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Cowboy Angst Poems | Cowboy Poems About Angst

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

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Details | Acrostic |

Cowboys Cry Too

C  casually stands next to his saddled horse
O  openly he weeps (so) full of his remorse
W  what is left of pale pink running rose that grew
B   blood floods from thorn pricks he's getting his due
O   oh! tangled web with his love he did weave
Y   yesterday she discovered all his cowboy lies believed

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2011

Details | Didactic |

Choose your shortcuts wisely

Shortcuts are best suited to desktop on the computer,
Not intended for the average commuter.
You will always get cut short, if you try one from a plane,
And shortcuts from a train only ends in pain.
Your stay on a ship may be short, should you slip.
Cars don't normally fly, so don't even try.
One on a bike, could result in quite a hike.
A shortcut while running, is not very cunning.
Walking with a book, may change the way you look.

Shortcuts should not be undertaken by the average builder,
Not even for a guilder.
Any shortcuts with tools, is only for fools.
It could be your loss, if you take shortcuts to please the boss.
Trying them when you cook, will only make you crook.
Shortcuts while cutting up food, may not put you in the mood to eat that food.
And shortcuts when unwell, could find you down a well.
A shortcut when drinking, will set other's hearts to aching.
If you are looking for fun, don't take a shortcut with a gun.

Getting caught short makes shortcut a must, if you don't want to bust.
A shortcut from a map, will see no mishap.
Dogs and large cats in your way, makes a shortcut ok.
Avoiding a fight sometimes necessitates one, even excuses having to run.
Though my best advice, before you hit the wall,
Most shortcuts are no use at all.
Manage your time and your shortcuts will decline.

If reading this has made you late,
I take no responsibility for any shortcut, you care to contemplate.

Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez | 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 | 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 | Senryu |

Tombstone - Like The Four Horsemen

they walked along
weathered, carrying their guns;
like the four horsemen…

down to the O.K.
guns blazing, bullets flying;
smoke clears, the strong stand…

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Saying Goodbye

I cried as I said goodbye today,
To my best childhood friend;
As my tears fall I wish you could stay,
I never thought it would end;

You snort and bump me with your nose,
Trying to tell me it’s alright;
If I’ll see you again, nobody knows,
Tears are blurring my sight;

“It’s time” Mom calls from outside,
And I lead you out of your stall;
Trying to hide the tears that I’ve cried,
With my head up, I try to walk tall;

I give you a hug and breathe in your scent,
Then hand over your lead rope;
Questioning vaguely where our time went,
Praying that I can cope;

And as they drive away with you,
I drown myself in tears;
I’m lost, I don’t know what to do,
As I think back on our years;

And as my tears start to dry,
I think of the good times and the bad;
I never thought I’d have to say goodbye,
To you, the best friend I ever had.

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |

the sniper

The Sniper 

The man who in his delusion shot and killed Kyle
 all American sniper who boasted of killing
167 Arabs. A film was made and USA applauded
and no doubt it will receive an Oscar.
A movie that totally lack empathy, what does one
expect of a Clint Eastwood, only this sniper Kyle
was for real and not a western invention.

Is this a war movie? Deeply disturbing morality,
killing for the sake of it. Our hero Kyle found his
death on the shooting range and the man who 
killed him was an American soldier too who put
an end to our false gods and war values, for him 
a lethal injection awaits the killer of the American dream . 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ghazal |


I once told a lie 
as I looked her in the eyes
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

Details | Carpe Diem |


Your  love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of 
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and  i'm 
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those 
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and 
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried 
by the dove of someone I use to know.

Copyright © Sam Ruby | Year Posted 2013

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 | Year Posted 2011

Details | Verse |

Last Chance Saloon

NOTE: I don't find the time, neither do I have much inclination, to write a great deal these 
days. However, the occasional new piece gets composed, and this is one. I would like to take 
this opportunity to thank everyone - Ruben, Raul, Andrew, Elaine, Patricia, Carol, Adeleke, 
Krista, Trudi, Kristin, Bill, Shishir, Sami, James, Trudi and many, many others - who have 
been so kind, supportive and appreciative both now and in the past. You are stars. I am in 
your debt.

I know it's not the happiest piece, but it's what I have at the moment.


Last Chance Saloon:

The deadbeat shuffle from Boardwalk to Boot Hill
Implores the synapse circuit of a short walk to the kill,
With one foot out of line one soon is gone
In Winter rains that fell all Summer long;
Never once did Zeus advise to pack a bag,
Only suck it up and tread the old main drag.

When first she shed her morals and her dress,
The channel burn adored her more than less,
Post-coital walks, romancing in the sun
Beat a path to living in the shadow of the gun;
As expectation always lets one down,
Rends the heart in two by softly skipping town.

From the stained-glass of an alcoholic haze
Wherein kaleidoscopic migraines snap and blaze,
The rusty barrelled gun scrapes at the head,
All the chambers full of coals and glowing red;
She resurfaces like some immortal doll,
And each bullet tastes of paracetamol.

So to raise the weary glass to mouth again,
To curse and toast her godforsaken name,
To down the medicine and down some more
And ride the bona-fide revolving bat-swing door;
Swear by saints alive to never leave this room,
No more chances left to chance in this last chance saloon.

Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2009

Details | Dramatic monologue |

The simple songs

Take him since it were
your foreboding morgue,  
Even at this point of 
moribund time, 
Take me you monks and 
nuns in synod, On behalf 
is rollicking, and 
opprobrious that am the 
oracle , The simperer of 
all billings, 
Buried ever in your unruly 

Copyright © kelechi Emeaba | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Down In Memphis

This poem came about by a discussion at work describing a memphis burger and a classic one. I told someone they flowed together and they didn't believe me so I wrote this:

I went down to memphis
There was this, classic chick
With them hips, and red lipstick
A kiss so delicious that
I promised to this miss I would not dissapear
But I was dishonest, I thought I made it clear
That this situation between the two of us
Was not serious But she was delrious
Became so furious that
That month she had two periods
It only takes one to end my sentence
25 to life, Im not doin the time on that sentence
Doesn't matter if she gets me presents
Don't care if she gets madder that I am not present, 
yet she gets sadder cause she still feels my presence
It wont be pleasant, if she doesnt let me leave peacefully
So I packed my things in the middle of the night
Took off asap so she couldn't pick a fight
Flew right back to my little house on the right
Split so fast like Kim Kardash was my wife
Realized that I just dodged a couple of knifes
It seems whack, But I just had to run and hide
This commital thing isnt for me
I am brittle, I crack too easily
Got to be careful cause I need Room to wiggle cant be
Strangled or tied down, I know It'll come back around
Hurt triple the times when karma
Shoots me down from the sky
So for right now, sayonara, beddy bye
Nice to know ya, good night

Copyright © Mike Conway | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cowboy |

Too Far From the Trail

Has America’s spirit strayed off the trail?
Have we found what’s in every canyon
Or have we failed?

Will we let the bad guys win and try no more?
See Lady Liberty as something
To just deplore?

Have we seen the elephant grow soft and weak
As the donkey only sits and brays,
But does not speak

Or see the wild anger in our horse’s eyes
As they promise us those gold cities
And tell more lies.

America has strayed too far off the trail—
We wait a great judgment from the West
Cloaked in black veil.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2009

Details | Cowboy |


I'll cut you into little pieces, 
push you down underground. 
I'll let maggots feast on you, 
just to see broken flesh. 

I'm glad you understand my twisted self, 
and you take part of my daily bread. 
I'm going to hang you from 
the highest star in the heavens, 
burning your laughter from your lungs.

I'd be joyful, emotionless, 
wreckage not even God Himself can undo. 
Underground the maggots chew and chew, 
hey girl there I see you.

Copyright © Maura McGregor | 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 | I do not know? |



Screaming silently for that one breath

of life...

that whirling maelstrom of beaten-down loss upon wrap-around defeat

of life...

that mercilessly shovels heaps of leaden rubble as you try to get back on your feet


mute and dumbly flailing in the raging torrent

of being...

but a mere speck of dirt on the tapestry of a world, that at times, is quite abhorrent


quietly wishing to surrender to the nothingness that seductively beckons, as you gasp


hoping against all hope that a lifeline would appear suddenly within your grasp


yet caught in the ghastly waters of unchartered isolation


a trickle of hope amidst the gushing liquid of sheer desolation


whilst holding on to slivers of sanity when blistering madness calls out to you


faltering weaknesses snap and gnaw at your state of being, out of the pristine clear blue


i have felt the pull of life's devious current as it has stripped me of my self and left me naked and bare

and still...

i fight with every suffocating breath left within

to surface and to cling onto

another gulp of life's coarse and putrid air...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Cowboy |

Moccasin Moon

It slides softly in the night sky,
That pale moccasin of the moon—
It lights up a snow-bleached prairie—
Whispering summer comes too soon.

We trace the trail of coyotes—
Avoid the dark dens of the bear—
The full light of your white footprint
Lures us now to your fatal lair.

Oh, we chant into the black dome
Of all the things that used to be—
There’s no more Indian summer—
Long gone are Cree and Cherokee.

Yet, still the silky stealthy tread
Brings back images bright and keen—
Of lost Native Americans
Where so few are now seldom seen.

But moons do not let us forget
All the wild blood shed on both sides—
As we trace steps of moccasins
To where the dark of the moon hides.

Yes, it walks gently in tall sky,
That faint moccasin of new moon—
So gently it illuminates
As we dance mutely to its tune.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2008

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 | Year Posted 2011

Details | Cowboy |

Sing Me a Song

Sing Me a Song

Oh, sing me a song of cows and campfires
And dream back to those days that are long past;
Of empty bunkhouse and tall mountain spires,
Of old west ghost towns and things that won't last.

Think back to trail drives and prairie house sod
And sing me a tune of lost western lore;
Of thunder stampede and starlight of God,
Of worn-out saddles and what comes no more.

Oh, listen now will you, to times gone by--
Low singing round fires with voice soft and sure;
Hear with stone ears of that which makes us cry:  
Old times flown by and the days that were pure.

Sing again now as we head up that hill,
Soak in the horn moon of deep starry night;
The horses are mute but drink up their fill--
Our past is forever and dark is light.

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Cowboy |

Those Lucky Trees

Thanks, Joe,
Was one of those trees Fred's?
I'll send you some ointment...

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Parallelismus Membrorum |

FREE CEE death in D flat

                           DEATH IN D FLAT

The song begins with a high note and ends on a low
And denotes the notes urged and surged in between
In the center of the song the brass begins to blow
But then a piccolo portends the end of pert and pristine

At first the fiddles finery finesses a flute
While a violin steals a viola’s heart
Suddenly a dulcimer and a drum declare a dispute
When, of course, a pinewood piano pulls them apart

The maestro keeps time measured quite well
With a baton beckoning beauty from a band renown
The crescendo cradles a symphony’s swell
But the vexing vocalist’s voice dons a deceptive gown

Then choreographed is the chorus, the chorals and bells
With a timpani to teach a trombone what it never before tried 
Oh, from the choir comes the groans of ten thousand hells
And the misery music made when our romance and the rhythm died 
                            © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

A Cowboy Is

The movements of others to far away lands
Drifted into American folklore, within histories hands

Fur trappers they started many centuries ago
In a country to become as the years truly flowed

Centennial by centennial, amidst wars between they
Slowly they emerged into cattle driven play

The vast expanses of prairies so green
Lured Barons of the beast to their riches they always dreamed

Herds in vast amounts recreating the Bison's exist
Where they eventually replaced in numbers, in numerous consist

The eventuality of the Iron Horse, opened these lands up even more
Sheridan, White Oaks even Tombstone, led to street filled open sores

The James Gang and William Bonney, are two that history has shown
No care for what they declared that the Wild West was their throne

The sad thing about the cowboy era, is in the scenery that was left behind
On many a prairie from their past, where greed has left them so blind

We have the opportunity to look back and rewind, for hindsight allows us to do
So many were never ever heroes, just what do we find in them so true

Just for a moment to the future, whilst countries in our time have been invaded
They are the modern Indigenous, like the past, the cowboys left degraded

The above are written from my heart, if you know me you will know me to be true
For if I was born to the Indigenous, to your ancestors, I'd stand in front of you

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Cowboy |

Come To Jesus Meeting

She said it was come to Jesus 
But it wasn't held in a church
Familiar as I am with the 
Who knew that Jesus cursed. 

She started out on football
And the way I sat and 
Then rolled her eyes when I 
pointed out
She was talking about God's 
own football team. 

Then she made some 
unmentionable comment 
About how it wasn't right
That somehow one of my 
Needed to go drinking every 

When I politely tried to tell her
She was blowing things out of 
She said you better get new 
some friends
Who knew the meaning of the 
word extortion

When I asked what it was she 
She said it's really no big 
Treat me like I'm still you're 
number one 
Not second fiddle to your 
rowdy boys

Copyright © Joe Murphy | Year Posted 2014

Details | Cowboy |

Rhyme of the Ancient Rodeo Rider

Travel trailers, trophy buckles
And Blue Ribbon bottles,
Litter my ol’ lonely landscape
Of rodeo battles.

I lost a few and won a few
And traveled down the road—
I lived for that 8-second ride—
Thought town jobs were a load.

I cowboyed up and cowboyed down—
Touched too many a heart—
I never realized all those dreams—
Greet folks at the WalMart.

Trailers, trophies and stale warm beer—
Rodeo don’t seem real—
They’re all just empty as my life—
Now I know how cows feel. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2008

Details | Epitaph |

Lake Elisa

Lake Eliza
Out by poor old  Lake Elisa lived a moody ancient miser.
Who bemoaned his fate throughout the livelong day.
lived further west than Isa out where the heat and flies are.
So he plotted as he moaned "I'll find a way?".
Oh this fellow loved a lady one Cherolyn O'Grady,
so besotted while he sauntered from insanity to mad.
For it seems she was his sister Joe O'Grady never kissed her,
She'd run off to Coolgardie selling favours to the sad.
Oh it seems his mind could wander,
through the desert just out yonder.
It got sunstruck when his hat it blew away.
In his youth there'd been a Rhonda.
Who'd enticed him made him fonder.
But the tribe had gone on walkabout the next day .
Though really none the wiser, he set out from the Isa,
Went to Brisbane met a shiela sweet and gay.
It was down in the Valley, she had whiskers this O'Malley,
blue round the jowls, Joe loved her anyway.
She took him home to her place into the bedroom they raced,
Joe's mouth it opened slackjawed in suprise .
For it seems she wasn't dinkum through the haze of grog he's drinking.
Saw parts of her to trade for many lies.
This city woman strange wanted money had no change,
Took his fifty as she pushed him out the door .
Hooked like a dog to mange, could a wedding he arrange? 
But she dumped him anyhow cos Joe was poor. 
So back to Lake Elisa went this sodden whinging miser.
Drowning sorrows O.P. rum, drinking bottles by the score,
Just a little sad but wiser, now he'd never leave Elisa.  So he drank himself to death
there by her shore...by Don Johnson

Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |


Down on my luck again--it's nuthin' new.
Just outside of Pecos, with a dream that's overdue.
But I got my entry fee, here in my boots, 
and I don't intend to lose.

All broken up again, it's nuthin' new.
Just outside of Pecos, with a busted rib, or two.
But I got my entry fee, here in my boots,
and I don't intend to lose.

There's a bronc, I know, waitin' here in Pecos,
wantin' to throw, every cowboy in Pecos,
I been throwed a time, or two.
It's the rodeo, takin' me to Pecos,
but you never know, this might be my last Pecos,
since I met you.

Wonder if that bronc ever could be rode?
Just outside of Pecos, and my feet are gettin' cold.
But I got my entry fee, here in my boots, and I don't intend to lose.
I'll ride that bronc, I know,
I'll ride that bronc, I know.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |


The buffalo are gone
but close your eyes
on a stormy night
and you'll find them
thunder'ng o'er the plains again 

The tall prairie grass 
has given way to progress
Skyscrapers & super highways
but when the wind blows
you can feel ‘em
 brush across your skin 

The proud warriors
whose lives were given
in protecting the old ways
when I close my eyes
Rise up to ride again 

What it must've been 
to see the great buffalo
grazing on tall prairie grass
and hear the warrior's hunt cry
I'll close my eyes & dream

Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005

Details | Cowboy |


In a room stark & white 
A nightmare he will ride tonight 
Twisted sheets in a rider's grip 
as he settles in for that fateful trip 
silently he screams & shouts 
This time there'll be no turn out 
The final clash of beast & man 
In the mind's arena plays out again 
Once was a time he was among the best 
Until that Brahma stepped on his chest 
Now he's locked in a ride he can't quit 
as his wife & his family at his bedside sit 
How he longs to be up & out of this bed 
Away from the demons in his head 
But you can't drown a nightmare in morphine 
And every night he rigs up again 

In a room stark & white 
She'll replay the ride tonight 
"Just one more ride & I'm done 
I've got to help raise our son" 
He'd said as he climbed in the chute 
and straddled that Brahma brute 
With a nod & a prayer, he marked out 
His last would be his best, no doubt 
Then, with a sudden twist & a flash of horn 
The cowboy from his seat was torn 
She watched him fall & struggle to rise 
Numb to the crowd's horrified cries 
Now she sits here each night without rest 
Cradling their baby boy close to her chest 
How she longs to have him hold her near 
Later, she reaches for the bottle to chase the fear 
But you can't drown a nightmare in whiskey 
And every night she rigs up again 

Under the arena's bright lights 
He'll dance with a nightmare tonight 
Wearing a greasepaint smile to hide the pain 
He plays out that fateful ride again 
One step out of rhythm & rhyme 
He'd lost the race against Brahma & time 
Word's haunt him still of a Cowboy's last request 
After that Brahma had stomped on his chest "Tell Katie I love her & I'm sorry for this" 
"If I'd listened to her, I'd not be in this mess" 
"You & the boys take care of her & my son" 
"I hear the chopper landing, guess this ride is done" 
How he wishes he could run that race once more 
The memory pushes him hard, it won't be ignored 
But you can't mask a nightmare with greasepaint 
And every night he rigs up again 

A wild Bullrider, loved one or clown 
no matter the poison the memory won't drown 
Nightmares, whiskey, greasepaint or morphine 
Can't kill the demons that ride through your dreams

Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005