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Cowboy Dad Poems | Cowboy Poems About Dad

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

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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 | Elegy |


To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.

Copyright © Tom Hyam | Year Posted 2013

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 | 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 | Cowboy |

Cowboy Joe

Cowboy Joe

My dad Joe, often rode the circuit rodeo
He lasso'd horses from the word go
Often he'd break them for many a few
His lasso event went far, for his name's Joe

Many men tried to go faster and win before him
They all found out, they were all left out on a limb
Now Joe didn't have not one mean evil, evil streak
He rode on many long extended trips in his younger peak

And he was one of the best of the happy hunting men for game
Always brought home lots of food for us, so we could all tame
He was one of the best riding lasso of mem who was in Rodeo's Hall of fame
I'm so dang proud to have him as my gifted riding cowboy of a father

Now ya'll come on over and give us a loud caller
For we always got on a full pot of coffee or tea
Cause we all learned from our dearest parents
How to be and expect to respect strangers with 
hospitality and have extra edibles like peppermints.


Copyright © Eden Barton | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cowboy |

Lemonade With A Twister

The old West has porches made of wood
Two rockers creak away with Mom and pop on board
Reclining out their days and ages spent
Dreaming about the prairie days gone by
Tall glasses holding lemonade and ice 
Crash quietly as they dose off in Summer
Violence rises in the distance
The canyon can not hold it back
Above the noise dad and mom snore on
Floor boards and porches pull themselves together
Hound dog licks between the cracks
White under shirts hang out on the line
Blow furious kisses then surrender to the wind
Don't mind the storm or tumbleweeds
Tornadoes don't care either deep inside
Sweeping through the West in just an instance
Clearing out the landscape in the blinking of an eye
Leaving dust behind as a reminder
Why mom and dad are not reclining 
on their rockers any more

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cowboy |

Blue Moon Christmas

Jimmie’s dad was bent and wise, a man that life had rode by—
But Jim still recalled his words when he would laugh and half cry:
“Life’s a fragile balance between honor and what’s true—
A rare, livin’ miracle like a winter moon that’s blue.” 

Jimmie started busting sheep when he was only six—
His dad taught him to ride and shoot, and do those fancy tricks.
He grew long and lean on that ranch and helped with the chores—
And rode the broncs and young bulls then, keeping track of his scores.

His name was Jimmie Moon, but his friends just called “Blue”—
‘Cause kids like him were few and far and his heart was strong and true.
He had wisdom beyond his years – he had seen the light—
He never did the easy thing; he did the thing that’s right.

It came as no surprise; he married a girl named Liz
Folks knew was large with child that was another man’s, not his.
But that was fine with Blue and he still followed his star—
Ranching now part-time and riding bulls in the PBR.

“It’s not like the ol’ days,” smiled his dad, not being funny—
“Then bull ridin’ was for buckles – now you’re talkin’ money!”
But just as Jimmie Blue Moon was on the edge of fame—
September 11th happened and stirred within a flame.

Though his family begged him not to sign and go away—
He enlisted in the Army just the very next day.
Sure enough, his service to a cause became a fact
And he was sent far off to war in a place called Iraq.

Then months and years rolled by as Blue only rode iron tanks—
Never forgetting his wife and child, for which he gave thanks.
Then came a Christmas season when Blue’s ranch was deep with snow—
A knock on the door brought news Blue’s wife did not want to know.


Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy |

Blue Moon Christmas (continued)

But she would not even read it – she knew what lay within—
A red rage toward her country now the fire that was her friend.
Yet just a few days later on a now black Christmas Eve—
Another knock was heard from a cowboy come home on leave.

And Jim Blue Moon stood on the porch with presents in one arm,
A proof against dark forces wishing all of us great harm. 
He said like Twain, news of his death was exaggerated—
And with smiles his wife helped him in, and they celebrated.

Yet in the haze of happiness and all her loving care,
Only now did Liz realize Blue’s left arm was not there.
But snatching life from death’s dark rider is a precious thing,
And nothing could dispel the joy their reunion would bring.  

Then came the new Christmas day, which now seemed so clear and bright—
Yet Blue held back - flexed his cold metal arm in morning light.
“I wonder if it was worth it?” Blue mumbled at the sight—
But Liz nodded and said: “Yes, you did the thing that was right.”  

Then they slowly opened presents - three united again—
Later dad and mom came over, and each rodeo friend.
“PBR’s done,” dad whispered in a voice like from the grave—
“Heck no!” Blue then replied, “I just lost the arm that I wave!” 

Sure enough, with prosthetic arm, Blue rode the bulls once more—
Till he volunteered to go back to that faraway shore.
Alone, Jim’s wife held their child and the inner one so new—
As a full, pale Christmas moon rose and slowly turned to blue. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006

Details | I do not know? |


How can you cause all this pain
You say that you love Jesus so how can you take his name in vain
Every day was so insane
You always like to cause so much pain
What did you have to gain
At times I thought you have lost your mind
How could you be so unkind
Behind all these tears comes shame
I could say you are to blame
But I won't play that game

Copyright © martha heath | Year Posted 2005

Details | Cowboy |

Brownie's Calf

On those endless rides of childhood
Down trails of dark and light,
There are those that you remember
And those that haunt your night.

The green fresh days of farm and ranch
When you raised your first sow—
The flowing sea of bluestem grass,
The calf that was your cow.

You helped give life to Brownie’s calf
Or least so you did hope,
By helping tug its leg around—
Holding that bloody rope.

Then Dad said you could have that calf
To feed just like your own,
Then Brownie’s calf became your pet—
A friend when you’re alone.

Yet, you were big enough to know
The fate of each old cow,
Yet you knew this was different—
But you weren’t sure just how.

And so one day Brownie came home
And her calf was not there,
Then did the same, time and again—
But that calf was no where.

Now Brownie’s calf had gone away,
But you weren’t sure just where—
So Dad and you searched the far fields
In hopes you’d find her there.

Then to some woods and creek you came
Where birds flew overhead
And then the smell of that calves flesh
Told you that she was dead.

You turned and ran back to the ranch—
Sought out old Brownie’s face—
And knew that life is just a chance
But for our good Lord’s grace. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy |

Those Odessa Days

(A remembrance of driving to the auction in Odessa, Missouri.)

You’re bumpin’ down the highway in that ol’ pickup truck,
Just a kid slowly tunin’ in a radio that plays—
Headin’ for the stock auction with your dad and some luck—
A part of history, back in those Odessa days.

Dad will be biddin’ on some calves to haul way back home—
He fancies doin’ more farmin’ like in younger days—
He left the farm more than twenty years ago to roam,
To find a town job and turn his back on farmin’ ways.

But the land stays in your blood and someday you go back,
If not in bone and muscle, at least within your mind—
And you seek a part of youth—that’s just a natural fact,
For you’re always on the outlook for what you’ll never find.

You roll past green pastures and that churnin’ Mighty Mo,
Count the silos, barns and the cattle as you drive past—
Music fills the truck with songs of love and eatin’ crow—
Cowboys, beer, bar fights and pickups—things that never last. 

That ol’ black pickup rattles and bucks just like a bronc,
Its days, just like the horses, will soon come to an end—
And as we reach the auction, my dad pulls up to honk:
A ritual of completion for a son and now a friend.

And when we head on home with those calves all loaded up,
We’ll turn on that radio and sing in one sweet haze—
For in just a few years, there will sit dad’s empty cup
And there will just be memories of those Odessa days.        

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005

Details | I do not know? |

Hell is for children

 I am so tough,
You taugh me so much,
 I was never some damn cream puff.
But I still feel your touch.
 Oh Dad I loved you so,
How could you hurt me like that,
 You even threatened my bro,
You left me so flat.
 You stole my childhood,
Destroyed my life,
 What made think you could.
In my heart you put the knife.
 But made a enemy and knew you would.
Oh how I wanted to hurt you.
 I wanted you to feel my pain.
But I never could fill your shoe.
 It was all in vain.
I will die wondering why,
 I was your favorite,
All you did Dad was let me cry.
 You gave me such a fight.

Copyright © donna Phillips | Year Posted 2005

Details | I do not know? |

Hell is for children

 I am so tough,
You taugh me so much,
 I was never some damn cream puff.
But I still feel your touch.
 Oh Dad I loved you so,
How could you hurt me like that,
 You even threatened my bro,
You left me so flat.
 You stole my childhood,
Destroyed my life,
 What made think you could.
In my heart you put the knife.
 But made a enemy and knew you would.
Oh how I wanted to hurt you.
 I wanted you to feel my pain.
But I never could fill your shoe.
 It was all in vain.
I will die wondering why,
 I was your favorite,
All you did Dad was let me cry.
 You gave me such a fight.

Copyright © donna Phillips | Year Posted 2005