Best Lariat 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:
lariat, adventure, cowboy-western, lost love,
Form:
Ballad
we bury the past like but not with dread
wounded hearts triaged and on the mend
we bandage the cuts, scratches and mars
slowly they heal with just a faint scar
we pick it all up from yesterday
start again fresh, another clean slate
what we put in is what we get back
tenacity a virtue that you never lacked
you see the lightning, hear the thunder
a red-flag warning that causes some to shudder
an Irish tempest with eyes that flash
you may have finally met your match
you can't say that it is ever boring
you lassoed a tornado with your lariat
like Pecos Bill you ride though it bucks
going till the buzzer with any luck
you hold on tight, with one arm in the air
spurring me on with your special flair
ride on Pecos, hold on tight
this could be the ride of your life
Categories:
lariat, imagination, introspection
Form:
Couplet
Our snowmen, they're not made of white.
They're tumbleweeds, rolled up tight.
No top hat upon his head,
a cowboy hat sits there instead.
His face and buttons, tree ornaments,
boots and lariat, his accoutrements.
Saguaro cacti with lights wrapped 'round,
illuminate the landscaped grounds.
Old horse drawn wagons get a festive touch,
with lighted garland, packages and such.
Porch rails glow with colored lights,
Christmas trees in windows, warm the nights.
Our little town gets all decked out,
then we gather along the parade route.
Folks on horseback with ribbons and bells,
the horses know that old route well.
Marching school band play Christmas songs,
trucks and tractors carry carolers along.
Floats abound from businesses and groups,
braving the cold, the Christmas cowboys troop.
We all stand up to clap and cheer,
as Santa, as usual, brings up the rear.
Waving his red cowboy hat, in a horse drawn sleigh,
Welcoming Christmas, The Wickenburg way.
Categories:
lariat, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
Anancy men, weaving silk palace out of spit
Breeze blows it far
Like lassso, or lariat casting Minotaur
Or Midas
Or pilgrims legacy stolen here
I could not believe it
Unless I had known the gullability of flies
And the charm of sweetened bee spit.
Shall the spider's rope
Bring back Valesquez gold
Plundered from our shores?
Not that then disgruntles me
Not the avarice, nor greed's stupidity
I protest more the sinister side of it.
For what the cars washed with beers
The hands washed in champagne
How many blood stain does that clean?
For what the cargo chains of gold
The ponderous grotesque of rings
The masonry of lies
How many spells of degeneracy broken?
What legacy do you build for tomorrow
For pride volatile like acid,
Vaporous as morning dew,
Requires more substance of us -
Something that will for history be a leg.
Mother say only what is in character shows
When the heart breaks in bell tones tolling,
The rich rivers that through it flows
The laden mass of wealth in silt
Only gold is free of deeper grime and crusted guilt.
O ambiguous reason
Half greed and half fear
Your forgiveness walks in treason
Let old history dry up like a tear
Not yesterday again, but of today beware
Tomorrow is for vision a little season.
How do I redeem them again
These Pilates
Indelible saturated with the toxic stain?
Categories:
lariat, history, history,
Form:
Free verse
Bags all packed and ready to go?
I wish that were the case.
Tossed some clean clothes in the trunk,
With some things I can’t replace.
Won’t take time to be ready to go.
I don’t wanna see her face.
Leaving behind lots of junk;
Getting out of her space.
There’s some good stuff that you should find
At Saturday’s yard sale.
Cowboy boots, mechanics’ tools--
Nothing fancy or upscale.
You can have the gal I left behind.
You’ll get her better than wholesale.
Watch out, she plays dirty pool,
And puts her men through Hell.
Things with my gal were getting cold.
It’s time for some upgrades.
Nothing there was working right--
Need a new gal ready-made.
I want a gal that’s better than gold,
Without charades or masquerades.
Saint by day, sinner by night,
That’s easy to persuade.
(chorus)
I’ll miss my worn-in cowboy hat
And slightly worn-out clothes.
I’ll miss my rig and lariat
With the yellow Texas rose.
Counting all the things that I gave up,
You could naturally infer—
Though I’ll miss a lot of my old stuff,
I definitely won’t miss her.
Yes, I’ll miss a lot of my old stuff,
But certainly not her.
Categories:
lariat, leaving, song,
Form:
Lyric
Fold your tent now
Cowboy, the prairie sunset has come
Pull the hat low
Over the silent brow, let the horse go home
Without saddle,
It's round up time for you, the trail is done.
Bit and bridle;
O let it go free, and feel the weightless
World runs with it,
Put the branding iron down, blow out the sun;
The mind's habit
Shutting out the endless tedium and stress
Now can reclaim
The dignity that future-centered men
Denied; the fame
Past-centered men recalled and softly blend
With their own hopes;
And none but the dead ever realized.
Roll up the ropes
The cowboy no more rides, or seek the prize.
Rustlers die fast
Cowboys live long, lariat looping ferile glory;
Rodeo past,
The poled hat and belt tell all the final story.
Categories:
lariat, death, tribute, boy,
Form:
Verse
Ah, luminous white she blooms a deceptive ghost
lover of dark arts ripe in charisma and night
moon seducer logic diffuser defense reducer
user of dreams abuser of romance
tempter-serpent twines and vines
a tendril's slither noiseless
vanilla viper— she’s a fever teaser
damn well make you a heartbreak believer
celestial and terrestrial she’s a territorial force
spider-vein-lightning crackles across neuronal nebulae
behind your glister eyes firework-fantasies flicker
desire— a brush fire— engulfs your cerebral star fields
razing you to burn red marrow to ash...
oh you long— you long to be the phoenix on her pyre
writhing and rising again and again
you yearn to pluck her play her possess her
place her in a solitary bud vase
share your lust of ardor with hungry admiration
resist the thirst of your hands to touch
resist the airy lariat of her buttercream-spice
resist the thirst of your taste buds to baste in her taste
as honey-whines drip from her summer-wine lips
poised in parted pout to poison you
physical and ethereal she wears an imperial crown
she steals your stars and flaunts them in her eyes
dare her when she unfurls— a swan against black satin
she’ll wrestle your heart from your chest
burst it with pin-prick-pupils of scorn
save it in her cat’s paw purse for her verse—
before she mousetraps your bleats and mercy pleas
within the mantrap of her parasol pleats
leaving you alone to skin your soul
to mend the hole where your old self ends
and your new self melts into moans you now own
Categories:
lariat, angst, beauty, dark, desire,
Form:
Free verse
He was a cowboy problem child
rescued by a mendicant sage brush sorcerer
resulting in his remembering everything
flawlessly insolently permanantly
birth death life things in space have a beer
owner of his own head at last
thanks to whiskey tainted improvisations
and the use of springs and levers
in order to bring the Almighty down to earth
for a patch job on his many severed limbs
he slept on a bed of maguey spines
combed his tumbleweed hair over the burn spots
and tattooed his many and fecund scars into
the outlines of zippers and pockets
Tex Lester was a lariat twirling minstrel
and undefeated Popsicle stick swordsman
subject to a chronic howling for pootang
Tex took me under his leathery wings
together we praised the pop up toaster
and often spoke of mechanics and luck
taught me to look at girls all anew
in the little red school house by the cactus patch
Miss LobowskI beat off my attempts
at humping her leg during her class in ethics
as if a description of total damnation
could repair the broken mosaic of attention
Tex would implore with the tact of a scorpion
madam cover your eyes in the name of decency
what could I do but wake the dead
and digress distressingly in the dirt
a heartfelt rain making non-sequitir
well kids are full of surprises
uninhibited by mystery or murderous rage
complete they are in a different way
but the more Miss Lobowski's convex mariachis
bucked and danced under her wet serape
the more it popped into Tex's ten gallon head
to teach her an old cowboy rope trick
round and round went his cowboy lariat
the desire to repeat pleasure unfortunately
is the desire to repeat it exactly endlessly
and that's the problem the big problem
at the museum of horrible deaths
you grab their ears and whisper
rest your head on a cloud angel
and hope they don't end up on top
of a truckload of flattened automobiles
he went crazy on her flesh
let loose his gila monster on her blazing ****
and together they began robbing banks
this is going to cost me my diploma
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
lariat, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
"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:
lariat, heartbreak, heartbroken, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
There's a quaint little cross roads town that nestles in the shadow,
Of majestic Pikes Peak called Punkin Center in eastern Colorado.
The prime business in town is the Punkin Center Tack and Feed Store,
Where farmers and ranchers congregate to shoot the bull and more!
There you'll find fellers in bib overalls and John Deere tractor caps,
Cowboy hats, scruffy boots, faded jeans and greasy leather chaps.
Some spit streams of terbaccy juice - others enjoy roll-yer-own smokes,
And the air is rant with guffaws as they ply each other with bawdy jokes!
There are Ford 150, Dodge Ram and Chevy Silverado pickups galore,
Waitin' for their owners to load up on this and that from the store.
But they ain't in no hurry - besides it looks like a norther is on the way.
The Punkin Center Tack and Feed Store is a great place to idle time away!
Clyde Purpleears, the owner, stocks plentiful supplies for those in need:
Fertilizer, saddles, bales of hay, manure forks, hog and chicken feed,
Baler twine, hip boots for muckin' out the barn as well as various seeds,
Milk buckets, lariat rope, gloves, shotgun shells and stuff for killin' weeds!
Clyde displays the latest in coyote traps, steel posts and barbed wires,
Nose rings for randy bulls, post hole diggers and John Deere tractor tires!
As the shadow of Pikes Peak creeps over Punkin Center 'bout half past four,
Clyde shoos the loafers out of the Tack and Feed store and closes the door!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lariat, cowboy-western, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Cowboy Howdy the Clown still goes
To town with ten little shoes on his toes
Purple hair and a square blue nose
Ten grey flowers for Cimarron Rose
An itty bitty teeny weeny cowboy hat
Vaquero chaps and a little dogies tat
A plug of chaw and a lariat
Two six-shooters and a shoulder rat
He sure looks silly; he sure looks strange
And he's looking for his home on the range.
Categories:
lariat, animal, home, humorous, nursery
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Surely God is good,
Surely to Israel,
Surely God is good to Israel,
Surely God to pure hearts,
(please don’t call me Surely)
Soitenly God-Blessed are the dear-heart folks?
Who shall have attended God?
But
As for me
I slipped, I stumbled, I hit the ground running to heavens to Betsy to pieces
See!
Laugh!
Sinners are much more
Unchained!
Untied to the wheel-death
Love-death has them unlocked up in chains.
Lo chains
Lo kemia-metas
Lo scissom
Lo mela
Lo mayonc
Lo kolojimalta
Lo maya
Lo mahlimn
Lo emf
Lo ma
Where are their boils?
Their scabs?
Their bedsores?
Their scars?
Their bites?
Their necks’s burnt-red-rope burns?
Their chains?
Where are their knock-kneed pigeon-toed lame-brain lariat at?
What are they seeing with their fat-swallowed eyes?
What are they feeling, clothed with outward-pointing fingers,
Torn off beggars’s hands?
They break, they berate, they belittle, they bully, they beat, they badger, they kick us when we’re down, they go tell it from the cell towers and satellites, through vines of shielded cables carpeting the ocean floors, in the now-in-mega-size, radio-wave singing bowls, in the bitty ears of moles and pigeons and apples.
They twirl twin cigars lifted through the heavens, inevitable fallout, ashes to ashes of homes of gentle people, and they cough smoke over the face of earth.
Impressive.
Are you not impressed?
But
As for me
I thank them for their time.
Categories:
lariat, corruption, god, grief,
Form:
Free verse
A Cowboy, Neath A Rainbow
Rode The Range, Far and Free
Holding Lightning Reins, and A Lasso
Strung Around His Untamed Dreams
Riding On His Horse, named Bullseye-Shoot
A Big, Bay Thoroughbred
Galloped Long, Nudged by The Cowboy’s Boots
To Race, As Dark Clouds Fled …
… Away, As Each Hoof Struck The Ground
Sounding, Just Like Thunder !
The Cowboy and Horse, Were Rainbow-Bound
Both, A Romantic, Climatic-Color Wonder !
Flashing Across The Range
On A Silver Saddle and Same Kind of Spurs
The Cowboy’s Hat and Horse’s Tail and Mane
And Sunset … All Became A Rainbow-Blur …
As The Cowboy, Lassoed The Wind
So Fast, They Did Go !
So Fast, His Lariat Did Spin …
I Think He Caught His Rainbow…
… A Cowboy Neath A Rainbow
Rode The Range, Far and Free
Holding Lightning Reins and A Lasso
Strung Around His Untamed Dreams …
For: John Moses Freeman,
You Are Of The Gallant, Galloping Breed
From: Country-Gal, Poet-Pal
MoonBee
Categories:
lariat, adventure, allegory, cowboy-western, happiness,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
On the dry Prairie and then Mississippi Valley, yahoo buckaroo;
I come out eating choking dust daily, yahoo;
While on the long open range;
This cattle drive I parade;
Moo-be then dar doggies;
Through open Plains and Gulfs in Valley range;
Yippee ki-yay, Yahoo buckaroo doggies;
Got a rope and a horse, hey flowing mange!
Also got a sixth barrel caliber Bang Bang git them bandits;
I ain't going to be in shooting unless it's in self-defense;
Because this keeps me saved me from them Outlaws those dirty varmints;
That corn whiskey on my breath;
I'm a self-proclaimed cowboy;
I'm not afraid of this life or death;
And one day I'm going to be a big-time Lariat Oh, boy;
Screaming yippee ki-yay Yahoo buckaroo wooh!
From the range to the rodeo this is where I'm going to go;
I am a cowboy
1/19/21
Cowboy Poetry Poetry Contest
Rhyme poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Categories:
lariat, adventure, appreciation, confidence, integrity,
Form:
Rhyme
For thirty years long I fled my fears
Until I was wax soft and white like moon
The fugitive only his own voice hears
His lips trembling swell the empty spoon
Shattering dusty teeth. O the exile
Has returned, now he is out of style.
I brought back no Oshawi gold
No meteorite tail in alphabet soup
Trailing my name, defining soul
As a horse broken with lariat and loop
And climbed the guango tree first
Trying to remember where I put my thirst.
Long love ago, long dream broken
Mother died and the distance in silence
Was truth in pain so plainly spoken
For only birth and death has no pretence
I love my country and it does not care
The eyes of clouds follow me and stare.
Categories:
lariat, travel, love,
Form:
Verse