You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...
PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker
on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads
while keeping your ad blocker active. Thank you!
Cowboy Sea Poems | Cowboy Poems About Sea
These Cowboy Sea poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Sea. These are the best examples of Cowboy Sea poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
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
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 | Year Posted 2012
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
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
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
I once told a lie
as I looked her in the eyes
LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL
I just smashed a bowl
CB is a troll
In both sense
Wandering through minds of the unforgiven
As they irrationally spill their metaphorical hearts
Copyright © Laura Valledy | Year Posted 2011
Hoe bites, turning earth
Rain falls bringing life anew
Cool on sunburned skin
Copyright © Jack Meadows | Year Posted 2010
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
He's a cowboy in the navy,
the sweetest thing there is.
He likes so many things
that I do, it's almost a mirror.
We enjoy talking miles and oceans apart,
but are waiting for the day we really meet.
Maybe things will work out,
and something good will start.
Will he be the glue
for my heart?
Will that lasso catch me
and pull me to him?
Can I be something
better than what hurt him?
Can I heal him if he
hurts too, can I be his glue?
I enjoy finding things out about him,
I want him to know he is more than he thinks.
He's got me thinking about him
in my small free moments.
I think about what we'll do,
when we meet, if things go well.
I've always wanted a good looking cowboy, sailor or army man,
Will he be my sea cowboy someday?
(This sounds like one of those childish sweetheart poems, I just let it flow and that is what i
wrote i don't think it's the best, i can do better.)
Copyright © Brittany Paradis | Year Posted 2009
Tall Grass bends beneath
undulating waves of gray brown
Mystic energy pulses through
the crisp dawning sky
Smell of sweat & acrid fear
The sound of the hunt Cry
mixed with the thunderous crashing
of Buffalo waves on prairie sod shores
Pony & warrior riding the crest
Arrow loosed finds its mark
deep within Yansa chest
Hunter’s cry of triumph
In harmony with the last bellow of death
as the waves of the Yansa sea
ebb & flow across the Tall Grass plains
© June 2003
** Yansa is the Cherokee word for buffalo**
Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005
Pennylane wore shiny cheap
plastic knee high boots
with the pointed toe and
Stumbling sandy steps
forty miles frim Tijuanna.
She wore a strippers silk skirt,
swishing against pale, thin thighs.
Penny was seducing salvation
in Augusts torrid sandy
Pacific air, pushed up,
wretched rock cliff faces,
blowing her small frame,
tossing sand to mix with
the blow in her purse.
She'd hold her tequila bottled
tight, exposing small
clinging to clear fluid
clutching and encasing the
Corrupting, coursing, pushing,
spinning the trapped little worm.
She hated and loved the caged
creature, she liked that
her grasp, staggering step
could control his motion and at
she could swallow his fate.
Copyright © Meghan Marshall | Year Posted 2007