Best Cowboy Westernnight Poems
An ol’ cowboy long ago said:
In this life are few things you need—
Just a gun, a knife, warm blanket,
A good saddle and trusty steed.
Oh, you might want a few dollars,
Some Arbuckle joe and a pot—
But there’s the vast starry ol’ sky—
You’ll not fret ‘bout what you ain’t got.
Your night music is coyotes
And the rustle of things that creep—
Hard leather will be your pillow
As the wind and night bless your sleep.
An ol’ cowboy long ago said:
In this life are few things you need—
Just a gun, a knife, warm blanket,
A good saddle and trusty steed.
He rode in from Texas, calmly chewing a piece of straw.
Folks rumored him a Ranger, some sorta man of Law.
An expressionless face, eyes close 'n stern.
Long barreled pistol, well kept 'n tied down firm.
It was the thirtieth of October, I remember it well.
Sit back 'n relax, I'll narrate the Stranger's tale.
Beer 'n whiskey shots, made the Stranger's tongue loose.
Tugs at his scarf, revealed scars from a noose.
Said he'd come to Denver, to escape the prairie fires.
Recipients of his story, placed him amongst certain liars.
Utterances of bright lights, in a calm night watch dream.
Stampeded cattle, loud voices 'n a haunting scream.
Empty hollow eyes, like death the Stranger was cold.
The annual midnight curse, is what the Ranger told.
Awoke in the saddle, by a Dark Angel of certain death.
Calm night air stirred, vapors rise from cattle's breath.
Focus controlled visions of the chilled dark night.
Squinted images appear from his questioned sight.
At one stroke past midnight, the curse we all had seen.
The Stranger changed to a man of straw, twas now Halloween!
By Jim "Ish" Fellers
Copyright © : August 31st, 2003 ~ Sunday
I've got me a woman, a sweet lovin' woman
So, "Why", do you ask, "am I sayin' goodbye?"
A cowboy like me, has a hankerin' to be free..
Free to be roamin' under sweet prairie skies
every once in awhile,
Even tho' I'll be missin' her lovin' and kissin'
and the sight of her smile.
I saddled my horse, knowing of course
That she wants me to stay....
But I kissed her goodbye, saw the tears in her eyes
as I mounted my pony and trotted away
I knew she'd be grievin', because of my leavin'
But I gotta have space with walls closin' around me
I gotta get riding, where fences ain't binding.
As I ride dusty trails, I'll be hummin' a song
"The Red River Valley", or some others I've known
I'll play my guitar, harmonizing with birds
While the crickets at sundown, know all the words
Then night after night as I lay by my fire
After cooking up bacon, and some biscuits and beans
I'll think of my life, and my home and my woman
About my 'lil' darlin', and 'bout what love really means
I'll remember the good times, forgetting the bad times
I won't sleep 'cause the moonlight shines in my face
With coyotes a howlin', and the rocks in my bed roll
I'm tossin' and turnin', and for my woman I'm yearnin'
When I'm done with my roamin', ...well, then I'll be home bound
Back to my sweetheart, where you know I should be
I'll saddle my horse....knowing of course....
That I'll tell my sweet woman, I'll hang around this time....
Until that old fever gets me, and I'm scratchin' and itchin'
Then I'll catch up my pony, throw on my old bed roll
I'll head for the mountains, smell sage on the prairie
And I'll gallop through the valley of the thick chaparral
_________________________________________
Black rain, enclosed with pain and nothing
left to gain.
Dark clouds disguise the sun, under the
moon stands a guy with a gun.
His mental state is altered, his voice
on display, a cowboy out to play.
He strains to find the words to
speak.
In the end he will pretend
His hospitality overrated, he has a
helping hand to lend.
He points and aims, squeezes the trigger
At this shady character, that passing
figure.
The soldier of the damp and cold
night
His eye's blinded by the flash of
a neon light.
The crowd frozen with disbelief,
citizens and self proclaimed soldiers
of peace, the Indians too.
The night has just begun, the moon silently
creeping through the oddly shaped clouds.
The drumming of ancient tribes pierce
the night with they're thunderous sound.
Dancing under the moon on the cold
wet ground.
Cowboys out west, Indians out
east.
Times of violent outbreaks followed by
times of peace.