Cowboy Business Poems | Cowboy Poems About Business

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Details | Couplet |


Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |

What have you done to me

Oh what have you done to me,
A city built in the name of Christ.

When an earthquake struck,
Destroying all my pretty clothing
And shaking  the flesh off all my bones.
Leaving only my skeletal frame ,
Half submerged in sewerage raw
And liquefaction adding to my woes,
Threatening to make me completely disappear.

No one with water to spare as I began to choke
On air now so foul.

When you felt safe to come out and see my plight,
You drew lots for my last vestments of dignity, 
Before inviting others in to help you pick over my bones.
You even looked the other way when the Vultures started gathering.

You filled my streets with low life's and vermin knee deep.
And patched my broken bones with cheap plaster.
Watching as those who yet stood by me grew weak,
Bled dry by insurance companies and their red tape, con artists, 
And Cowboys posing as builders,
Supplied by rip-off merchants of every description,
All overseen by government official with no idea what to do,
Except find ways to spend their money unwisely.

You raised $50 million dollars to build a playground
For children without proper homes and not enough food to eat.
Another ten or so million was found to build a marble wall 
In memory of of those who fell beside me as the earthquake struck.
Do you think that will give them eternal rest.

No future do I see worth having here,
Can you not just let me sleep,
So Christ can rebuild his beloved garden city,
Away from this foul swamp,
Filled with indifference and despair,
That the rest of the country has left to rot.

Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


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

21 February 2013

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kwansaba |

Shiny Minded Stone

"What's your story?"
she questions,
"you seem interesting."

wildflower eyes
I reply, "NOW."                                                                    (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really, 

often people become confused                                                    
by such a unique response                                                            
not this one...                                                                                
she's a beauty                                                                       
shiny minded stone                                                                  
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone

tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above

she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores

malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks

gold flows throughout waves 
streaming locks
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed 
by her entice

hands free of envy
no webs to spin
hips unmolested
thighs slick

be warned
she will divide you
no voodoo 
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you

the girl
baby of zero maybes
she knows

as clarity lent us its giant umbrella 
her lipstick smacked my tongue 
from there
we never looked back


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

I Live in the Country

I slipped on my boots,
Headed out for some loot.

I can settle in the barn,
But not in chair fiddling with some yarn.

Ain't that type to stick around,
Gotta' stand tall, stand my ground.

I wanna' work in the law,
Even if doesn't handle a saw.

I got a truck,
All beat down, like my luck.

I like livin' in the country,
My roots lived here over a century.

The issue is,
The city is where my dream lives.

Packin' up my truck,
Imma let the streets know what just struck!

Copyright © Matt Daniels | Year Posted 2013

Details | Fibonacci |


the spot-
when sawbucks
were riding the range.

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |

On Eagles Wings

With choice will grasp its fundamental pull

In time we can replace its timely spin of the wheel
In comfort its cup will long to protect the innocents blade
With love comes a pulse with gravitational pull
On Eagles Wings comes a flood of dispensational thought

One hand to hold a heart will mend
No silver spoon nor heart by which to mend
From the cradle to the grave its communicative salve
Through its hungry thought provoking apathy

In chambers of ghosts in sullen degree
A simple grasp at the evenings homily
In caged bars grasped its silver spoon
Shallow promises we used to thrill

On eagles wings the sea does thrill
Out on its fresh scenic brigade a steam train will
In haunting neglect reflect then stay near shore

Frightened by the ambiance drifting a shore

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Not For Naught

What you do here, is your job, life, future and health.
Without each one of these, there will be no wealth.
Apply and learn each day that you live and breathe.
Give your all in whatever you do, protect with a sheave.
Don’t ever think, what you do, is just a plain job.
If you let this happen, it is your soul, spirit you rob.
What you do makes a difference, in someone’s life.
What mistakes you make, causes someone strife.
So take a new look, at what you do, every day for pay.
Take pride, take revelation look, and see life’s display.
Give thanks for all the work you do, with praise or not.
For without you and what you do, everything is for naught.

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Jesse J

Well they done took away ma pension
whilst I waren’t payin no tention.
Never thought thet thar could happen,
Seems ma face they keep a slappin'.

Ah trusted all them folk thet said ah could,
ah took their word like they sed ah should,
but now ah see they jest a bunch a thieves,
Take all ya got and knock ya to yer knees.

Use ta was be you could tell a liar,
plain’s ya could the town crier,
Now they got sneakier ways,
from lots a practice these days.

Them banks and the government’s in cahoots.
Reckon they standin’ in each others boots.
Whisht ah’d a knowed they wuz gonna play those games
Ah’d  a set much lower aims.. maybe like …Jesse James.

Done asked a lawyer onced bout business and ethics.
He laughed and said “Bob, business and ethics don’t mix!”
Never heered anybody say that right out loud…
Still laughin’ at me,.. he walked away proud.

Yep, maybe I’d a set much lower aims…
Reckon I’d a understood… Jesse James.

Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

The Man In Black

The man in black alit from the stagecoach that hot and sultry day.
With his hat he brushed dust from his suit as he surveyed old Santa Fe.
He pulled his hat down over his eyes as he strode to the nearby saloon.
Who was this mysterious stranger?  A gambler or a business tycoon?

There was a prominent bulge under his coat where a pistol might be.
He carried a fine leather valise, its contents provoking curiosity!
He was clad in the finest cloth and was built like an old rugged oak,
Wore white linen, fine leather boots, topped off with a stylish cloak!

He sat down with a sigh, took off his hat and ordered a bottle of rye.
He took not a nip but said, "Fellows, step up!  A drink for you I'll buy!"
That was unusual - free booze - they scarcely knew what to think!
But the town rabble and ne'er-do-wells flew to his table for a drink!

In the meantime, the sheriff received word about this new man in town.
He rushed to the saloon with hands on his rods to calm things down!
"What's yer business here, pilgrim?  I don't want any trouble!
If you're here to gamble or pimp, you kin leave town on the double!"

"Calm down, mister sheriff!  I aim to help you in maintaining the peace!
To deal with those who flaunt the law and help crime to decrease!
May I introduce myself, sir.  I'm the Reverend Mister Percival Brown,
And I aim to settle here and build a Presbyterian church in your town!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

Details | Bio |

for all garner murmur-

Lent spent pond 
canonical odes… 
graven fete bitter 
burden led folds… 
for all garner murmur…
… engraft ergo… 
sentimental dentures; 
sole garlic bred toads…  

Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy |

Tumbleweed Billy And One Eyed Sam

            Tumbleweed Billy And One Eyed Sam

Banked off jagged hills, pushed on by memory
Cause and effect took turns churning the sidewinders
Tumbleweed Billy and One Eyed Sam (The patron Saint of snake eyes)
Dragged down from on high by a freak flood

Through swollen gorges flushed with raging waters
From melted mountain snow with a long way to go
Two cowpokes gathered up by ancient storms without warning 
Compounding the Pounding past the sandy canyonous rocks
Crashing through dams along the flooding passage
Tumbleweed Billy and his one eyed friend rolled into town 

They came to rest at Rusty Bottom, a dusty town
Released their grip on a sturdy timber log 
That brought them there all wet and muddied
With wind against their backs 
That swept them up to view the Last Chance Saloon
Looming over there

This brought them to their feet to mossy over
They moved like prestidigitation fakes, hankering for a drink
Taking whiskey down like magic water  
Then set out their pedestrian plan there on the table
To take this western town down by gambling pranks
Quick digits formed their sleight of hand

Children suddenly appeared before the strangers
Seemingly from nowhere on the action
The two cowpokes glanced back at them like spies
Sam scared them with his missing eye
Covered by a black patch, looking kinda pirate like
The other clouded, milky white, piercing, with limited sight

Billy grants the young ones wishes on the spot to settle them
Magic to be perfected and performed above a pending storm
He rolls one die.   A one comes up.  A snake eye
An omen more visible than not
This made the children fear an awful lot

Dice played a major role for his desires and devices
He kissed them twice for luck then vanished in their cast
Tumbleweed Billy rolled out of Rusty Bottom Town 
Taking his dice and the bad eyed man  

In a singular milky white last lost glance around
On the same south winds now gone from town
Both sidewinders de-materialized, vanished in that instance 
As though they never existed 
Invisible, never seen before, never seen again, as foe or friend
They disappeared

As for the children; who gambled on the chance of magic
Got exactly what they asked
And what was granted when they first wished it
For the two to disappear

Tumbleweed Billy and Sam were gone as quickly as they came
And no one really missed them or their game
That is; their tricks, dice and way of life
Their little slice of paradise

9/16/14 Cowboys in the badlands – Poetry contest

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Anguish taunts through a barbed wire fence with edged grasp

Actions in which human beings rebel against a holy God
Miss their purpose for their lives
Surrender to the prince of the power of the air more then God
Cause  all of their deeds were evil!

An eclipse of the sun had tainted my inner vision
Push back the pain with radiant guide
Does this notion in thought come at any big surprise?

Weak willed tyrants from the flood of dispinsation
Shattered fragments loosed in gloom climatic abrasion
Parts unknown from the setting of the sun

Leading gullible women captive under the false cloak of compromise
Abortion on demand
When will they ever understand?

Blood shed in our streets
Evil tyrants from elected officials overly prideful taunt & pull!
We each our responsible for our actions before a holy God

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

The art Of Spring

Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by

Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul

Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory

Fresh water arises with the scent 
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all

The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist


Copyright © Angela Wilson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Borrowing a loan to pay the bank to reward the future

Circuitous im sure
Who doesn't save to live?
Bet on the future
To ignite drive

let me switch gears
been idling in no man's land
Unapproved though prequalified (yarr)

Time to reside
but sentinals hawk my glance
Chance must be played
In a casino loft

Human rights im sure
To free trade agreement
What about squatter's rights?
To eat and breathe

Copyright © Justin Debrosse | Year Posted 2012

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 | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |



Shallow pools cloven tide within heightened scale to oblige

Some may choose to run away & hide?
Within its sought manifestation a lethal side will play
Although amidst its horrific grasp in time

Nearer toward the notion of extravagance,
Through tests with divers thoughts in escalating
In deeper shallow pools the timeless conquest of rest

As if a caged rat that was hidden in a tiny hole would vent

The inner change from haste we will wait to end its test

To become transparent amidst ivy briars would grasp;

With thorns pierced to skull to dull its inflated rhyme...

See, I think different then most
A sorted lost seagull flying outside on the coast

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

Forest Workers

They start at dawn, and go until eve.
Working all day long, 
They bring furniture into homes.
Firewood into our burners.

They’re faces rough with scruff, 
touch of dirt, with dust in hair.

Plaid and jeans to cover their skin,
Boots made of leather to cover the toe.
Wearing these things to keep warm from the chilling weather.
By their side carrying cold heavy wood sword of steel.

Copyright © Emaka Abbott | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

End Times

To deceive is to believe the lie

The lie that actually claims I am what I do?
To believe is to have faith yet
Faith isn't intellectualized it just is,
In the storms of life amidst the strife we stake our claim
Not to ever play the blame game
Although we must confess,
The angels almost blushed while in a rush
Just suppose?

Painted pony's with strange eskimo's'
Delightful days of getting lost in some purple haze;
The trip is on as we sing our final song
Filtered through its ellusive embrace;
In special reasons while lost in space
End times we claim the mark
The mark of the beast in sullen asps which fright in the night
Having long hanging viscous fangs that bite
We maybe living in the final days of evil

Shades of pine fallen asunder warm to lightning or was it thunder?

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cowboy |

GregCrook dot com

A young man of 18, seeking his fame,

Did dare to pursue with confidence anew,

His American dream serving those who flew.

Eight years toil amongst fuel spills, gravel and soil,

He sought to secure that elusive American dream.

A financial novice with hopes to spare,

His opponents drew him like a fox to the snare,

Lending him funds with assurances repleat,

Then pouncing upon him publicly to hasten his defeat.

Now a complaint or two they may have,

Indeed not a every pound could be repaid,

And tarnish and slander his name they would try,

Even speak ill of dear 'ol mom,

But the last laugh you see my friend,

Will be found in his copyright of this poem, 

Titled simply

Copyright © Greg Crook | Year Posted 2012

Details | Bio |

The March of Rhymes

The March of Rhymes

Although the notion of the twilight sun had tainted my crystal clear vision

Was there something else you have been missing
The hero calls to yonder shore once again all alone;
As if a stray dog is in search of its bone,
The march rhymes lives among a passing few;

A papal pew decorated in the brilliant ambiance of fun,
With a certain crimsome tide to come undone,
Just after a police chase we so often will run to & fro;
Amidst the delicate fragrance of an ego,

Within smiles of timeless chartered words;

A center of reflection in the vast pyramid filled with choice,

Let us further linger in the fullest madness & rejoice

A pleasant smile still we each knew all the while;

The sore vexed temperment on the loose with cannon
The march of rhymes we shall succeed so many times
On a blade of grass she made me wait;
Some may even call this fate,

A lovely fragrant scent of fallen early morning rain;
As bullets fly through the ambiance movement in sky
Some just settle for peanut butter & jelly;
When all the while they can have a nice ham on rye,

The march od rhymes sings as the time passes by

Sometimes its just not enough but for to give it one last try?

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2011

Details | Bio |


Trust in madness reach the flame. 

The whole wide world is totally insane;
We elect leaders that live for pain
Living for self reliance in greed for gain,
We plot our course marked on a blotted page

To falter in the truth of the matter

We build a shelter amidst the fallen shade
We long for a social uprise yet fall headlong into its blade of suicide
Eternity is forever amidst the climatic weather
Forces to shelter the helpless beggar

We stand on truth amidst a loose tooth,
Shattered dreams pomp in circumstancial quest
The world will like you as long as you do something for them
They often lie in wait to deceive as they brustle through the leaves;

We often will call evil good and good evil
We only accept what that is trivial,

A shoulder to cry amidst the pain,
Torn to shreds loose heads;
A notion of darkness amidst the light
Marked on a blotted page although most fully intact.

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

On Going . . .

Under a witch’s moon
blows the wind that blows within
she sings her songs
in out of tune 

In her troubled heart
sorrow blows across her soul
on a restless storm
going . . . . away

Her slender shoulders carry weight
of you
who looks inside and weeps
God you were a friend
she cries
a river winding
through valleys dark
where you have gone
Where endless deserts end
sand catches between her toes
scuffing pretty plumes 
of prismed moonlight
into dust

Copyright © Jill Martin | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

A Kiss Of Death

Through various trials in life many tend to give up on the fight

Other have frolic in the ambiance of spite
Still some resist this form of logic & truly live
A vested tendency & need to forgive
We spill our hearts out on the burgeous sea

A kiss of death with noted Judas with Jesus

A sin so costly it ended his fate
With promise of a ressurection far too late
A kiss of death fresh out on the painted canvas
With sweat of brush stroke to quench the desire

A kiss of death in modest apparel
In want of appease through dense torn leaves
In wallow of a forest in a grand chasm
In moments were one can't even fathom
Through lips tied among the chartered course to pull
A regime of strife & reluctant pull

In regards to a promise that was once made in the dark'
It had lit the fullest spark to what it was I have been waiting for
A great gulf fix hence the vast opened door
A given chance to finally explore
The notion in logical persuasion & more!

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

The Individual

The Individual

One must never harden themselves by its rudimentary purpose

Goals in accomplishing trust & cooperation
Since the old days had Cain;
Let me be the first to explain,
All is shifting sand to equate its timely devisive plan

How does one equate both logic with fear

A deepened sense of inferiority & inadequacy
Interferes with the attainment of your hopes;
But self confidence leads to self realization & successful achievement
The Individual

Through an opened window lies a heavy curtain
Yet not for certain,
A true source of communication;
To look within leaves a reproach without...

The common man so often will bitch & pout

Yet for the individual,
As a high soaring eagle flys overhead through the sky;
Split please to appease in rudimentary disease...
A passing delicate stride to recapture our youth in viable regret

Yet the individual still stands proud;
The individual...
Through variation & solace;
A timely sorted bargain basement deal...

A look back at the sky toward the grand spinning wheel,

The individual,

Standing tall amidst the agony & pain lest I shall refrain a distant scorn to shame!

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

The Big Country

The vastness of the prairies
Grassed and green
As far as the eye can see
Grace the lands
Of the Big Country
Ranches so large
It takes days to ride
Herds so colossal
Ranchers pride
Long horned steers
Browned and white
Like the buffalo
An incredible sight
The open range
Inhabit with new
Sheep farmers arrive
Lambing Ewes
With vast herds
And flocks of sheep
Big Countries land
No longer deep
The Homestead Act of 1862
Led to the need, to feed us humans too
Ranchers diversified, and farmed as well
As the Big Countries population began to swell
The prairie lands as big as they are
Could never sustain the bovine stars
Organisation would eventually fold
As grazing rights, the government sold
No more roaming for these herded souls
Fenced off ranches, the modern goal
Barbed wire in 1874
Kept the herds, and they roamed no more
You have to admire the land of the free
Make that journey take a look and see
Vast prairies for past ranchers be
The Big Country

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

Details | Epic |

Sweet Hour Of Life

Shelter lies dormant to its beckoning call,

In ellusive formation in a dream
Colors in elaborate decorum which bleed
Trees in tormented flight with arched husks;
In clever ambiance a spool of thread

Shattered by darkness proned to fear

With desolate madness in vanquished tear;
Such were the promises in ardent spring,
Chimes of cold bells would ring;
Vanquished from the burden of the innocence in flight

Aloof, to weak willed vile intention;

Would seek to learn at my next confession,
Words in elaborate decayed form;
In bitter silence to its beckoning call,
Our dreams are not enough through ivy briars;

Thorns in desolate persuasion,

In damnable heresy proned to desolation;
Yet to view a butterfly in flight with parched sphere
Often the sequence of thought is clogged by that of compromises
Twisted message within its sequential valiant,

With thick briars torn to bitter ashes sway;

Tempted in the inner torn muck of persuasion.

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |


Through a slight peep hole in a door ellusive to the actual norm

In the future one can exhibit a flair for faith amidst evil
Within great credible eye witness to achieve
Through a sorted variation in a dream

Although the twilight sun had tainted my inner vision

In a whirlwind of descretion we falter in confessing
Although for the moment no shoulder to cry
A sorted dilemna in a blink of an eye
A sought after excursion

Isolationism in the midst of something supernatural

Deep within every human heart there beats a common melody
Through a spring of melodic yearning design
Many interpret the golden rule as control
They simply negate a philosophy & self consideration to ever know

Many as of late have been proned in tears
Yet in effect those very tears have removed all known fears
All of us live as in some isolated nomadic state
Far from our home in eternity so will embrace the temporal

We all must determine in love what will become
Hence in deep retrospect to its given outcome
Many like to control others due to pride
The god of this world has blinded their eyes so they suffer in deep silence alone!

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |


The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.

You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.

Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.

Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.


Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

universal time

 Universal Time

trees stand as guards
somewhat staggered afar
every brown branch silent
near but not disturbed
somewhere large needle cones
passing through a tunnel

and someplace a calm lake
curling waves pounding shorelines
survived silence above paths
and uncovered tracks
i fall

branches rustle in the wind.


Copyright ©2006 Thomas G. Valle 



Copyright © tom valle | Year Posted 2006