Best Ranchers Poems
William Bonny AKA Billy The Kid
A Tale Of Billy The Kid
By Robert Gorelick
“Quien esta?”
Bang! It’s over,
you’re a legend now,
Billy.
Born in Hell’s Kitchen in
ramshackle consumptive squalor,
New York’s crammed gang infected
rat-infested shacks
and alleys.
Amid the iniquitous stench
of rot and the soul’s decay,
in a nation at war,
pulling, stretching, ripping
to shreds the frayed fabric
of its precarious union.
An abused juvenile fleeing west
emerging from the muck
to where a soul and body
may heal, breathe deeply,
expand.
At last—life
New Mexico territory spreads open
and wide, easy to be seduced by cynical
range-war ranchers’ welcome greetings
they pay you well for
every cattle rustled,
then desert you as you flee the
sheriff’s posse.
“Quien esta?”
With a concealed knife
you stab a drunken gambler,
self-defense is no excuse
as the ruffian had
important friends.
You’re set to hang, Billy
in a daring display
you shoot your way out,
steal a horse and gallop
off to your woodland
shanty.
Midnight, your shack’s pitch dark,
there’s breathing nearby,
your Mexican novia?
Why doesn’t she speak?
“Quien esta?”
Bang. Pat Garrett guns
you down.
A throw away kid from big city squalor,
becomes a legend of the wild west.
You’re a legend, Billy
1/8/23
Metrical Tale Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
Categories:
ranchers, character, death,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift on my list each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal; I never had fear
With two high school friends I visited a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat
The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona
Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Looked like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, seeking to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode
Even the roadrunners were envious
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride
My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size
I thank Misty often for the ride she gave me
She fulfilled my dream and gave me a thrill
But on the news today a reporter said
Wild horses would now be rounded up and killed
I’m so grateful I had the chance to ride
A wild horse with spirit and awesome speed
But what will become of her ancestors
Misty’s now part of a vanishing breed
*For Frank's "One Standout Day" contest
by Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
ranchers, adventure, animals, happinesshome, home,
Form:
Rhyme
heartbeat of the American dream
early settlers escaped tyranny
rode West, used squatters’ rights
claimed land and turned to ranching
nights ‘neath stars and grub by campfires
from nearby hills wolves howling
driving cattle across wide prairies
boomtowns erected when gold was found
ghost towns remain as a symbol of lost wealth
cowboys saw the growth of a nation
encountered tribes that rebelled
met others that passed peace pipes
Tombstone today haunted by sounds
barroom brawls and sultry saloon singers
not an easy life; the strongest survived
few emulated Clint Eastwood or John Wayne
just men who still enjoy freedom to roam the range
but freedom always comes at a price
few riders had family ties
ladies of the night were their comfort
only a handful became rich ranchers
still they ride
still they ride
Categories:
ranchers, cowboy-westernfreedom,
Form:
Free verse
Beware of the dingo and watch out for your goat,
he hates our current leader, but is unable to vote.
He’s been doing hard time for relations with a horse,
he finally escaped but then he was caught, of course.
Back to Yuma he will go in a red dress and cuffs,
sleeveless I might add as he huffs and puffs.
He’s pretty sneaky this dingo and he’s fond of our landscape,
if he catches wind of your sheep he might try to escape.
I pray Terry and Dave keep a close eye on this chap
the dingo is not picky about what he puts on his lap.
He’s a menace to ranchers and all animals in town,
even in the car park, on the low he is down.
The good folk in Milton Creek will surely watch for his return,
this dingo is full of disease and spreads a rash that will burn.
Don’t try to be a hero, if you hear him talking rough,
he’s been working his fingers and he was born keyboard tough.
Categories:
ranchers, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I come from the borough of Queens, New York
My classmates call me a Klutz and a dork
Those names pervaded my soul, taking a toll
Being at the bottom of the totem pole.
Then Dad took me to the town of Tortilla Flat
I walked into a store, bought a ten-gallon hat
I started talking like John Wayne, also bought some boots
It’s funny how a costume can make a mind slip its roots
The ranchers nodded with respect; I looked like them
Cowgirls smiled in my direction, one shone like a gem
She said there’s a rodeo at half past three
Come join us there, my friends and me.
I said sure, I’ll mosey down there
I’ll bring some popcorn that we all can share
When the time came, I walked into the ring
But through the wrong door, that was the thing.
Two guys lifted me onto a horse, and opened the gate
I shouted, “I’m not a performer!” but it was too late
The horse bolted out, then tried a somersault
I held on for dear life, couldn’t them girls call a halt?
They told me later, t’was the worst horse in the west
I flew over its mane, but it was a personal best
The crowd went wild, but I threw the hat on the mud
Dropped all the popcorn, wiped off the blood
The cowgirl looked adoring, said “that was so cool”
I looked at her, but my mood was cruel
Said “I’m a nerd from Queens, don’t want to pretend
Keep that dang hat, this all got to end."
Dad took me home, the worse for wear
He got me a baseball hat so nobody would stare.
I put it on backwards, I don’t really care
Buy the wrong hat, and it’s dangerous out there.
Categories:
ranchers, environment, girlfriend, humor, pride,
Form:
Lyric
Thank you, God, for everything,
especially, giving life to me,
and thank you for these thoughts of mine
the hills I climb, and dreams.
Thank you for the sky and stars,
planets, asteroids, and moons,
the air we breathe, two eyes to see,
and rose gardens in full bloom.
With butterflies and dragonflies
and birds of every kind,
for ants and worms and even germs
you once brought forth, designed.
Thank you for the grass, trees and whispering breeze,
that cools our skin and bones,
for water, seas and bats and bees,
and our families, friends, and homes.
And thank you for the times we share,
including broken hearts and pain,
with all the lessons we deserve
for our missteps, mistakes, and shame.
From exercising our free will
you gave us from the start,
and thanks for the undeserved grace,
you lovingly impart.
And thank you for our hearts and souls
that make each of us unique,
for ears to hear, hands to hold,
and our lips and tongues to speak.
Thank you for the seasons,
winter, spring, summer, fall,
for boys that like to run and hide,
and little girls with baby dolls.
For teachers, preachers, moms, and dads,
doctors, nurses, and cops,
for truck drivers, ranchers, and farmers,
and all their animals, fields, and crops.
For history, time, and words that rhyme,
and all the knowledge we've attained,
about science, math, and our planets past,
and for snow, ice, fire, and rain.
And thank you God for being,
Our Creator and Love unfurled,
and allowing me yet one more day
to seek and find you in this world.
Categories:
ranchers, appreciation, god,
Form:
Rhyme
(Inspired by Carl Jung and his psychological theories)
We, the humans pull words from physical reminders
as a farmer harvest crops
and as ranchers recognize the animals.
See how children make friends with their toys
and often have imaginary experiences.
They believe for a time, a real and living to them
that allows them a world of fiction and fantasy.
We know the animals talk not
but their eyes have the power
that speaks great language.
And we know for certain how
animals differ from men
as they don’t have financial worries.
See how the birds differ more from man
the way they build their nests
and as they leave, keep landscape as it was.
It’s said about birds
if baby bird has human scent
mom won’t accept it.
And see how
the cuckoo arrives in April,
starts to sing a song in May:
Then in June another tune,
and she flies away.
Birds have senses quite clearer than man.
Once on a chilly Christmas morn
I was looking out of the window.
Most of the birds have gone
on this cold dark winter day.
I saw a Cardinal on the tree
brilliantly colored Northern Cardinal
a winter fixture at snow-covered bird feeders.
I asked myself “Do the birds have Christmas?”
Looking something to eat or
planning in advance for a habitat
on the leafless tree.
When it gets cold, it flies south
when it gets warm, it returns
that is what we learn from birds.
Maybe waiting his girlfriend’s message
About when to bring food to the nest.
Real things grow on our vines of Jungian theory
As our mind chooses words and create thoughts.
One well knows clouds and watermelons
As close relatives, kissing cousins genetically
As their molecular identity is almost the same.
As the mind create
The body expels joy and hate.
We satisfy our needs the best we can
Thereby feed the desire to cast emotional dice.
+++
October 29, 2014
Form: Free Verse"
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Words; the heart of imagination by Brian Johnston
Categories:
ranchers, imagination, words,
Form:
Free verse
Out here in "Colo-rah-dee"
It's dry as dry can be
Dustbowls do get rowdy
As far as you can see
Ranchers cook upon the fire
Some coffee and some beans,
There something to admire
Have been many movie themes
Buffalo Bill did travel here
Many years ago
Drive up to see, have no fear
There's lots they have to show
Travel up to the plains
Where buffalo and antelope roam
You will never be the same
It may become your home
For out here we live simply
Our clothes and boots are worn
Our middles may be dimply
Our shirts they may be torn
Mountains may surround us
And blaze in summers sun
Gold has caused many to fuss
That's how the west was won.
So come on out to see
The country at its best
I chose to live here for me
Because I love the West.
Categories:
ranchers, cowboy-western, may,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
The wolf is the ancestor of domesticated dog.
(Did you think we found our pets in prehistoric catalogue?)
That fact should be enough to make us tolerate the wolf
And to forgive his killing everything with a horn or hoof.
They keep eco-system in check by taking share of the big game.
But ranchers hate the wolves for sometimes taking prey that's tame.
They communicate with each other with howls and growls and barks and whines.
They kill and eat and then when saturated, another creature dines.
A wolf is not a grain eater, a wolf must have his meat.
If he is not allowed to kill, he and his family do not eat.
They have been exterminated from the most of this USA.
There are still some in Canada, Alaska, and parts of Northwest today.
Wolves live in large areas a contiguous habitat.
We're trying to reintroduce them and some folks do not like that.
Wolves keep big herds thinned and they take the old and lame.
Man shoots prize animals for the fun of it and calls his victims game.
Written 4/2/15
Categories:
ranchers, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
The old country vet traversed Henry County over hill and dell.
He was a familiar sight in his buggy pulled by his horse, old Nelly Bell!
He served farmers and ranchers for nigh on two generations,
Deliverin' calves, foals and lambs and performin' tricky operations.
He left the comfort of his bed on many a cold and blustery night,
To help a cow deliver her calf by the mellow glow of a lantern light.
He'd been kicked by cantankerous mules and butted by grumpy goats;
Spat upon by numerous llamas and trampled by chargin' shoats;
Bitten by mean old junkyard dogs and clawed by feral cats;
Gored by irate bulls and pestered by stingin' gnats!
He witnessed the miracle of birth durin' his practice of many years,
And won the confidence of his clients and the esteem of his peers.
Though he had some book learnin' he mostly taught himself.
He never aspired to become rich and had little of the world's pelf.
He recognized that God created all creatures great and small,
And suffered the hazards of the job to treat and love them all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
ranchers, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
The Fox:
1. the blare of the horn
snooty hooves of fire red coats...
panting for my life
2. briar rabbit ears
twisting in my angry grip...
more tall tales are told
3. a hen in my mouth
a farmer without his gun...
life can be so good
The Wolf:
1. silver sinews coil
full moon permits me to speak...
shivers for all men
2. my proud bloody coat
clings to young Navaho skin...
tales of my demise
3. the grind of tractors
growl grief to my amber eyes...
leave my land alone
The Coyote:
1. mangy vermin shriek
pelts darken with scarlet smear...
ranchers open fire
2. mere morsels to munch
lupine snap shears of warning...
always last in line
3. roy rodgers singing
cactus cattle and trail dust...
my chorus off key
Categories:
ranchers, animals, imagination, nature
Form:
Haiku
we were children then
you were the youngest of three
how could he take you
without taking me
i sheltered you
when you were small
and picked you up
if you should fall
i helped to teach you
right from wrong
somehow you seemed
to get along
a ranchers life
we children shared
up in the saddle
you and i were paired
so much younger
you than me
watching you
came naturally
you always wanted
to be the first
and into each room
your presence burst
how sad dear brother
to see you go
you must have known
we loved you so
i guess you got
your final wish
and now you have
entered heavens bliss
please save a place
for sis and me
so we may share
eternity...
Love you Tom
Categories:
ranchers, dedication, losschildren,
Form:
Rhyme
Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift I wanted each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal, I never had fear
With two high school friends, I went a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat
The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona
Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, hoping to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode
Even the roadrunners were envious
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride
My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size
*For Gregory Paul's "Favorite Animal" contest
Categories:
ranchers, fun, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
Follow me to a wonderful place,
Where sugar and frosting stck to your face.
There is a peppermint house and a chocolate town clock.
There are gumdrops for grass on every town block.
The children play dodge ball with a ball made of sweets,
While cars made of jolly ranchers dance in the streets.
A sour key unlocks each and every door.
When you come to Candy Land, you'll never want more.
The sun in the sky is a lemmony yellow,
And the white fluffy clouds are giant marshmallows.
Street lamps stand tall, made of yummy red licorice.
They make your belly feel warm and ticklish.
The side walks are lined with tasty sweet tarts,
A place to stroll with you favourite sweet hearts.
The people are not people, but cute gummy bears.
This magical place is where evreryone shares.
Out comes the milky way moon and candy bar stars.
It's time to park thoes jolly rancher cars.
On come the tall red licorice lights.
In Candy Land the days are as sweet as the nights!
Categories:
ranchers, childhood, sweet, candy, red,
Form:
Blank verse
In the sky
At the bottom of the Earth
Four times the size
Of the U.S. of A.
In Chile,
Blinded salmon, rabbits,
Ranchers
Testify to something nasty
Going on with the sun.
Up North,
Cavefish politicians
Scoff at these revelations, saying,
"No hole up here, and see -
We've been blind for years."
One day these self-made eyeless
May find themselves upon the plates
Of forgotten Morlocks down below.
Categories:
ranchers, change, dark, environment, visionary,
Form:
Free verse