Best Bedroll Poems
I didn't want to break your heart,
I had no thought of that at all,
When I told you I'd be leaving
Right after roundup time this fall.
A cowboy's life is lonely,
With saddle, bridle and his horse,
A bedroll just to keep from freezing
When he's wandering off his course.
Your own daddy is a rancher.
He should have warned you from the start,
Should have cautioned you to never
Let a cowboy win your heart.
I'll be heading to the south lands
Until some wrangling work I find,
Didn't mean to fool you, Honey.
I didn't mean to be unkind.
If I had a stack of money,
I'd settle down, make you my wife.
Until I'm through meandering
I can't ask you to share my life.
Dry your eyes my little lady
And let me see that pretty smile.
There will be another cowboy
Who will outshine me by a mile.
If you find one with a bankroll
Who can afford a little spread,
Get your lariat and rope him,
Forget about these tears you've shed.
I'll be thinking of you, Honey
As I travel across the range,
But this cowboy is a rambler
And I expect I'll never change.
Placed 2nd in Ballad contest
Categories:
bedroll, adventure, cowboy-western, lost love,
Form:
Ballad
When the campfire’s out and you try to sleep,
But things don’t seem just right—
You toss and turn on that ol’ hard bedroll
And see faces in the night.
It just may be dreams or a sense of guilt
That now keeps you wide awake—
It may be bad stew or a wrong you did--
A friend you had to forsake.
You shut your eyes tight and let darkness come—
Pray those faces don’t appear—
But they always come and silently speak
To your conscience and your fear.
You see father’s face like it was those days
And wish you’d both had more time—
To ease all the things that then stood between
Before he died in his prime.
And then there’s the face of your bother Tom,
Who worshipped you like a God—
Till he had fever and you laughed if off—
Then buried him in the sod.
But night always brings another dim face
Of the girl that you loved first—
Before she went and married someone else,
And how your heart about burst..
So when the dawn comes to strike you awake,
And with tired relief you rise—
You still see those faces in sun’s red glare
And know part of you yet dies.
Too soon again bright campfires now burn low,
As the sunset still brings fright—
For you know that sleep is not a good friend
And brings faces in the night.
Categories:
bedroll, confusion, cowboy-western, death, imagination,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Ah done cum frum tha ol' times
Whar we's jist roams free
I's gots a gun, a hoss un grub
'Un bedroll 'neath a tree.
Sum times ah jist works fer grub
An theys the tother times
Ah's jist watches tha stars 'bove
An sleeps un tha moons light.
Don't likes ridin' un tha rain
When lighten flies 'bouts
T'ain't safe ta be's board youse hoss
If'n youse tha tallest thin 'round.
Seed sum thin tother day
Done made me's feels so small
War a cowboy on 'is knees
An 'is hoss with head bowed low.
Tha cowboy held hat un han
Un front a wood cross
He war prayin ta tha Lord 'bove
Fer all tha pards we's loss.
Theys air up thar, that I's knows
Bacause las night I's seed
Ma frien Charlie ridin herd
Next ta ma pa, Reed.
One days I's 'll be up thar
An sum one down balow
Will looks an watches tha stars shine
Un sleeps 'neath tha moons glow.
Cile Beer
Categories:
bedroll, cowboy-western, imagination, life, stars,
Form:
Verse
When night came, the cattle bedded down
And the night riders making their rounds
Samuel would take a strole to the chuck wagon
And Cookie would hand him his cup of coffee
As he savored it's taste
He'd check with Cookie to see
If his supplies were holding out
Then find ol' Jack crawl aboard and make another round
The nights of stary bliss
Or winds a blowin strong
The drovers were right there
To keep things from going wrong
The rivers they did cross,
Sometimes took their tole
Little Zeke was lucky to be on hand
He threw Luke a lasso and drug him to dry land
Some cattle were lost
Due to the heat
Some they had to nurse maid
If they got snake bit
The prairie dog towns were dangerous grounds
For horses, cattle or cowboys
Their holes were the cause of many a fall
With broken legs you can't ride a saddle
Nights in the bedroll
Days in the saddle
Day after day
They trailed the cattle
Categories:
bedroll, adventurenight, night, drug,
Form:
Verse
I’ve ridden many a trail in my life & regrets I have few
For I lived the life I chose & to the Cowboy way stayed true
I will not ask for a mansion when I stand before God’s throne
I’ll be happy with a bedroll, a good herd & a sturdy roan
A cowboy’s dream is what I lived for so many happy years
I had my spread & family, made a good living from the calves & steers
So do not cry when you think of me, for I would rather see you smile
Rest easy in the knowing that because of you, my life was not a trial
Do not stand around & speak in hushed & hallowed tones
For there is nothing in this casket, except for husk & bones
My Spirit saddled up & hit the trail, heeding the Master’s call
And though I ride for him now, I’ll miss you one & all
In the creak of saddle leather & the jinglebobs you hear
I hope you think of me & know that I am ever near
I ride a range that knows no end, no stampede or rain
And I’ll keep one saddled for you until we meet again
Categories:
bedroll, cowboy-western, death, introspection, loss,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
THE RIDE
I got a horse named Sam, a dog named Joe,
and my old Chevy truck.
In the front of my trailer is my saddle and bridle
with a horseshoe thrown in for luck.
Got my bedroll and boots, one change of clothes,
just enough money for gas.
I’m on my way to the next rodeo,
so Darlin’, I think I’ll pass
Your kind invitation to hang around here,
and take up a new line of work
That wouldn’t involve breakin’ my bones.
To refuse makes me sound like a jerk.
But listen a moment to what’s in my heart,
and maybe you’ll understand
Why I keep on ridin’ them wild buckin’ broncs
while lookin’ for a soft place to land.
When I was eighteen I thought about gettin’ a job
and workin’ from nine to five.
But I couldn’t find anything I could do
that would keep me feelin’ alive.
Now it’s twenty years later and I ain’t got much
to show for the years in between.
But it don’t matter when I get to the gate,
‘cause it starts all over again.
I hear the roar of the rodeo crowd.
I smell the dust risin’ high in a cloud.
And there’s a thrill that starts to tickle my veins
when I hear them start to call out the names.
I know that soon I’m gonna be out there.
Win or lose, I’m not gonna care,
‘cause all I wanna do is make The Ride.
It’s all about The Ride.
Categories:
bedroll, life,
Form:
Verse
He must sit back and just smile at sunsets;
The colors and quiet must give him great joy—
As do the sweet sage and morning violets;
God must be a cowboy.
He breathes life in the wind on the prairie
And sustains the green earth with the soft rain;
And he grows all the fish in the vast sea;
It is an unbroken chain.
Oh, you can hear him creak that old saddle
As he rounds up the skies and the whole earth range;
His eyes are on us and he’s not idle.
The only constant is change.
Yes, He rides beside us in gold grasses
And He watches our bedroll every night;
He helps us over all the high passes
And teaches us to do right.
And meekly we speak of Him by His name
As we take great pains to please and not annoy;
Knowing when we ride off back where we came:
God must be a cowboy.
Categories:
bedroll, cowboy-western, faith, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
You could see the lone figure in the pale, fading light,
Bedding down the doggies for a restful night.
He had been in the saddle since early morn',
Now feeling the aches of the drive that made him feel "worn".
The three other horses he had taken from the remuda that day,
Were now being tied and fed, as they whinnied and neighed.
"Woh, cattle...Woh, cattle", he sang softly to the steers,
Another six weeks on the trail and he would be filling his night with beers.
When the herd was quiet, the first 'Nighthawks' came,
He sighed with relief, as he tugged on the reins.
In just a few minutes he was putting his saddle and bedroll aright,
the grub made...biscuits, beans, and salt pork for tonight.
Then he unbuckled his gunbelt and laid down in his place,
Knowing full well, he'd be up before dawn to relieve the man on the trace.
It was hard work but he loved it, or so he said,
More of the Chisolm waited for them up ahead.
Yet it was the cows, the horses, the danger, and freedom he dared,
And those few other comrades whose journey he shared.
Yes, it was this "Cowboy Life" full of its highs and lows,
It was all that he needed, and was the life he chose.
Categories:
bedroll, adventure, environment, image, nostalgia,
Form:
Couplet
"I didn't want to break your heart.
I had no thought of that at all,
When I told you I'd be leaving
Right after roundup time this fall.
A cowboy's life is lonely,
A saddle, bridle and a horse,
Bedroll, just to keep from freezing,
When he wanders off his course.
If I had a stack of money,
I'd settle down, make you my wife.
Until I'm through meandering,
I can't ask you to share my life.
Dry your eyes my little lady
And let me see that pretty smile.
There will be other cowboys
Who will outshine me by a mile.
If you find one with a bankroll,
Who can afford a little spread,
Get your lariat and rope him.
Forget about these tears you've shed.
I'll be thinking of you, Honey
As I travel 'cross the range.
But this cowboy is a rambler,
I expect he'll never change.
Categories:
bedroll, heartbreak, heartbroken, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
(2nd part continued)
Then late one night before coosie did howl,
I woke up and took me a walk by chance,
Down by the sleepin’ cow herd and ol’ Rowel
When I heard his soft song and watched his dance.
He was just waltzin’ alone off his mount,
Like some ballroom dancer that was plum mad—
Kept twirlin’ around more than I could count—
It was all sort of comical yet sad.
I crept away thinkin’ then I’d done wrong
And climbed back in my bedroll on the range—
But I could still hear that night hawker’s song
And in my mind that lonely dance seemed strange.
Summers last forever for a young buck,
Yet somehow for me this one seemed too short—
But I knew my fate had changed with my luck
And that old chaff blew away in the sort.
Then one day Rowel packed gear in a hurry—
And I knew I’d heard his last herder’s song—
Said he was headin’ home to Missouri—
That he’d been at the ol’ dance much too long.
Then Rowel said something I still remember
About livin’ out your life as you age:
He said savor sunsets in September,
Because life’s a short sashay on the sage.
So now night herds are silently sleepin’—
And for years I’ve been here where I belong—
The night herder’s song is in my keepin’
And I sing it as I dance to the song.
Categories:
bedroll, cowboy-western, introspection, life, philosophy,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
My lids, pierced by splinters of light;
I rub my eyes as I awake.
And though my bedroll kept me warm,
I am hungry, and my bones ache.
Belongings few; I fear their loss,
for they're all that keep me alive.
Yet, they don't get lighter with age;
I may not thrive, but I survive.
A pair of doves serenade the sun,
dispelling the shadows of night.
And I start my day panhandling;
while trying to keep out of sight.
Suddenly, I hear a loud laugh;
with a jeering edge to its pitch.
And some teenagers come running;
being homeless makes me their bi*ch.
As a barrage of fists let loose,
pain radiates with each impact.
My nose is broken and bleeding,
but most of me is still intact.
Wrong place to be; when hate erupts,
for the anger of youth runs deep.
And although time will help me heal,
I have no more tears left to weep.
Categories:
bedroll, abuse, angst, emotions, hurt,
Form:
Quatrain
.
She laid poised
'pon mine bedroll
Eyne beaming
lips
displaying
with sweet wide smile
hern pearls
My kneez were buckling
whilst mine eyne slithered
her twisted torso
‘Exposing with relish she wuz
hern hale haunch
Cocksure’
What lover uv write
Would ignore
This share
Uv i
“mine two digits
tap tap
tapping
‘pon this machine
Whilst mine other
duke’s two digits
pulled
Haltingly with excite
her
bikini bottom’s bowed
string”
*Cocksure: overly confident
Hale: sound; free from defect
Categories:
bedroll, beautiful, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
As the sun starts to rise,
This cowboy opens his eyes,
Dew trapped in the mornin' frost.
I thank God for my freedom,
All the times I need 'im,
I tend to forget the cost.
I ride o'er this prairie,
Durin' this season to be merry,
Ponderin' the year that has past.
Often times were good,
More than there should,
Occasionally my luck didn't last.
Now it's deep in December,
Ah, the prairie 'n its splendor,
A hawk as it circles the sky.
A cowboy could get soft,
On new hay in a loft,
'N a roof to keep his bedroll dry.
My leg draped o'er the tree,
The horn in the bend of my knee,
I look out across these vast plains.
I heave a big sigh,
Swipe a tear from my eye,
Sat up 'n take hold the reins.
We've been drivin' this herd,
For a week 'n a third,
I figure one week more.
If the weather holds out,
We'll make it no doubt,
But nature could even the score.
Tomorrow they say,
Will be Christmas Day,
I thank God for the Miracle Birth.
Jesus 'as sent here to save us,
That's the gift God gave us,
Certainly more than this cowboy's worth.
By Jim "Ish" Fellers
Copyright ©: December 11, 2003 ~ Thursday
Categories:
bedroll, cowboy-westerngod, god,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Winter winds rattle window panes;
yet no one there ever complains.
And shadows on candlelit walls
flicker as the flame flares and falls.
A blanket with a stitched-up hole;
substitutes for a warm bedroll.
And while it supplies meager heat,
a kerosene heater's a treat.
Money is as scarce as kind words
for two impoverished lovebirds.
And though the hope stored in their hearts
may dwindle, it never departs.
Poverty threatens every breath,
in this saga of life and death.
Hugs that help them escape their pain
are all that is keeping them sane.
Social Security's a joke;
hung around their necks like a yoke.
These folks are hard-pressed to exist;
and yet, no one wants to assist.
Their needs are small, but death lurks near,
living in the shadow of fear.
Yet, their love is what gets them through;
thanking God for each day anew.
When we let the wealthy decide,
those without funds get swept aside.
But the rich vow to fix this wrong;
let us pray that we live that long.
Categories:
bedroll, angst, anxiety, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Quatrain
From what I have seen
America is a well-oiled machine
Our military always ready to fight
Together with so much might
Leaving their homes night after night
Saying goodbye believing it's not your last sight
Living in a hole with rations and a bedroll
Or on a battleship ready to rip as they skip
To the next flip
In the air, so they can take care of our guys
As they buzz the sky blowing their targets up From way up high
Trained to shoot
Giving our enemies the boot
Standing proudly always ready to salute
The best at bagging America's enemies
So we might know this land of the free
Home to you and me
Our sons and daughters they stand and fight
For our constitutional right
They constantly keep sight wearing their dog tags
Ready to go to their grave in any conflict wave
They pave the way so the rest of us
Have a world that's not ready to bust
Never look at what they do with disgust
Trust our generals do it because they must
The people of the world need to stand strong
So today's leaders will have to get along
Keeping balance in the kingdom of God
Like a lightning rod ,all take their oath with a nod
Live or die you will never hear them asking why
Americas bravest they fought the wars
So we might know this land of the free
This land God blessed for you and me
Let us all see our military is why we live free
Be sure and pray that they all find their way
Unfortunately, some are left as reminders
Of the price we had to pay for their valor
Until their last day
Be sure you stand up and say
Thank you for your service today
For the sacrifices you have made along the way
So we might know this land God blessed
For you and me
So we can live free
Because our brothers and sisters
Gave up so much for you and me
They are still the gatekeepers
That holds the key
To why this land is still free
Like God intended it to be
Categories:
bedroll, military,
Form:
Narrative