cabin, shuddered in the cold,
But the way was tough, so none grew bold,
So the cabin shed a lonely tear,
The days grew into months then years!

One day a young couple wandered by,
And the rustic cabin, they did spy,
They were looking for a quiet place,
To set up home, a little space!

So they settled for this piece of land,
Additions to the cabin planned,
The wife was pregnant, all could see,
So a room was added, to hold three!

The cabin sighed, with great content,
As the plans unfolded; the money spent,
It heard again the sound of happy laughter,
And smiled as it echoed from the rafters!

Soon progress grew; many others came,
And put up homes, the land was tamed,
The cabin wept; as it was so sad to see,
The clearing and cutting down of the stately trees!

It longed once more, for days of old,
When legends grew, through stories told,
Of brave homesteaders who struggled to tame the land,
And it was born, by, sweat, toil and two strong hands!

©03/03/2012

Copyright © Jane Richer

Details | Cowboy | |

The Urban Outlaw

Being the urban outlaw has its own rewards, especially when this vingilante-like person is helping the Marshall oficers capture the bad guys. It's just like a modern-day version of the Wild Wild West, except that the buildings (including the saloons) have closed down or whatever. When one of the urban outlaws are riding their horses into town, they're either greeted by the townsfolks or feared by them. What's so great about the urban outlaws in the Wild Wild West is that the cowboys are playing a lot of poker and drinking, but minus the alcoholic beverages, let alone whiskey. Everybody knows that the urban outlaws have their backs, especially when corruption rises in their towns. The urban outlaw has to abide the rules that society has handed to him, especially the townspeople. God only knows that cowboys and outlaws are either against each other or working together and stuff. All urban outlaws also love sleeping by campfires and riding their horses through the heated desert and by the riverbanks. Not only does the urban outlaw has a lot of adventures, even in the Wild Wild West, he also has the freedom to ride his horse anywhere, even in town. Those cowboys and outlaws should be very proud of themselves. But what is so great about being an urban outlaw most of all is when he's on the run from the bad guys who he had jailed, even better. Well, I guess that's how these people roll in the Wild Wild West. Right now, I find the cowboys, the urban outlaws, and the Wild Wild West very interesting, especially when he and/or she's outside of the city. It's also as if we're back in the year 1867. And if there are going to be modern-day urban outlaws and modern-day cowboys everywhere these people go, even in rual places like outside of Dallas and/or Albuquerque, that would be awesome for everybody, even me.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey