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Cowboy Tribute Poems | Cowboy Poems About Tribute

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

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Details | Verse |

Football, Beer, His Car and Kid

-The Same Old SongS-

That's all he ever talks about 


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cowboy |

The Last Ride

One tough ol’ cowboy; a strong, upright man,
He rode many years for the Lazy "H" brand.
One ev’nin, quite late, as he rode out from town
Some bandits, they jumped him; threw him straight to the ground
“Your Treasure!”, they cursed, “Or you’ll surely be dead!”
And when he refused, they were quick with the lead.
A slug in his hip, near the heart, through a lung
Then they left him for dead, but he weren’t yet undone.

Climbing back on his horse, he vowed one last fight,
And touching a spur, he rode into the night.
Back at the ranch were the loved ones he’d guarded
But he knew deep inside that soon they’d be parted.
He was one tough ol’ cowboy; yes, tougher than hide,
But concerning his family, he was all soft inside.
The pain ... almost blinding, his breath nearly gone
But with unfinished business, he had to press on!

His kin sensed his struggle, but there was nothing to do
‘Til that cowboy rode in and looked over his crew.
Anxious, they watched as he surveyed his place
Then he smiled his approval; Pride in his face.
For the barn door was shut, the fences all mended
The mangers were full; just like he’d intended.
There just weren’t much more for his rough hands to do
So he turned in the saddle and bid them adieu.

Neither trying to stop him nor wantin’ him gone
They silently watched as he rode toward the dawn.
His breath now came easy, the pain gone away
Ridin’ high in tall grass on a bright summer day.
When he’d rubbed down his mount and made sure he was fed,
He heard, “Well done cowboy!” And turning his head
There stood his Savior with arms open wide.
“You made them all proud when you made that last ride!”

Copyright © Dean Wood | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Howling Wolf

The feeling of your touch 
I know it in the brush of the wind
The heat of the sun
Sweeping down on my skin
A reasurrace of a hand on my shoulder
A tear wiped away
As it fell from the sky
I know much about you
Like your cowboys and indians
And the nights we would dance
a pow wow in the night lights
stars abrasive against our hearts
rubbing off the smudge and dirt 
To say im proud would be an understatement
Our heritage may lie beneath the pavement 
But in our hearts and in our words
The feathers still fly
Howling wolf, and I

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Viagra and Beer

Too much Viagra and beer.
Too much Viagra and beer.
My wife was out of town,
I hit every club around.
Each time I'd hope to find
A horny woman here.

Country Bob's was the last club that was open.
Near blind drunk and horny, but I was still hopin'.
A pretty woman gave me a glance,
Smiled and said, "Nice pants.
Honey, I'm ridin' if you're ropin'."

A few hours later, I was in a Helluva mess
She's still ridin' hard and screamin', "God, this is the best!"
I was dizzy and light-headed. I had pains in my chest,
But she wouldn't stop long enough to call EMS.

When I came to, I was home in my own bed,
Next to my lovely wife; and this is what she said:
"I picked you up at Country Bob's, my dear;
And there's gonna be some changes around here.

You were fantastic last night;
So, I only think its right
If I supplement your diet 
With Viagra and beer."

Viagra and beer. Viagra and beer.
She treats me like a king,
Says I make her body sing;
So, She makes sure I get my Viagra and beer.

Viagra and beer. Viagra and beer.
Yeah, she makes sure I get my Viagra and beer.

We're like newlyweds. 
I need a break sometime.

Submitted by: Buzz O'Words
Written: 3/3/14

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Cowboy |

a soldier peom

there is a soldier who is dying while
there is a soldier who is crying

there is a soldier who is weeping while
there is a soldier who is sleeping

there is a soldier who is had moved away while
there is a soldier who is had passed away

there is a soldier who is standing while
there is a soldier who is praying 

there is a soldier who has left home while
there soldier who has come home

Copyright © michelle herndon | Year Posted 2015

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 | Rhyme |

Cowboys where are you

There was a day on TV
Where westerns were all the rage
You could take your pick
From your TV paper page

Together our masked hero the Lone Ranger
With Tonto kept outlaws in a spin
Have Gun Will Travel was the card
For black dressed professional gunfighter Paladin

Wagon Train kept rolling along
Seth Adams the leader
Flint McCullough chief scout
Old Charlie Wooster was the feeder

Rawhide kept the cattle moving
Gil and Randy kept control
In Dodge City it was Gunsmoke
Marshall Matt Dillon was key role

On the ponderosa it was Bonanza
Where Ben Cartwright was the boss
With his family of three boys
Adam, little Joe and Hoss

Wells Fargo was the stagecoach
Where Jim Hardie was the star
Now these are only some
For they were many more by far

They were the Virginian and the Rifleman
Laramie, Maverick and Cheyenne
The High Chaparral not to mention alias Smith and Jones
These made us all a fan

Cowboys where are you?
Memories of you is our lot
On TV we can’t see
Is this our last shot?


Copyright © Gordon McConnell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Blue Jeans

I'm a country boy who needs you
The first time you're washed you bleed blue
You go with all of my T-shirts
If I rip you I will be hurt

As crisp as Mississippi's air
I still will wear you with a tear
You are something I'll never share
Got four or five favorite pair

Something I won't trade khakis for
Brown as bags from the package store
Since my favorite color's blue
I want you in every hue

From the stonewashed to rigid you
When I can't buy I visit you
I'm hoping that they give me you
'Cause your fit I'm addicted to

Copyright © Michael Wyms | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |


I was watching the TV the other day
When a certain Rerun began to play.
It brought me back to one of my brain's stifled bans
Because it was about Lucas McCain...the Rifleman.

All of a sudden I was drenched by a flood
of Western Shows that have been long since dead.
I'll just begin with a few you may remember
Like Marshall Dillon - later Gun Smoke as it came on one September.

But I remember The Cisco Kid
and how Poncho always did what he did
we can't forget the masked stranger
who of course turned out to be The Lone Ranger

Then there was Wyatt Earp, Cimmaron Strip, and Rawhide too,
The Guns of Will Sonnet and a Wagon Train rumbling through.
Will anyone ever forget Paladin in Have Gun - Will Travel
or Trackdown or Wanted Dead or Alive with Josh Randall?

Can we ever forget The Big Valley,
or the Ponderosa's size when Bonanza came on the tele.
There were Tales of Texas Rangers and even an F Troop,
Let's not forget Rin Tin Tin and how down on the bad guys he'd swoop.

I still can see Lash Larue and Hopalong Cassidy with his black hat
There were Three Mesquiters to watch when I sometimes sat.
Do you remember Yancy Derringer and his friend Pahoo
or Johnny Yuma, The Rebel who never yelled "Yahoo"!

Maverick, Sugarfoot, and Cheyenne were favorites of mine
There are too many more here for me to rhyme.
Many a big star began on that little screen
If it hadn't been for the Westerns...What would they have been?
It can be fun thinking about some of those shows
Because they are a part of TV nostalgia as everyone knows.
They have come and gone like the heroes they'd portray
I remember the Westerns...and their horse's neigh.  

Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Ode To Romanova - A Good Horse

Ode To Romanova - A Good Horse

Romanova is a good horse;
truly one of a kind;
Her story I will tell you 
if so you are inclined.

She'd the look of a racehorse;
tall of stature, red of hue;
With Power and beauty;
I thought, a winner through and through.

But her mind had been a-scatter,
Headstrong, rambunctious and wild,
Until a bond we created 
My God, it took a while.

An understanding grew between us,
Like no one else could do,
A Love and respect had blossomed
that was both strong and true.

One day she came onto the track;
With a gleam in her eye;
and a flare to her nostrils
But her odds, they were high.

She broke from the gate; 
and ran like a train;
Passed horse after horse; 
oh boy, did she gain!

The jockey said "Let's go, girl"
Her name all did call;
There she charged out in front;
Ahead of them all.

Stride after stride; 
her lead grew down the lane.
She was first past the wire; 
the wind blowing through her mane.
Prancing back home;
A proud look on her face;
Clearly she knew;
She was "Winner of the Race".

That sweet taste of victory 
made her always yearn for more
To fly like the wind...,
That's what she had been born for

With each win she walked more nobly,
More confident, assured and satisfied.
The little-girl-scared, was now a champion,
We stood victorious together, she and I, side by side.

Copyright © Dana Vacca | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |

The Darkness at Noon

     The Darkness at Noon

Tombstone never looked so good
With doomsday coming down 
On the dusty Arizona town
The OK Corral near by 
The Clanton-McLaury gang on hand
With no one else about
The Earp boys in the wings
Thinking things out
Doc Holliday also in tow for the show
The darkness at noon began 
Guns rang out
30 seconds flew by and 30 shots fired
2 cowpokes fell to the ground expired
Justice prevailed that afternoon
Though darkness shadowed the mood
A legend began that cold dark day 
When noon turned into night 
In old Tombstone
                                                                                                                   (Darkness at noon contest en

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Tears of My Heart

if poop could be named anything what would you name it?  id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor.  dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.

Copyright © Matt Poopenheimer | Year Posted 2012

Details | Haiku |


   Westerns are such fun
  A Cowboy in a white hat
John Wayne - "Chance, John Tee"

Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2016

Details | Clerihew |

From Medic to Cultured Gun Man

From Medic to Cultured Gun Man

Richard Boone
Now scattered ashes in Hawaii’s sea tomb.
Played a doctor in Medic,
Then Paladin who could have even spoken Samoyedic.

Copyright © Edward Johannes | Year Posted 2015

Details | Clerihew |

Frontier Man In Blood

Frontier Man In Blood

Richard Boone,
Relative of Daniel Boone we presume,
Played a frontier man of a later time
Problem solving to earn a dime.

Copyright © Edward Johannes | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cowboy |

An Old Cowboy

An Old Cowboy

An old cowboy left yesterday.
Once drove herds over open range.
Many hardships along the way,
But a life he would never change.

Heard sound of cattle full stampede.
Rode days in slush up to his knees.
Tall in the saddle on his steed.
Broke, but had all a cowboy needs.

Up before dawn most of his days.
Often playing an old guitar,
Singing tunes about dusty trails,
And lost loves that were torn apart.

Old age and time at long last struck.
Glory gone like western ghost town.
Life’s work over and spent last buck,
A cowboy king without a crown.

Withdrew in deep grief and doubt,
His way of life had gone away.
Last words, “head ‘em up; move ‘em out”,
Old cowboy died yesterday

Copyright © David G. Moore | Year Posted 2017

Details | Verse |

Ronald Reagan: So Long Cowboy

Fold your tent now
Cowboy, the prairie sunset has come
Pull the hat low
Over the silent brow, let the horse go home
Without saddle,
It's round up time for you, the trail is done.
Bit and bridle;
O let it go free, and feel the weightless
World runs with it,
Put the branding iron down, blow out the sun;
The mind's habit
Shutting out the endless tedium and stress
Now can reclaim
The dignity that future-centered men
Denied; the fame
Past-centered men recalled and softly blend
With their own hopes;
And none but the dead ever realized.
Roll up the ropes
The cowboy no more rides, or seek the prize.
Rustlers die fast
Cowboys live long, lariat looping ferile glory;
Rodeo past,
The poled hat and belt tell all the final story.

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012