Cowboy Stress Poems | Cowboy Poems About Stress
These Cowboy Stress poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Stress. These are the best examples of Cowboy Stress poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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MATTERS OF LIFE AND DEATH
Isn’t life short, today here tomorrow gone.
Switching the world off, turning eternity on.
How many before us, in the world have lived?
Just in a short while, to embrace their grief.
Many sort and earned great treasures
Many lived chasing around pleasures.
One moment masters of the world,
The next buried corpses in the ground.
Once celebrated figures of glory,
Now buried skeletons of history.
As many a poor men stagger upon wealth,
Just as many rich, succumb to poor health.
In the end we are all prisoners with no say.
We are all dogs waiting for our day.
Life is a dark winter seldom warmed by cups of tea.
And everyone is but a tiny fish lost at sea.
We may prosper here and conquer there,
But soon our strengths and efforts wear.
If you are lucky, it’s just you and a few friends,
By your bed side as your life ends.
Life is like a painful recurring bee sting,
Which you will pass down to your offspring.
you leave in them your blood and with them your name.
They believe their time is better, but its all the same.
They don’t see that the future is but a deck of cards
And you can only play the hand dealt in your hands.
Some are born to wear gold watches and to live in mansions.
Some are born to poverty and the consolation of sacred songs.
The rich man’s heaven Is drinking wine in hotels by the beaches.
As the poor man in his hell, waits upon his resurrection to riches.
Copyright © Jack Nganga | Year Posted 2015
Four young fellas rode by around midday.
Sun was strong as whiskey scratching the back of a three day dried throat.
The three girls were out front and Ma came out pointing her loaded shotgun.
Riders like these and the hot sun wasn’t gonna be anything
but a barrel full o’ trouble.
They tipped their hats, asked for water.
Kitty with her blouse all open and them nubile breasts of hers just pouting
like peas in a pod just ready to pop.
Ma saw the way she was eying up that dark haired fella.
She just hollered at her to get her trouble seeking ass inside.
Ginny, the eldest girl, fetched them the water.
Seemed like they weren’t in any hurry to leave, so Ma fired off a shot,
whistled by the blond one’s ears so his horse darn near threw him.
Ma wasn’t the kind to tell anyone anything but once,
cos she said you can’t be wasting the Lord’s precious breath on hard eared scum.
They got the message well enough.
Don’t reckon we’ll be seeing them back this way again any time soon.
Copyright © Patricia L Graham | Year Posted 2014
Walk your Line
A word to the blind:
From the day your first mount and ride
Till the moment you die
Walk your line
Walk proud and high
Through each and every wreck your stride unwinds
Walk your whole heart
till it breaks if you like
But drink the whole pint down
and with an appetite for burning in the stirrups
See if you can swallow the time.
Walk, right away from your childhood dreaming
lay it beneath your feet in caliche
And when you're yearning most to tie on a tourniquet
Telling yourself you deserve it
stay in line, as you're not entitled to anything.
Never more a burden then when asking for money
and worthless for thinking of quitting
cuz there's nothing in the world worth half it's weight
unless for it you're bleeding.
Your life's only worth your life's work
the grinding gears in your temple, spinning
Always on time, you can count on it
but despite it all you'll walk well beyond all you thought
When you first agreed to begin
When for what you signed on for you've nearly forgot
Some crockpot reason to pursue a living
in what to most is only a vacant lot
You'll have to walk to the empty spot on the map
just past where your mom and dad had given up.
And then keep walking
Bypassing your own bragging rights stopped dead in their tracks
and all parts plastic inside you have snapped in half
In fact, you'll soon be worn so far past the point of no return
to think you were actually born on its welcome doormat.
Everything is past the big fancy hat
walk, before your feet get frozen, stuck to the bar
for something more than can be bought no matter who you are
To be the one who takes it this far
and to become the soul of the man
as if you've finally landed – working for the homeland
Riding for the brand, cuz you were given a single chance
And walk for the credit of at least one loop correctly cast
and for the wisdom of knowing if and when to turn em back
or hang on for dear life like you've dallied your own hand.
And stick by the very skin of your big toenail, as you pitch in the norther winds
just trying to send you clear to rock bottom
and only then, they might not prevail.
So go on out, the time is now
Walk high and proud, and take a breath in town
then keep being the nail, always driving deeper down
never quit walking the sacred ground you're standing on now
If you think you love that gal.
Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016