Best Lawman Poems
Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.
One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!
He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.
The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.
He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.
There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.
It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.
Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul!
The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.
May 9, 2017
Categories:
lawman,
Form:
Metrical Tale
“Back in my day” his stories all would start
I’d lean in close to listen though I knew ‘em all by heart
He was a living legend, one of Texas’ best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest
He fought along “RIP” Ford & John Coffee Hayes
When Texas was wooly & wild, back in the good old days
“One Riot, One Ranger” I’ve heard it said many times before
from fighting off Commanches to turning the tide of a range war
A Ranger never faltered, never imagined he could lose a fight
He’d go hell bent for leather just to turn a wrong to right.
From Nueces to Salado Creek he patrolled the border land
Dealing out swift justice with a smoking Colt sitting easy in hand
Hardin, Iron Jacket & Sam Bass thought they could get away
The Rangers ran them down to ground, the stories still are told today
Great Granddad was a hero, one of Texas’s best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest
He passed on the legacy & the stories I’ll now tell
as I hear his voice echo when I start off, “ I remember well”
So tip your hat & raise your glass to the Rangers out there on patrol
and to all the Shadow Rangers, Rest in Peace, God rest your soul
Categories:
lawman, cowboy-western, history, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Evil Olive was cruel and vile to her employee Anna
She forced her to stack cats which had died
Anna was distraught and wanted to leave
Damm It I'm Mad to work here poor Anna cried
Madam, I’m going to walk out of the door
Anna’s face grew redder as she shed a tear
She said I won’t step on no pets any more
Anyone would think the devil lived here!
At noon a lawman arrived in his racecar
He asked Olive, was it a cat I saw?
Don’t nod ... you’ve been on our radar
As my gym is in the building next door!
You’ve been caught, wow, I’ve got the stats
I’ll refer this sad case on to my boss Bob
It’s a top spot to find the missing cats
I’m on the level Olive; you’re out of a job!
Fiction write - no cats were harmed in the creation of this poem...
Palindrome Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
5/11/18
Categories:
lawman, cat, dark, evil, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...
Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun, Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...
Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...
Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...
Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...
For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...
Written 1st July 2021
RIP UNLUCKY JIM
Categories:
lawman, humor,
Form:
Limerick
He was born too late to be,
What he knows he is in his soul,
And though he’s quite accomplished,
Sometimes he doesn’t feel quite whole.
He’s a lawman of sorts,
Born out of his time,
Trying to uphold basic beliefs,
As an example for others to toe the line.
And he rides an iron horse,
And though it’s not a muscled steed,
It gets him where he’s going,
Whenever there’s a need.
They say, sometimes he’s crazy,
Plumb out of his mind,
Searching, for something,
They say he’ll never find.
He rides the asphalt prairie,
Through the heat and through the cold,
Just a Concrete Cowboy,
In search of Days of Old.
He believes in rescuing maidens,
Stuck beside the road,
And he wouldn’t have it any other way,
Than to live by a Code...
“Do what’s right by every man,
And never compromise,
Be good to little children,
“Cause life is a surprise.”
Stuck between buildings,
Of metal, brick and glass,
The only time he sees green pastures,
Is when he cuts the grass.
Looking for a way out,
To a place that’s in his dreams,
Only other Cowboys,
Would ever know what he means.
When he says he’s headed someplace,
Where he’ll race the open sky,
Only other Cowboys,
Understand the reason why...
Why he rides an Iron Horse,
For all the world to see,
It’s his one last chance to go back,
To a time when he was free.
Loyal in his heart,
To those who have gone before,
He scans the horizon,
Looking for that open door.
In the company of Ghost Riders,
In the roaring of the engine and the wind,
He searches for his destiny,
Old lovers and old friends.
Galloping across the miles,
One day he’ll reach the open sky,
Many, will see him pass,
But only other Cowboys will sigh,
Because he rides an Iron Horse,
Through time reflected in the glass,
Riding towards the future,
In an effort to reach the past.
Categories:
lawman, cowboy-western, faith, life, people,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Livin' won't mean a dang thing!
If killin' is how ya survive!
Killin' does dishonor bring!
with being wanted dead or alive!
Every lawman knows yer name!
tellin' everybody what ya did!
the fastest draw gets the fame!
yet, on the run stayin' hid!
There's alway an hombre packin' tough!
a rowdy drunk or ornery fool!
just woundin' a gunslinger ain't enough!
death lays the safest rule!
On the run, gotta stay alert!
wild injuns everywhere!
livin' in caves, sleepin' on dirt!
like a mean ol' grizzly bear!
Shootin' straight 'n' lightning fast!
it's how I aimed, and did!
runnin' roughshod, mimics the past,
for me..."The Rawhide Kid!"
Always gonna remember,
my sweetie pie back home,
keeps burnin' like an ember,
knowin' she's all alone.
Categories:
lawman, adventure, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
In the backwoods of Virginia by a one room country shack
Stood a still that was a brewing that my Mama kept out back.
She kept a shotgun by the backdoor in an old potato sack
and when the travelers came a calling they brought money in a paper sack.
The bell tree was a blowing and you could hear that little ring
for a taste of that clear whiskey and the good times it could bring.
Now in the quietness of the night with a little light from the moon
Came the smoke that was rising from the making of the brew.
Mama had many names she called it and here are just a few...
Corn Liquor, Bush Whiskey, Hillbilly Pop, White Lightning and of course Mountain Dew.
It was warm when you drank it and had a kick like a mule
and if you needed resting you could sit on Mama's stool.
Now the lawmen would come a sneaking and try to find my Mama's brew
but the tin cans that were a hanging would alert her to the news
that someone was a snooping and trying to find her moonshine brew.
But out by Mama's shack was an old hole that she had dug
to hid her jars of whiskey from the lawman that came a looking for her special brew.
They ain't never found her whiskey...but I still know where it is...
and at times I sit on Mama's stool by that old bell tree
and have a sip or maybe two.
T Reams 1st Place
Categories:
lawman, celebration, cheer up, drink,
Form:
ABC
In Sherwood forest where big oaks grow
There lives a band of outlaws
They roam the forest with their long bows
With arrows ready to draw
In an attempt to put the rebels in a jam
A lawman comes up with a plan
He is the sheriff of Nottingham
And he has kidnapped maid Marian
This news quickly spread to Robin Hood
The leader of this outlaw band
He fights for justice and for good
Her freedom he demands
But the sheriff refuses to let her go
Until Robin Hood gives up
But Robin replies with a resounding no
Cause he drinks from victory's cup
Then Robin's men surround the place
Where Maid Marian is being held
The sheriff and his lawmen brace
for battle, but they will soon be felled
Then arrows fly as lawmen fall
And maid Marian is soon rescued
And Robin Hood now stands tall
The hero from the forest of Sherwood
Categories:
lawman, adventure,
Form:
Quatrain
The Color Blue
© Ben Burton
The press is pushing hard
Promoting racial animus
Creating a canard
Like Rosa Parks had missed the bus
The first black President
Who should have made ol' Martin proud
Instead, it came to this
Obama cannot shut his mouth
When color is involved
He opens up and plows right in
The only thing resolved
His pure disdain for white-skinned men
And now we've reached the point
The tipping point of sanity
When inmates from the joint
Are more revered than the police
For socialism feeds
On being arrogant and smug
Emotional deceit
Promoting hate disguised as love
They've managed to create
A straw man of young Michael Brown
Speak truth, you denigrate
Excuse to loot and burn 'em down
For Brown was black, not white
Unarmed, but shot at least six times
Yet who began the fight?
Don't shoot, hands up, scam alibi
So now the leftist loons
Handcuff those who protect and serve
The cops had best not shoot
No matter if it is deserved
But therein lies the rub
What is a lawman sworn to do?
Inside his thankless club
There's just one color, it is blue
Categories:
lawman, political,
Form:
Rhyme
The masked stranger
Tenderly the ranger stood
With kitty in his arms
The saloon fight had rendered her
Enraptured by his charms
His easy strength and gentle face
Though hidden by his mask
Left saloon Kitty faint of heart
Almost afraid to ask
‘Say masked stranger
Are you the law?’
She mewed in melting tones
‘I am,’ the stranger answered
‘This racoon rides alone.’
And so the legend started
Of a masked and lone lawman
Though others have
in other times
Adapted his lone stand.
Categories:
lawman, adventure, cowboy-western, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Pretty Miss Sadie McGrady
Sometimes did things that were shady.
The lawman who sought her
And finally caught her,
Said, “Sadie isn’t a lady”.
Farmer John
Farmer John looked at his new daughter.
Told his wife she shouldn’t of oughter.
He had wanted a son
To help get his work done,
“It's too bad, Big Daddy, you’ve got her.”
Jackie
Jackie had a lot of curiosity
And a smidgen or more of audacity.
When he put in his thumb
And he pulled out a plum,
His mama spanked his bombosity.
Categories:
lawman, funny,
Form:
Limerick
At the foot uv Pikes Peak sprawls the old minin' town uv Cripple Creek.
They wuz nigh on fifty-thousand folks thar when minin' wuz at its peak!
Ol' Bob Womack, a cowpoke, struck gold in Poverty Gulch stakin' his claim.
'Tis said he sold out fer 500 bucks and a jug o' booze - whut a pitiful shame!
Others with more business acumen moved in and made millions off'n them hills!
Platoons uv gamblers, soiled doves and saloons wuz thar fer the miner's thrills!
They wuz even a few preachers and churches to tame them rowdy souls!
The Ladies Cultural Society strove to guide the rabble to reach more noble goals!
To the west, Mount Pisgah, bare and bleak, stood sentry over the raucous town,
Located thar is the cemetery containin' the bones uv some uv dubious renown!
But it must be said that thar is some decent souls sleepin' on that dreary hill.
Thar lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Pearl DeVere is buried thar, 'madam' uv the classiest cribs in Cripple Creek!
She catered only to upscale gentlemen, those with clout, men uv wealthy clique!
The undertaker done her up right smart and the town turned out when she died.
They saw her off in style with a grand parade and finest hearse fer her final ride!
'Doc Susie' Anderson is also buried at Mount Pisgah and wuz the inspiration,
Fer "Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman" and is remembered with great admiration.
Saint and sinner, lawman and desperado lie side by side on that desolate hill.
Their lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lawman, funny, historywinter, lonely, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
an instrument can be defined
as a device that produces musical sound
or it may be a tool for making things
perfectly round
you can strum an instrument
and maybe play a tune
you can use an instrument
to measure the size of a room
people playing instruments
can often be called a band
an instrument can be anything useful
you can hold in your hand
an inventor can be an instrument
with ideals, gadgets and plans
a soldier can be an instrument
with our safety in his hands
a lawman can be an instrument
doing the best he can
a priest can be an instrument
calling God’s Almighty hand
the president is an instrument
with powers for wise use
a journalist like a prophet
telling the unpopular truth
a revolutionist taking control
of uncontrollable youth
an instrument can be a device
that can produce or be misused
Moses and Lincoln were instruments
used to set slaves free
Washington, Jefferson and Franklin
instruments used to make our country
Plato, Socrates and Aristotle
instruments of philosophy
Frost, Dickenson and Whitman instruments
for writing poetry
Patton, McCarthy, Westmoreland
instruments of war
Columbus, Desoto, Armstrong
instruments to explore
Marie Currie, Jonas Salk
instruments to find cures
Abraham, Moses and Jesus instruments
of Gods holy plan
The Holy land of Israel
the instrument of the end
Categories:
lawman, history
Form:
Couplet
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my old friend Dane,
who spends his days riding
across the Texas plains,
working for a big ranch,
he cuts, lassos, and herds,
brings them in at round-up,
brands them all in turn.
Works out in the sunshine,
rides hard for his pay,
heads on down to Randy’s
for a drink at close of day.
the bartender there always
shows his picture to cowgirls,
Dane’s a local legend,
on raging bulls he’s twirled.
Some women try to tame him,
one day one might succeed,
but right now he’s just happy
giving them what they need.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my buddy Bill,
he grew up loving westerns,
I guess he always will.
He loves the boots and hats,
even owns a bolo tie,
if it weren’t for those old movies
he’d have never learned to ride.
Takes trail-rides with his children
out in the country air,
keeps them from their cell-phones,
builds memories to spare.
Takes them to wild west shows,
where old time ballads ring,
doesn’t take much prodding
before the kids start to sing.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask our sheriff Max,
even when out on the job
he still wears a white hate.
Some say that his dark skin
makes the cowboy-look strange,
forgetting all those freed slaves
that once rode the range.
But Max doesn’t give a whit,
he’s an honest, weathered soul,
and every year he dresses up
for the town police festival.
He puts on all his cowboy duds,
plays the old west lawman,
the kids all run up to him
making finger-guns with hand,
But those buckaroos are quick,
he’s never outdrawn a one,
but it’s enough for the sheriff
to see the tykes having fun.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask ol’ Jimmy-Ray,
living down in sunny Georgia,
his feet in the red clay.
he’s never even rode a horse,
but the don't bothered him,
the cowboy code is his bible,
you can see it in his grin.
He’s quite the man of honor,
and will always treat your fair
in his hometown barbecue
if you ever do eat there.
He’s polite to the ladies,
looks each man in the eye,
on days off in his straw hat
his ATV he rides.
He stays loyal to one woman,
his great pride and his joy,
to her he’ll always tip his hat,
it’s good to be a cowboy.
Categories:
lawman, america, culture, fun, how
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
I used to wanna be a cowboy who rides off into the sunset
With her lovin’ eyes on me a sight so hard to forget
Sometimes I’d be an astronaut goin’ where no one’s gone before
Or a doctor saving lives no need to say anymore
I’d rescue damsels from burning three story balconies
Who’d kiss me all over without any formalities
I’d be a lawman or a brave fighter of all kinds of fires
And girls would love me up forever inspired
Movie or rock star yeah this boy could be it all
I can surely see the writin’ up there on that wall
It’s all as it was meant to be
I can be a hero so easily
Just take myself to a place and time
Where everything would be just fine
Where everything would be just fine
As time goes by it’s harder to conjure up all the thunder
Or lose myself in thought and all that sheer wonder
Never wantin’ to think or be wishin’ any of it away
Then, BANG, I see that writin’ it down just may be the way
Movie or rock star yeah this boy could be it all
I can surely see the writin’ up there on that wall
It’s all as it was meant to be
I can be a hero so easily
Just take myself to a place and time
Where everything would be just fine
Movie or rock star yeah this boy could be it all
I can surely see the writin’ up there on that wall
It’s all as it was meant to be
I can be a hero so easily
Just take myself to a place and time
Where everything would be just fine
Where everything would be just fine
Just fine…..
Categories:
lawman, adventure, boy, imagery, innocence,
Form:
Lyric