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Cowboy Journey Poems | Cowboy Poems About Journey

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

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Details | Free verse |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Wild Western Blizzard

What could I really know of the breaks 
                                                                in the land
huge canyons               bleeding red              cut by the wind
with the snow swirling                                  around our tires
barns upright 
                                   and fallen to a  tumble like icebergs
windshield riming over with a crust of ice
                        we scrape madly inside
                              trying to keep cold out
speed slowing
slowing to a crawl
always on the lookout
outside line appearing and gone, 
                                                                    no worries about
cattle led inside to safety    to be watered               and fed
but what of us?
                       Will we be trapped clutching a candle
                             wanting a chocolate bar, 
                                 waiting for a tractor?
and all the flat seeming land seems to have ditches
and roof pitches and rushing trees, and a swirl
                         of slumbering snow 
                                             to lumber down in drifts and piles
no fire would ever warm us
                                                                temperature dropping
            until finally we see it                shining in the dark
                                          a lantern at a farm
a fleet of snow mobiles to greet  us
                                                                   scurry is off 
                             before our ears turn blue, 
                                would they fall off?
Luckily, not tonight, not in this blizzard, 
                                                                      we have home.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

A Journey Bourne

Ah war out a walkin
Ut war a Sunday morn
Mah chores war all did
Warn't no need fer me et home

Ah walks along tha river
What does goes by er place
Hearin tha crickets singin
Un watchin dragonflies un tha chase

Tha rivers a little lively
Fer tha rain done brung er up
Un stead uve a little girgle
Ut souns more like "sup"

Ah war almost ta mah favor ite log 
Wen ah does sees a dog
He jist stans un looks et me
N ah's goes walkin up

Then ah' see's uh movement
Un ut war a horse 
He sniffs tha air un stares et me
Un never makes a noise

Over thar un mah log
Un much ta mah surprise
 War un ol' man sittin 
Un never even blinks un eye

Ah jist kinda moz ies over
Un sits down un tha end
Tryin hard not ta bothers um
Cause he war a snorin

Then thar war a little sound
Frum a rock across tha way
We's both looks ovar thar
Ta see's what tha frog has ta say

As he war a sayin his piece
The dog cumed right up
He war gonna catch tha guy
But he has ta swims tha river first

Than tha horse done gived a whinney
Un walks up ta tha man
Nuzzlin tha fellers cheek
An pawin tha white san'

Ah sez "I's sorry 
If'n I's buttin un"
Tha ol' man done shakes his head
Tilts his hat un sez "No mam"

"We's jist un a journey
Un sides ta takes a break
Ut war kinda perty here
So we's jist sits here un tha shade"

"Horse youse jist stops ut
Her ain't did nothin wrong
Her jist likes ta listen ta 
Tha little feller's song"

"Dog youse cumes back here
Youse don't likes ta swim
If'n youse two don't calms down
We'll be's un er way again

"Well ah's sorry mam
Ut's still perty early un tha morn
But ah guesses Wild Lighten un Duke
Er ready ta goes un with er journey bourne"

Cile Beer

Thanks Bob Hinshaw for the idea

Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |

Town Called RotGut

Armadilly Billy the Sling Shot Kidster was steadily on the move.
He was leaving the Southwest and his reputation behind, for sure!
Every gunslinger was out for him and of killing he’d become tired.
Even the weather was being surly, as a dust storm was blowing wild.

Traveling way too long, he came across a town he’d never seen before.
The sign said ‘Welcome to RotGut, Rest Here, We’re a friendly town.’
Shelter he was a seeking, in that town of RotGut, only one night, to tell.
His horse enclosed in the livery, he entered the saloon, out of the wind.
The piano was a playing, a lively tune as he, slowly opened up the door.
Everyone stilled, as him they did peruse, as he wandered up to the bar.

The ruckus resumed quickly, as he stated that he was, just a passing thru.
The whiskey tasted mighty sweet, a smell of it lingered in the air, too.
The girls were friendly, so he bought one some, as a patron eyed him on.
A deck of cards flashed in the gamblers hands, as a six-gun laid beside.

The gambler waved him over saying, it’s been kind of dead here, of late.
Surprisingly, no one seemed to know him, no one trying to make a name.
Relieved no one would have to die that night, he joined the poker game.
The night became finally peaceful, as he was welcomed into the game.

Around 2 in the morning, the whiskey and trek was taking its toll, a shame.
He climbed the stairs to his room, lulled asleep by the sounds downstairs.
Morning dawned bright and early, with the dust storm long gone away.
And the room looked, Oh So Different, within the new light of the day.

Curtains faded and shredded, limp with dust, a room full of decay…
Abandoned eons ago... The banisters in the hallway were broken apart.
The saloon downstairs was disheveled, with barely anything left in tact.
Only the table in the corner, seemed to have withstood the test of time.

And sitting right there, at that corner table, a deck of old cards remained.
Not a speck of dust was upon them, as he tipped his hat, a final goodbye.
Then he moseyed out to the livery, which was in equally bad disarray.
No one had been here, in neigh on forever, was all that he could tell.

A dried up old western town, with tumbleweed blowing everywhere around.
Still he left a tip for the care of his horse, for he wouldn’t be unkind, of course.
He left the town of RotGut, a lonely and eerie oasis, in the bright light of day.
At the edge of town he tipped his hat, to RotGut, for the kindness… displayed.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Cowboys in the Badlands

Cowboys in the Badlands 

Out West, across the great divide
great open spaces oceans wide.
Beauty in these badlands does hide
everything fights us as we ride.

Last stop, was exciting wild Abilene
shot an hombre that was very mean.
Watched him bleed as he slowly died
his gal held him and loudly she cried.

Before, she had sworn love to me
next his dying love she swore to be.
Riding away fast, ahead of the Law
looking back, cloud of dust we saw.

My partner lit out on me last night
cried this was surely not his fight.
He turned back east galloping so fast
we had our time, had a damn blast. 

Ahead the badlands beckon me on
this cowboy life sets me all alone.
Hot as hell the water miles ahead
A night's rest to clear my head.

Morning sun woke me to great heat
no bread, bacon and eggs to eat.
Precious water is in very short supply
always fleeing, I ponder just why.

No time to enjoy such pretty views
my path ahead, my life I must choose.
Avoiding Indians and the chasing men
forever alone with never a friend.

This beauty now I can slow to see
posse has surely given up on me.
Coyotes call , rattlesnakes do hiss
comfort of town I do sorely miss.

Found now, a dusty trail to old Mexico 
across the Rio Grande I now go.
Far behind, hell's horses race after me
dancing with pretty senoritas I'll soon be!


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Cowgirl Up

Rise at first light.
This cowgirl enters up to ride this day.
She dawns her hat, for this is not any day.

Ready to pay her dues.
The sun will beat down,
hot and hard is how she'll ride.

Cowgirl up!
Into the shoot we go.
The blood pumping, muscles quivering.
Ready to go!

The gate slams open.
Off we go!
 My mustang and me,
to round that first barrel.

Away we go!
Rounding our second barrel.
Sweat trickling.

Thundering down to that third barrel.
We round that barrel,
the dust will follow.

With a war cry, 
We head down the long path home.
Followed by cheers and jeers,
she crosses the line!
Cowgirl is up and paid her dues.

Copyright © Gypsyof Essence | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |

Heart Of The Pioneer -Together We Have Made This Journey

P  assion and love
I  nstilled in the hearts
O  f the weary
N  ever giving in to the 
E  lements
E  agerly pushing forward
R  elying only on each other and Gods strength to survive

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |


Unlikely the explorers of the Wild West,
I'm bound for sheer adventure, not amazing discovery;
finding gold is far from any quest 
while this clanking, slow-moving stream locomotive
will take me to places so primitive... 
even a small ghost town has tales that conjure mystery!  

Whistle along train as your steam puffs...
reaching clouds and turning them into raindrops,
California is still a seeker's dream for the unhappy folks living 
in bustling cities enduring noise and pollution;
soundless are the canyons drifting
by without any fearless cowboy riding,
but the watchful coyotes will resent this intrusion...
whenever your whistle startles them when they are napping!

Whistle along train as your steam puffs,
I didn't bring along a single book to read not to be distracted by reality,   
only a huge map showing me historic towns...
where daily shootings were as common as drinking whiskey!
Imagine seeing the ghosts of Billy the Kid and Jesse James 
roam the dusty streets ready to start a gunfight;
see crowds gather and wait for the winner to shout...
it's like watching a Clint Eastwood's western movie drawing his guns!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Rodeoman is here for contest

Saying your a rodeo rider
Makes it sound so much fun
But living hand to mouth
I assure you isnt fun at all

Make sure your timid horse
Is well fed and warm
Your second in this pecking order
Keeping well is your aim

Driving from one venue
To another i assure you  isnt good
But the visions that you see at night
Makes the journey understood

The rising and the setting sum
Is a feast for the eyes
A mental picture that you carry
When your mouth is dusty and dry

When saddling up that muscular horse
To ride into the arena
An adrenaline rush is prevalent
To ride  those 8 seconds clean

The satisfaction of big money
When winners are announced
Makes all worthwhile for you
To saddle up for another  event

So I tap my hat
Pack up my gear
Pick up a six pack
A few hours to sleep.
Before the next journey 

So watch out
A Rodeoman is coming to town.

Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2013

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 | Triolet |


Clad in boots and jeans with hat and gun
The cowboy ready for a long day run
A stallion for his ride, rope on his side

Diggin' tappin' taming on the vast terrain
Tending herds of cattle, sheep and cows
Sweat dripping unhidden to his brow

Browny tough and skilled Rodeo man
Soothened the bull on his crazy dance
Crowd cheers - a resonating clang

Sunshine sleeps and night sky creeps
With guitar and cigar, the Cowboy sits and sings
Humming: Yodelay -hee ho! Yodelay - hee ho!

(c) Olive ELoisa
6:59 pm 
April 30, 2014

SPONSOR: Shadow Hamilton
11th place

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Canyon winds caress the soul
Grazing sheep warm the heart
Dine' children play in the creek
childish giggles that make us laugh 
With you here beside me
The journey begins
The horses nicker
breaking the silence 
Silence wraps around us, 
Mother Earth holding us to her
As we journey deeper 
Ancient drums begin to stir
Can you hear the Ancients calling?
Welcoming us to the tribal fire
Dancing in celebration of our Love 

Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme |

Stranger In Town

He rode into town one sweltering day,
He seemed to be in deep thought. 
His quietness was very much in display,
In reality he was very distraught.

Tanned from the sun to a high degree,
Appearing parched from the amazing heat,
He remained in the saddle, totally carefree,
His journey was now complete.

No one knew where his journey commenced
Nor what was his purpose at hand.
Solitude was all that was here dispensed,
All wondered what he had planned.

Then as quickly as he had arrived
He nudged his tired horse on.
The town had from danger all survived,
The stranger was suddenly gone.

Copyright © DrJim Martin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Cowboy |

The Journey

I've been on this journey for over a year , it's hard to imagine.  For a whole year I have held 
the reigns up here on the wagon. It's a long trip down a winding mountain road. My foot is on 
the break, can I control this heavy load? I had lots of doubt when I started this journey. 
Would I misjudge the next curve and wind up on a gurney? Up the next steep grade will my 
team stumble and fall? Down the upcoming grade will the break hold at all? The road is long 
and down it I trod. Riding shotgun ,is my good buddy God. So I will hitch up my team and 
take the reigns everyday. Before I lay down, I will humbly pray. At every sunrise I will ask 
him to guide me. I will follow his will down life's endless highway. Remember the road you 
have traveled behind you. The end is far but don't let it blind you. Stay on course, remember 
your task. God will grant you new life. You just have to ask.

Copyright © mike stagner | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |

English Cowboy

English Cowboy

I see a Cowboy walking down the street…
He looks like he’s a stranger here, from a place I have never been.
He tips his hat at the ladies and they are all smiling back at him.
If I bought myself a cowboy hat, they still would never smile at me.
Because I’m an English man in England,
I cannot stand out from the crowd;
But the Cowboy walking down this London street,
He ain’t looking like no clown.

He owns his style and he walks so proud;
That is something I could never do.
In this place I am always lost, somehow.
Maybe if I went to his land, I could find myself in tune.

He’s heading for his hometown;
I’m walking out on mine.
I see him at the airport,
Waving all those smiling ladies goodbye.
When we land over in his land,
He just becomes the same as all the rest.
I walk into the nearest bar and order myself a drink…
Oh my God!  I love your accent!

I’m a stranger in a stranger town
And I feel as if I’m right at home.
I’m so glad I left those London streets;
Maybe I could have stayed, but sometimes you just have to go…

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

The Journey Through America's Hell

The desert breeze
Blowing across sun baked sands
Lifeless eternity going off in all directions
Tracks of wagons show through beneath the blue skies
Centuries of dust lifted into the air by swirling winds
Covering every trace that life was ever there
Heat as hot as any oven roasts even the strongest soul
Water holes that were there one day
Dried up overnight
Surrounded by the bones of horses left behind
And the graves of a few men
Buried by love ones left to suffer
How did they make it?
What made them push on through Hell on Earth?
In the distance there were mountains
Maybe a day away
Most likely a month
Snow covered peaks tempt the soul
Plush with the tallest trees draw them to the west
With rivers flowing like strings of jewels
Rolling down moss covered rocks
Toward the deep blue green sea
The smell of the pine
The clean scent of a waterfall
Drifts across the empty sands
Filling the few left with hope
People and horses struggle
Suffer through pain unimagined by others
Hours, days and weeks more
To stand at the foot of the Rockies
And get a look at the Promised Land
So they will suffer no more

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2009