Best Lasso Poems
My voice is weak, my hand falters
as I attempt to speak of my Father.
Each night sleep takes me,
then truth awakes me –
my Dad is gone, now dead.
My heart hears this from my head.
Wrapped in numbness, walking in nothingness,
I search for his presence.
The chain’s now broken, its brightest link gone.
My Dad was security and so mentally strong.
His mind quick, his wit sharp,
he always inspired my young heart.
Pleasing my Father was to lasso the sun.
In him my pride was first begun.
I picture his hands, legs and arms –
my protector from harm;
wisdom was his voice,
comforting his every choice,
willpower his motto, sureness his step.
He was a man of incredible depth.
Knowing I am my Father’s daughter
is a thought to be tenderly kept.
His final, “I love you” words,
the most emotion I’ve heard yet.
I will miss you, Daddy.
Now and forever, naught will I forget.
I’ll see you each sunrise,
mourn you each sunset.
Images crash around me,
I’d have it no other way
Than your memory with
me each and every day.
Categories:
lasso, appreciation, dad, father, love,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric
She sits perched, like a gorgeous gargoyle, upon the boulder
splotched with spots of mint chocolate ice cream moss - the wind tasting
her lovely locks as if it were spicy cinnamon straight off the tree.
It excites the senses (to put it frankly) watching her gaze
pierce the sapphire roof of the world
with a challenge to be met.
Or was it the twinkle in her smile
that shone like polished ivory, reminding me of the legalities
of elephantine tusks, and the slippery slope of falling
for that gracious grin and hallowed hope.
It could just be, she's got a lasso on my heart,
that takes delight in my vertigo - flipping and flopping
much like an oval shaped wheel.
I'd ask her to grease the hinges, or go back to the drawing board,
but to tell the truth - it adds character to the path
digging dangerously into the dirt dutifully
causing a spray of pebbles to the face of normalcy.
It could just be, that letting go ain't in her vocabulary,
reeling me in like a big fish story in one of those backwater
little ponds, that spawn such discrepancy.
I'd say she's a catch, but that would be cheesy
(though that does bring to mind her chef-like tendencies,
plopping strawberries on my tongue with little tidbits
of Wisconsin sharp cheddar)
It could just be, that life according to Miss Ooh-La-La
couldn't get any better ...
... then again it could just be
I'm waxing eloquently.
Categories:
lasso, beauty, fantasy, feelings, funny
Form:
Romanticism
Once, a strange structure appeared in a barn yard
difficult not to notice, a scaffold to hang horses
for throwing their masters
Dumb and never protesting they were led up the ramp
built like a stairway to heaven
With never any last minute salvation
No 'Pegasus' wings that sprouted from the withers.
Hooves crossed on the chest each was duly blest
and I wonder if each mistook the noose
for a lasso around its neck.
With one somb're bell a'ringing the hangman pulled the lever
'There are no last minute requests for horses being executed'
Justice done again?
Yet it seems in the equine world
hanging has served as no deterrant.
Inherant in all horses is an urge to
throw their masters.
Give Me Your Best James Tate
Contest Judged: 12/1/2016 12:00:00 AM
Sponsored by: Space Cadet
6th Place
100 in a ROW contest -- 8
Contest Judged: 7/30/2016 8:24:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
6th Place
Categories:
lasso, analogy, cute, death, horse,
Form:
Free verse
"To The Moon And Back"
Once, in a blue moon, true love comes along
Surpassing all limits...growing so strong...
That each beating heart breathes in, the same song.
I found such a love...the night I met you...
The stars whispered to me, "This love is true!
For you, there is nothing, he would not do."
Each time I asked you to lasso the moon
And take us both there, to sit, while we spoon
Within its crest...in a place you had hewn
Aloft on a cloud...that rope made whack.
We said, "I love you to the moon and back!"
With our hands entwined...this love would not slack.
We loved with our heart and soul...and we knew
Love's Eternal...even when gone from view...
Gazing at the moon, I see...me and you.
3.2.2017©deborah burch
Note:
Final verse not entered d/t confines of length:)
Precious moments...are these. I hold them dear
Looking not for stars...when the moon's so near
Your reflection sparkles in every tear.
Categories:
lasso, allegory, love, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
WHEN TEARS TOUCH
The twelfth of November reminds me of the day
when our paths first crossed then came to grow on trail.
Soon... all the days like waves rolled into years
as we reminisce our pasts: joys and tears for fears.
A pad with pen I hold to write what pops by;
Each tint and curve a bell that says, you and I.
The words are mere push and pull medley of thoughts
shaping a circle melody of heart shots.
Learning flower our way as our cultures shared;
gem writings topically crafted are compared.
Feelings flood colours to our world, closer we became--
Creeping longing is "our meeting" as this both our aim
Beep and peek are lace ladders to higher trust grounds,
every tap and trade a thread fortifying our bond.
The lasso tying our heartstrings to etch some rhymes,
vital signs checked normal but awhile raise second hands
Can it be that this a fruit of stardust's grand wand?
Or a rose waiting to bloom and behold upon bosoms?
Now the day has arrived, suitcases packed, I smile
a journey, I have dreamt about, many many miles.
Nervousness cocoons but it's normal to feel this;
for this my long wish as I enter the coming hours.
Distance and differences our silent enemies!
But... It did not stop us from thinking sound strategies.
Interest and love gleams as our loyal company
enabling us to draw verses of harmony.
Broken bridges we cross by grace of felicity~
yearning to meet eye-to-eye an intensity!
Along the wires we jibe to friendly deal
that as crisp December sings we will make it real.
The cool December made our wanting a tip-top exhilarate..
and from somewhere, a song plays:
"When you feel in your skin in your bones and the hollow
Of your heart, there's no way you can wait till tomorrow.
When there isn't any doubt about it once you come this close
Cos you know and you know that you know...."
_____________________________________________________________
*** the last stanza are lines taken from the song: "WHEN YOU KNOW" by Shawn Colvin from the movie Serendipity.
©J.A. Fraser and O.E. Guillermo
October 29, 2014; 10:05 pm
Categories:
lasso, feelings, friendship, life, love,
Form:
Rhyme
L ittle voices, rising in volume and pitch
I mploring teacher, begs all available aids to help pop
C oats, hats, muffs, mitts, sweaters, gloves, socks, shoes, and boots on 39
K indergarten urchins who are galloping around the room, or jumping on ball
chairs.
E veryone is excited; the snow is falling and
T he five-year-olds woke up screaming with excitement,
Y elling their head dendrites off, dancing and galloping
S ix ways to Sunday, and it’s only Tuesday,
P rincipal skates into the room, “Lickety Split!” she yells.
“L et’s all help, and get them out there quick!” The 2nd grade teacher sticks in
her head to hollar,
“I ce will be here within the hour. Everybody help.” A bunch of 4th and 5th
graders run in to help dress
t hem. Seconds later, the worn-out Kindergarten
Teacher throws out a magic lasso, and 39 kindergarteners all grab hold. The next minute, they
land in a big snow drift.
“Lickety, lickety, yickety, bickety, pickety, split!” they all yell, running away in every conceivable direction.
Written 4-9-2018 Contest: What I Like Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Categories:
lasso, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Acrostic
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
Categories:
lasso, america, appreciation, celebration, fun,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
(enjoy the puns)
I happen to be a busy bee
always racing with time
since time how it flies for busy bees
Ah wish I could just lasso it
like a cowboy does his horse
and thereby bring it to a standstill!
And if I don't waste this valuable Time
I think I could buy me some extra time
For time is money it's said
Ah wish I could just catch it
in a nook or a noose
as it flies by at will.
For at this rate the clock is ticking by
like some never exploding time-bomb
while I'm forever running out of time
so I wonder then how still
others just take their time
or be killing time coz they've time to kill!
For I can't be killing this precious time
I don't have any spare time on my hands
And it is but challenging to make a chum
out of that swinging pendulum
Time is racing, it's outpacing
For me it seems time has never stood still.
Thus I'll merely have to resign to the fact
that I could never ever tie down mr. Time
for time and tide have waited for none
It's never going to cease, that monotonous chime
even when ceases to pen, a poet's quill
If the battery in thy clock stops
other clocks would be working timely still
So if you lag behind and don't make it in time
you can be sure there are others who will.
So I better let my time-old
venerable grandfather clock
go on with its carefree
dutiful but devil-may-care tick tock
Yah, let the time do the talk
and still tell it it's simply brill!
Categories:
lasso, time,
Form:
Blank verse
WHEN TEARS TOUCH
The twelfth of November reminds me of the day
When our paths first crossed then came to grow on trail.
Soon... all the days like waves rolled into years
As we reminisce our pasts: joys and tears for fears.
A pad with pen I hold to write what pops by;
Each tint and curve a bell that says, you and I.
The words are mere push and pull medley of thoughts
Shaping a circle melody of heart shots.
Learnings flower our way as our cultures shared;
Gem writings topically crafted are compared.
Feelings flood colours to our world, closer we became--
Creeping longing is "our meeting" as this both our aim
Beep and peek are lace ladders to higher trust grounds
Every tap and trade a thread fortifying our bond
The lasso tying our heartstrings to etch some rhymes
Vital signs checked normal but awhile raise second hands
Can it be that this a fruit of stardust's grand wand?
Or a rose waiting to bloom and behold upon bosoms?
Now the day has arrived, suitcases packed, I smile.
A journey, I have dreamt about, many many miles.
Nervousness cocoons but it's normal to feel this;
For this my long wish as I enter the coming hours.
Distance and differences our silent enemies!
But... It did not stop us from thinking sound strategies.
Interest and love gleams as our loyal company;
Enabling us to draw verses of harmony.
Broken bridges we cross by grace of felicity~
Yearning to meet eye-to-eye an intensity
Along the wires we jibe to friendly deal
That as crisp December sings we will make it real.
The cool December made our wanting a tip-top exhilarate..
and from somewhere, a song plays:
"When you feel in your skin in your bones and the hollow
Of your heart, there's no way you can wait till tomorrow.
When there isn't any doubt about it once you come this close
Cos you know and you know that you know...."
_____________________________________________________________
*** the last stanza are lines taken from the song: "WHEN YOU KNOW" by Shawn Colvin from the movie Serendipity.
© J. A. Fraser and O.E.Guillermo
October 29, 2014; 10:05 pm
Categories:
lasso, people, places,
Form:
Rhyme
A lone lion,
the whiskers
sniffing for something
No sudden movements
His faithful
the lioness is trapped
in the alzheimer cave
Confusion around time and place
failure of action and language difficulties
They have been married for many years
Promised eternal fidelity
He does not feel
too old to
do a throw with the lasso -
the tension in the rope drives him
(even though he's married)
A younger lioness to catch
she is weak,
lost his partner
some years ago
is an easily switch
Where does the border going ?
for what is wrong to do
when you knows
that the other is in a relationship?
Is the marriage vow obsolete?
... eternal fidelity and all that
The marriage vows are spoken
before God
and in front of your family
and friends
01/01/2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lasso, blue, confusion, crazy, divorce,
Form:
Narrative
My soul emaciated, starved since birth
A cold ebony soul that has no worth
Love, feelings, emotion, nothing but words
Lasso of Hell pulls me with the unsaved herds
God had a purpose for this blackened Soul
He started with His Grace, to cleanse my Soul
A Purification that made me whole, a Redeemed SOUL
GOD'S LIGHT surrounds me : Thank-YOU GOD for I am Whole
Categories:
lasso, faith, father, hope, loveme,
Form:
Rhyme
Alone, alone, all, all alone
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Rime and Reason I Shall Not
Rime and reason I shall not wonder about,
but the wonders of the sea and its wandering.
I zip in quickly, unzip these Coleridge lines.
I’m all alone as I wander and wonder about.
How pitiable we are as we seek pity,
a pittance of our inside-outs, our doubts.
A whirlwind of living dances about,
in one’s unparalleled walkabout.
All alone in the fog - how does no one else
fathom-see the endless waves of gravity.
Like a lasso-chain about one’s ankles,
heart, lips, mind, emotions; the mourner’s trip.
After, all the battles of cancer are history,
I’m hanging onto Queequeg’s coffin,*
that ebbs in things gone by and flows
with tears that steer my little lost ship,
Rime and reason shared, a lot, and rocks
the boat. Inevitability of solitude in one’s thoughts.
Your hand grips the phone to reach out
but ultimately you phantom-float, and drift.
Sam says “never a saint took pity on…”
The answers are not found. You have to beat
the imagery to death. You end up back in the room
more than the hospice worker, where walls are bright.
The waves close in. Its eyes blank stare
and circle about. You find the smallest details
and ruminate as family fill in the blanks.
You pick each herring up, as if their death’s your fault.
Others take credit for what you know you did
and you question and doubt what you perceive.
All alone on the mourner’s island. It’s not pretty.
But you’ve joined the club, your only solace.
When you’ve picked the scene to death,
like a bird eats his prey, you leave it all,
all alone. The memories are stored away.
Those memories, real or imagined.
Categories:
lasso, death,
Form:
Free verse
Spoke to a cloud today –
the usual conversation
about shape and size,
lows and highs...whether
my need to tote a handy, spring
loaded umbrella...or a better chance
to go without pants, dance
on the beach ~ showing off
thighs, widening sockets
of older generational eyes – he
told me of clouds who gather and
threaten, causing ships to leap into
salty lather, sailors beware!
take battened-down care! – schools
of fishes diving to ocean depths
they share, with ancient vessels (and sewage),
a seafloor covered with sandy
coinage – a diver's delight; when
stormed into sight –
more subjects of our chatter
and debates, were those of tides
and tectonic plates; also of bony-splatter:
living shrapnel, from a well aimed cannon-ball
against a wooden hull, or artillery shell,
man's modern perpetuation, of that never
settling, always heartening seafarer's knell –
I went on to ask, if in all his travels, had
he ever seen anything truly divine?
Like an angel passing...or a saucer
flying...perhaps some mythical dragon
soaring, trying to lasso down a tasty
moon ~ bring him brightly closer,
doing some dragon flips, salivating
for cheesie fondue lips....
Categories:
lasso, humanity, people, perspective, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
If I could give you the moon
I would lasso it and
Pull it to you.
If I could give you the stars
I would gather them in bunches
Just for you.
If I could give you the sun
I would pack it to you know
Matter how hot it was.
If I could give you the wind
I would bottle it up
an hand it to you.
If I could give you the rain
I would catch it in pails
So you could see your
reflection in it.
I would give you my heart
If you could just let my love
Enter your heart.
That is how deep
My love for you is.
Categories:
lasso, lost love, love, passion,
Form:
What if Horton hadn't heard a Who?
or Winnie hadn't been called 'Pooh?'
What if Lucille* hadn't played the blues?
or plaintiffs couldn't find defendants to sue?
What if an atheist got elected Pope?
or a lasso weren't made of rope?
What if doting grandmas would say 'Nope?!'
or if little boys ever washed with soap?
If any of these things ever come true
then I'd be the first to agree:
Horton never heard a Who!
* 'Lucille' was the name of the guitar
of the famous blues performer, B.B. King
Categories:
lasso, fantasy, fun, silly,
Form:
Light Verse