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Cowboy War Poems | Cowboy Poems About War

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

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Details | Verse | |

The Winds of Time

One day I was passing time
And wrote these words upon the lines,
I know not where they came you see
The Winds of Time were there for me.

If I could open a door to the past
And there before me were the paths
I'm not quite sure which I would choose
But The Winds of Time would see me through.

The vastness there before God's Hand
Then came the heavens, the seas, the land
Eden, Noah and the Christ Child's birth
Is the path that I see first.

I'm not into Knights or dragon days,
Nor Robin Hood and his saving ways,
But give me a Viking as he crosses the seas
And I'll dream of the lands so wild and free.

The music of Irland calls to me,
Where Kathleen's heart has ever been,
And for Danny Boy the fifes do call
I'll shed my tears lest he should fall.

As Immigrants touched upon our shores
The Indians prepared to fight once more,
But fate stepped in and eased the sore
They'd live in peace forever more.

The  battles fought upon this land
To protect us from Tierney's hand,
The Civil War for Freedom's right
The Alamo where comrades died.

At Little Big Horn where our soldiers died,
As Indians defend their homes with pride,
The government later took a hand
And put them on Reservation land. 

I remember well, when I was quite young
The days of World War II
And how my father's life did change
When the family business he assumed.

Twenty-four seven was unheard of then,
But that was their working day,
They helped keep our nations trucks on the road
Their battlefield was here in the USA.

I'll choose the path with pastures green,
Horses, cattle and the cowboy scene,
This is the land of my mother's birth
The most precious land to me on earth.

I chose this land and took a stand,
Married a cowboy and we ranched the land.
Though now retired and family gone
This land will always be our home.

The Winds of Time, know well my soul
I'll rest at night with days of yore.
And as I wake a prayer I'll say
Please God, may we have Peace today?

                       Cile Beer

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Lyric | |

Shell from Sawed-Off

I'm aware that
They'll dare me to surrender when my burner's unkindled
And the barrel is empty
Since their whiskey is missing
But it's in our blood and baby it's trickling and
We're on a roll
I heard from her and her merciless curves
That the curse'll come first
Just 'fore the rebirth
It's a thought that gets lost when you pitch it with a cross
O'er a plate made of moss so
I'll name it Shell from Sawed-Off
As I paint Hell from Far-Off
Like the Seraphim cherishing the heart
Who can't turn from the art
Like embarrassing a perishing enemy
Yeah, one last taunt
When told to listen as though it'd fix it
Something went missing
Although I didn't miss it
A relation on a ship quite distant and
Slightly free
Where the ocean switched and the compass died instantly
Oh it's in our blood, baby we're tricky so now
Out that ship has sailed
Like the Seraphim cherishing the shark
Who can flip 'round the ark
Like embarrassing a perishing enemy
Yeah, one last taunt
And our sweat is slightly trickling
A whiskey business, the highest feeling
And the pressure is highly tricky
A risky business, a godly healing

Copyright © Criss Jami

Details | Rhyme | |


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.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Verse | |

Where's Home

My grandaddy done went 'n tole me
Son ain't no reason ta gits skeered
Hosses air jist a little bigger
Thin what pets youse had back thar.

Now my Ma 'n Pa got married
'N off to a big town they goes
'N all them yars theys done tole me
I's 'll takes youse back home.

They war always skeered
Never lets me go no whar
Never lets me has no friens er pets
Jist made me stays up stairs.

They done went 'n died
'N lefts me all 'lone
Folks jist went 'n boxed me up
'N sends me back ta my Ma's home.

I never seed my granpa
Don't knows nuthin 'bout no rench
My folks never lets me out
Aint never had no pets.

Now I's fines myself out here with him
'N the first thin he went 'n done
Tooks me ta the barn with him
'N sits me on somethin he calls roan.

I's only six yars ol'
'N it's a long ways down from here
Thin he takes hole of a rope
'N thin I gits really skeered.

I's ain't gots nuthin ta hangs on ta
'N I's slidin side ta side
Than granpa jumps up behine me
'N takes me fer a ride.

He done had his arms round me
I's wasn't skeered then a tall
Fer they was stong 'n warm
I's knowed I wouldn't fall.

That war many yars ago
Now granpa he's done gone
I's still out here on the rench
It'll always be my home.

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Rhyme | |

A Journey Bourne

Ah war out a walkin
Ut war a Sunday morn
Mah chores war all did
Warn't no need fer me et home

Ah walks along tha river
What does goes by er place
Hearin tha crickets singin
Un watchin dragonflies un tha chase

Tha rivers a little lively
Fer tha rain done brung er up
Un stead uve a little girgle
Ut souns more like "sup"

Ah war almost ta mah favor ite log 
Wen ah does sees a dog
He jist stans un looks et me
N ah's goes walkin up

Then ah' see's uh movement
Un ut war a horse 
He sniffs tha air un stares et me
Un never makes a noise

Over thar un mah log
Un much ta mah surprise
 War un ol' man sittin 
Un never even blinks un eye

Ah jist kinda moz ies over
Un sits down un tha end
Tryin hard not ta bothers um
Cause he war a snorin

Then thar war a little sound
Frum a rock across tha way
We's both looks ovar thar
Ta see's what tha frog has ta say

As he war a sayin his piece
The dog cumed right up
He war gonna catch tha guy
But he has ta swims tha river first

Than tha horse done gived a whinney
Un walks up ta tha man
Nuzzlin tha fellers cheek
An pawin tha white san'

Ah sez "I's sorry 
If'n I's buttin un"
Tha ol' man done shakes his head
Tilts his hat un sez "No mam"

"We's jist un a journey
Un sides ta takes a break
Ut war kinda perty here
So we's jist sits here un tha shade"

"Horse youse jist stops ut
Her ain't did nothin wrong
Her jist likes ta listen ta 
Tha little feller's song"

"Dog youse cumes back here
Youse don't likes ta swim
If'n youse two don't calms down
We'll be's un er way again

"Well ah's sorry mam
Ut's still perty early un tha morn
But ah guesses Wild Lighten un Duke
Er ready ta goes un with er journey bourne"

Cile Beer

Thanks Bob Hinshaw for the idea

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Rhyme | |

The Lincoln County War

Billy the Kid was living an honest life as a ranch hand.
He was employed by John Tunstall, an immigrant Englishman.
Mr Tunstall gave Billy his own horse, rifle and full saddle gear.
When he presented them to the Kid, Billy held back his tears.
"What's wrong son?" Mr Tunstall asked Billy outright.
The Kid responded, "No one has ever given me anything ever in my life."
It appeared that Billy was finally going to live a good life for sure,
until the competition murdered Mr Tunstall, which sparked The Lincoln County War.

Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster

Details | Sijo | |

Ponies Trampling Snorted Dreams -

               Where no ponies free ranged, I dreamt to break and wrangle paints.
            Where ponies bent, broke and bridled, I dreamt to hang away my spurs.
                 Where no ponies free range, I have no spurs and wrangle paints.

Copyright © Mark Ackerson

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 | Sonnet | |

Only The Strong Will Survive

God gives not peace, it's only dreamt by man,
in all the world ,brought from catastrophe,
all things are made, since time was first began
by things upheaved so new life comes to be.

The weak must fail, be eaten by the strong,
and losers die the death along the way,
so new life grows, even if it is wrong,
there is no time the poor will have to play.

The lion who will lay down with the lamb,
will have a feast before the day is done,
and all the world will never give a damn,
nor care about the giants and their fun.

        The hunter takes his aim and fells the dove
          the weak in life are only dreaming of.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Free verse | |

A Horse Worn Out

I am horse
Ride saddle 'pon my back
O'er plains of outer space or
O'er wishing grounds
My spit shine for a baker's bet
Wood is shrieker
And father my horse
Lay amongst the wary
And tell the hunter
Who's skin you enter soundly
Tell to him thy name;
Thy name is horse!

Copyright © Le Sony'r Ra

Details | Rhyme | |

Drippity drip drip

Take me there I don't care Touch my hair Eat this pear!!! I am bare Want to share? Do you care? I am bear I'll let you stare Don't go there By the chair Or on that stair? Your skin is fair You look like Cher Come to my lair But pay my fare Drippity drip drip

Copyright © Alexandra Caruso

Details | Free verse | |


A dusty old town-so quiet
a man, a traveler
takes off his pack-so heavy
and reclines for a rest.

they dont know his name, they never do
they wont even bother to ask
he troubles them-his mysterious past
leads them to prejudiced views

but were one to ask, for if naught but a name
what would this traveler say- would he speak?
a word, no. a name, he would give them and pass
"Im Wanderer, the world is my street."

Wanderer-what a name
does it signify much of his life
or is it a code- a cypher?
an enigma to his past.

Copyright © Hannah Stiles-Culver

Details | Alliteration | |


I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food, 
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room 
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz

Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free

If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable

Copyright © tomiwa simon

Details | Couplet | |

Invisible's Invincibility

I am an invisible man.
Try and see me if you can.

Shy and quiet I remain alone.
Silent is my voice’s tone

No one can feel my pain and sorrow
As I hide inside of my burrow. 

Shadows consume my body and soul
As I embrace the misty cold. 

The reason for my unseen being
Lies in the fact I hate being seen.

This life and existence’s of my own choice
And I choose not to have a voice.

I am silent. Invisible. Inexistent.
Yet I am invincible, an immortal being

Copyright © Granny Face

Details | Free verse | |

Well I Declare - If It Aint The Bounty Man

          Well I Declare – If It Aint The Bounty Man

Well I declare!   When I was young and free
I slung 2 guns from about my waste and charged a fee
And shot anything in sight that moved
As long as I got paid of course
I would shoot calories if there was a dollar in it
And lose weight in the process upon my horse
Now I’m 84 and there aint no shootin anymore 
But when I was young if you heard me say
“Well I declare” the word “war” was sure to follow in that statement
“Well I declare war on everyone in this here nation!”
And yell, “What in tar nation!” at the cowpokes in the saloon 
Yes sir.  They’d all run and hide like rabbits and baboons
Well I declare.  I can’t remember anything anymore
Who am I kidding?
I was never young.  I was born 84 and ready for a war

Created on 9/02/14 for- Well I Declare- Poetry contest

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

Details | Free verse | |

Ten Years Later

Once I wore cowboy boots on an oil rig And before that I was a Deputy, also known as a ‘Pig’ Prior to that time I was a normal guy, living life on the wild side But before I did that, I signed a line; a line to instead of your life, give mine. I was proud to put on a uniform that in turn was an automatic target But attacks on New York, D.C. and Pennsylvania, were the events that would start it Never again would my life be the same, no more thinking freedom was a game Alas, yet again in 2011, we shall continue to send those terrorists, to their ‘terrorist heaven’

Copyright © Andrew Johnson

Details | Cowboy | |

It Used To Be An Open Range

In these dark days of war and death, in these days of turmoil and change—
In these days of political correctness, it sure does seem strange,
How once we did what we wanted – it used to be an open range.

I know now how it must have felt when they strung the range with barbed wire—
An era ended on those plains; the land and men put up for hire—
A way of life and freedom gone – a hard rain that put out the fire.

And nowadays in word and rhyme, it seems poets are all fenced in—
To write of history and yesterday, just seem to be a sin—
They only want these modern ranching times and not those way back when.

We know the world has changed a lot and all our freedoms have a cost—
It seems liberties’ now another word that comes each year with frost,
As mournfully we gaze on sunsets and dream back on all we’ve lost.

So hoist another cup of Joe and raise your drink for one last toast—
Like phantom bison and wild horses, our free ways give up the ghost
And sadly we lean back in saddles and lose the thing we love most. 

In these dark days of war and death, in these days of turmoil and change—
In these days of political correctness, it sure does seem strange,
How once we did what we wanted – it used to be an open range.

Copyright © Glen Enloe

Details | Rhyme | |



I's jist gots back frum Y-OM_UN
An wents ta sees ma son un 'is wife
Thay war waitin fur a call ta goes helps a frien
An thays jist throwed me un.

Ut war un tha Kansas plains
Un thay war a brandin that day
I's jist watch-uz frum ma chair
I's uses a cane, taint fair.

I's jist sits un watch-uz
What all's thays done
Un 'long cums a butterfly
Un I's jist hops un.

Ut takes me fur north
Ta er ol' rench'
Un we's war busy
Brandin that day.

I's seed ma kids
Wrestlin calves ta tha groun 
Stan war a brandin
Whiles I's lens a han.

Thays poks um un prods um
Un than thays brans                                                                     
Un than ut's time fer tha man                                                          
With tha knife un his han.                                                                  
Un Maw  'er war a cookin'                                                                            
Ta feeds all a tha folks                                                                  
A brandin's a big thin                                                                    
So's we's all jist goes.                                                                    
We's never runs short a help
Cause that air er breed
It war tha same ez ut war
Back un l850.
Wen we's war done
Un thays begans ta pairs
We's jist op-uns tha gate
Un thays un thays own frum thar.

Ma daughter-un-law
Done slaps me's un tha back
"Wal Pa,"sez 'er
"Air youse with us er un Souse Dakotie?"

I's has ta 'mits
I's war back thar
But I's 'justed
Un I's kin makes er frum 'ere

Thins ain't tha same
Ez war way back than
But I's keeps all a tha mem-or-ies
Un re-lives um a'gin.
                                  Cile Beer

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Verse | |

We's Gotcha

Ma cowboys un me been ponderin a way
Tryin ta figgers ur chores fer tha day
We thunk, un we thunk, finally Jimbo sez
"Times cum fer us ta chooze sum ones ta tags"
Nows who ut cud be's air 'nother thin.
We's paces tha floor er work went undid
"Jist who's kin ut be's" asks Billy tha kid
Tha hawks thay war circlin', Tha buzzards war too
Wonderin what ut war wrong with er crew
Jist  bafor Cookie tha chuck bell did gong
I's finalies figgers oot what war wrong.
We's ain't never been oot un pub-lik much
So's I's takes oot my lariat an gives er a toss
Ut lans round Samuel, I's sez "youse tha boss
Ut air up ta youse what one we's does picks"
He ponders a spell, than cums oot un sez
"Whatch thinks bout er frien, Carol Brown."
I's sez "Doggies that air tha one"
"Gal frien we's loves ya"
Carol Brown --youse jist been tagged.

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Free verse | |

War Cry

War Cries going up and down
through the valley of death
and the trail of tears all around

A golden eagle flies overhead
as each of his warriors return to 
their bedsnn

He is a chief, a leader of man
and the future of a tribe that will one
day be Custer’s Last Stand

Copyright © Misty Thomason

Details | Rhyme | |

The Ride

Bet youse cain't guesses 
Whats I's done taday,
I's saddles up ma ol' roan
Un we's set off'n the trail
Whar tha doggies likes ta play.

Thay war tha fattest critters
Tha grass ut war belly high
Thay's maws war so full
Thay jist chews thays cud a while.

We's jist went un thru um
Un thay's didn't even sees
Tha calves a runnin' un buckin
Knowin what ut war ta be's free.

Than we's jist sits on a hill
Un watched tha win' blow
Tha grasses dancin long
Ta Tha Masters fiddle song.

Tha clouds war white un fluffy
Of no storm thay done feared
Tha perty little flowers 
War dressed un full gear.

We's jist wandered un 
Un by a spring we's stopped
Ol' Roan war perty thirsty 
Un I's done needs a smoke

Thar warn't no brandin'
Er calfin taday;
We's jist war checkin'
Un lookin fer futur hay.

Tha buzzards done feasted
Tha eagles sailed un soared
Tha little prairie dogs
Headed fer thay's holes.

God done a gud job
Fur es I's cud sees
I's bowed ma head 
Un tole Him I's pleased.

Time cumed ta goes back
'Er time ut war thru
Travlin ovar tha rocks
Hopes Roan don't throws a shoe.

Everthin war gud
Everthin went jist fine
We's makes er back home
Bafor supper time.

Than ma son done spoiled ut all
He waked me up
Un than all I's cud hears
War tha danged ol' oil wells strippin thays gears.

Copyright © Marycile Beer