< once there was a man named trader Joe
could do nothing with hair so let grow
under big coonskin hat
fleas tick and his pet rat
mercantile's just say Oh Hell No
once there was saloon name lucky spur
where traders brought in their hunted furs
in walks old trader Joe
miss Molly said let's go
now both itch scratch from leftover burrs
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
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
< beneath swollen ..... moon
in pasture of...... rolling hills
standing ....hind quarters
a beautiful black ...... stallion
simply took my breath ........ away
A Memory Of Beauty
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010
With power from his hooves,
Tough thunder. He whinnies and snorts...
Copyright © Heather Lewis | Year Posted 2007
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
We rose from primal stew and God’s full blooming tree—
We grew tall, strong and brave – wild as the wind we ran.
Our fear and swiftness kept us safe from plain to sea,
While only one could tame us: the one known as man.
Still the wind was ours, as we flew throughout this earth—
We bore our burdens well with weight upon our back;
We stopped when we were called by that upon our girth—
Pain seared our mouths and sides to tell us what we lack.
And so it’s come to this; that no more we run wild—
We forge common freedoms that only trust will span—
Yet there are those among us free as any child—
But most ride their narrow trails guided still by man.
So hoof on soil we sail; both joined at hip it seems—
The horse and man alone – the open skies our dreams.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2010
I love my Mousey,
She lives in a field in BrushCreek, Tennessee,
Walking with her her of cattle,
As happy as she will ever be.
Without this there would be only she,
And i could make her as happy as me,
I miss her immensly, for thee i wish well,
For everyday i wish she wont sell,
And I could show her in the Dekalb County Fair,
I would sell never an ounce of her.
Hehe not even one of her little white hairs.
Even when all the way over there,
Mine she is for no one but me to share, if I do so happen to dare.
Cute as a button,
A button her nose may well be,
Where I first touched her sweet little body,
Not once but twice sweetly,
For wherever she goes I could spot her, along with her sister and mother.
Many a mile away, for she is not at all,
Not at all what you would say a little grayish thing.
But a heifer who grows daily,
Only to shove the motherly tears away.
In my eyes though, she will always be, forever and always, my baby girl, my sweetie,
my beautiful girl, my Mousey
Copyright © Jessie Howell | Year Posted 2010
One eye was brown, the other blue,
Australian Shepard his breed-
a workin' dog with one heck of a nip
to the heels a cattle an' steed.
Just a little fur ball when I got him,
but I well remember the time,
he could out run 'n outsmart the lot,
an' make 'em all turn on a dime.
Those cold prairie nights, sleepin' under the stars,
that dog would warm my ol' bones,
I'd play my mouth-harp to settle the herd
while he sang in soft muffled tones.
Last winter there came a fierce blizzard,
we were caught in a mighty snowdrift.
Ol' Blue hunkered down, an' just held his ground,
saved us both from descendin' a cliff.
They talk about loyal in people,
an' I reckon there are quite a few,
but I trusted my life, even more than a wife,
to that mangy ol' dog name of Blue.
His muzzle fin'lly was grayin',
an' his gate turned to limpin' 'n slow,
but no matter the job I was doin',
he'd follow wherever I'd go.
One mornin', I rose from my dreamin'
but Ol' Blue just didn't get up;
I saw in his bed that slumberin' head,
an' thought sure he resembled a pup.
Now, cryin' just ain't in my nature,
nor whinin' 'bout things I can't change,
but I gotta confess, my heart broke at best,
an' was sad 'n plenty deranged.
I laid him to rest on the prairie
for the coyotes to sing him a song,
'cause no dog was quite so deservin'
to live on this Earth for so long.
An' if there's a Heaven for doggies,
I'm sure that's where Blue is today-
waggin' his tail, an' just proud as hell
of the work that he done without pay.
Copyright © Tamara Hillman | Year Posted 2005
He was to be for my daddy, they'd said
as they scooped him up from the pick up bed
He was speckled & flop eared & soft as a sigh
My Daddy knew he had lost by the look in my eye
With his masked bandit eyes, only one name seemed right
Thus, Ringo, was christened that long ago April night
Part wolf, part samoyed, part collie & aussie
He would herd anything from small kids to old Bossy
Every morning he'd walk me to the school yard gate
Every afternoon he'd return & patiently wait
When I graduated from high school in June of ‘82
I argued with the principal that he deserved a diploma, too
Wherever I wandered he was close at my side
Through my childhood years, we roamed far & wide
We hiked every inch of the old Hilton Spread & the Total Wreck, as well
I knew to bring him in with me, when my daddy would start to yell
He moved quick & shadow silent & hardly ever made a sound
But just say the word "Ranch" & watch him come unwound
He loved to chase the rabbits & running with the 'yotes
Its to his credit that some coyote pups had speckled coats
I learned to trust his instinct when the fellers started to call
Why, when his hackles started rising, I knew to end it all
He'd step in between us & stare them down to size
Yep, if Ringo didn't like you, there would be no compromise
He's gone on across the Rainbow bridge where all good dogs abide
But he'll be waiting at Heaven's Gate, to fall in at my side
He taught me loyalty & trust, & that love never ends
For sixteen years, through thick & thin, We were the best of friends
Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005
The Real Cowboy
A lined pad of paper and a pencil stub,
Just what Dreamer needs to write her hubub:
"How do I love thee - let me count the ways."
More to the pity WHY do I love thee on any given day.
You pulled your bed apart - you embarrassed the neighbors,
Your slurping at night! Your nighttime bone capers.
You cost a fortune just to get a bath,
Carpets must be cleaned for the unpeople-like odor to pass.
Your food must have meat on top in a certain way
Or you pout and starve until the next day.
You can understand my conversations - know when I’m through,
When I say "I need to go, that's a signal to you."
I need but touch the leash that hangs on the door,
And you jump wildly to walk even in 104.
You can read the computer screen as it fades out of sight,
"I've got her attention now, - and you jump with delight."
You're demanding for dinner - a finicky eater,
But as my furry brown Cowboy, you couldn't be sweeter.
You bark when my car drives into the port,
And love me with hugs when I get through the door.
Protection for me is your instinct and joy,
And strangers relent just hearing your voice!
Tho you've run a few peddlers out who had no harmful intent.
(It was just as well - no money got spent.)
You have me trained and that's a fact,
But without you around I'd be a cranky old slack.
Written about a pet I lost in 2009
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
Sompe people may say they have the best pet, but i don't think so for i have
known a southern angel names Pam. She was a 28 year old quarter-horse
valued at about 500 thousand but to me and my family, she was priceless. She
was auburn with a white star on her head and white stockings. She was a terrefic
horse and friend, not just a family pet. But almost 3 years ago, God decied that
he wanted a prize-winning quarter-horse of his own. He took the best one that i
could think of, for there was no better than her. My uncle who also passed away
about 10 years ago decided that he had one last rodeo left in him and wanted his
favorite gal, Pam. There is no doubt in my mind that she is now a southern
angel, through and through but most of all forever!
Copyright © Alexis Bowen | Year Posted 2008
Her golden hair shines like the sun,
her eyes a deep dark brown.
Her lashes curve so very long,
she wears a pouting frown.
Vanity is her weakness,
in her its way too strong.
She knows she is so beautiful,
and shows it all day long.
She gave me life when I’d given up,
from her I was reborn.
She is the beauty, and love of my life,
without her I am forlorn.
She’s carried me when I could not walk,
gave me strength when I was weak.
Helped me get to where I wanted to be,
of our love I proudly speak.
She’s the kind of girl I dream about,
I’d trust her with my life.
She’s there whenever I need her,
through trouble, good times and strife.
For me she’s been so strong and true,
stayed with me when no one would.
Her name is Sunny, she is my mare,
and she loves me like she should.
copyright Tom Welch
Copyright © Tom Welch | Year Posted 2008
I've learned that there is no obstacle
that i can't jump over,
I've learned to close my mouth and just listen,
I've learned how to be a good friend,
You've shown me that i can love unconditionally,
You teach me something new everyday
and you don't even know it,
we guide each other safely down the right path,
we trust each other,
we make an amazing team,
our hearts beat as one when we're
out there chasing our dream,
You mean so much to me,
you're all ears when i want to talk,
One look into those big beautiful brown eyes
and i always know what you're trying to say
even though you can't talk,
you're my inspiration,
my guardian angel,
my best friend,
The way i see it,
there is no stronger love
than the love between a woman and her horse.
Copyright © Megan Huntington | Year Posted 2008
GOODNIGHT, MRS CALABASH, WHERE-EVER YOU ARE!!
Only us older folks would remember this Jimmy Durante saying he closed his
T.V. show with every week......
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007
Summer time hits
and I feel like s.h.i.t
Can't control this feeling inside of me
I feel out of place
I can't keep up with this race
I'm constantly falling backwards
Why does this always have to be me
I'm just a scared little girl
being force to grow up
I have to face this world
but they've denied me entry
and it seems like everyone else
has made it
everyone knows exactly what to do
and here I sit so out of place
and I don't know what to do
So why do I feel
So useless inside
It's how you made me feel
when my access got denied
I got denied the world
Everyone keeps telling me I have to do something
I can't just sit on my a.s.s
and expect things to happen
But how am I suppose to
I need your help
Why do I feel
Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2007
We were having a chivaree for Bob
And his brand new wife, little Laurie Lee,
When Betsy ran up from the barn and sobbed
That old Queenie was as sick as could be.
Old Queenie was a horse long past her prime
That we now just sort of kept as a pet—
We had quit riding her for quite some time
And her long life was full of no regret.
In her day she was our favorite horse,
Gentle, but spirited on a hard ride—
And it was just as if she knew your course
And moved with your thoughts before you’d decide.
Then there was a time she bucked for a snake—
Then reared up real high and stomped it to death,
As that rattler tried to make me ache
And take away my everlasting breath.
Then there was the time I yanked myself high
To her broad back after I broke my knee—
And I clung to her with a welcome sigh
And rode back to town as quick as could be.
But now old Queenie was dying out there
And slowly I loaded my old gun—
Then walked on down the lane to that barn where
I had to do what no one wanted done.
Old Queenie’s big black eyes looked up at me
As I stood here with rifle pointing down—
But before I moved, her eyes couldn’t see
And she died from old age without a sound.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2005
A long drive down the Central Valley,
cool then warm, the kind of day in March
when the season can go either way,
back to winter or ahead to spring;
a day that draws new grass up
in unplowed fields and hazes the distance
And here we are at last
at our motel, the one that welcomes
“one small pet.” I take our young Shepherd
to the doggy corner,
and for the first time Cowboy lifts his leg,
as old dog Taco used to do
against this very cottonwood.
And then he turns
and watches me with the old dog’s gaze.
The tepid air, no longer winter
and not quite spring, takes me
back to walking other dogs
between hedge and freeway fence.
Dogs now dead look me in the eye
in the guise of this new Cowboy.
And I don’t know where
this can take me
except the lonely gap in the fence
where drifters slip
from southbound lane to shrubbery,
past the long-haul truckers,
out of here by dawn,
and all the other chances
of losing, leaving, and moving on.
Copyright © Taylor Graham | Year Posted 2005