Best Roping Poems
A burst of white light
gamma rays, overbearing
a flash of brilliance
burns through to my soul
everything is like hell
the world starts to melt
in the blink of an eye
just the cold blackness
of night
I don't care if I am not again
what I once was, for at this moment
I am greater now
than ever before
I took the path between
teetering, tight roping walking
right up to my right
divined in my unholy state
I thought I told you
I am your king
still you sit there, hesitating
I know you hate me
what does that mean?
I hate just about everything
still I'm chosen
I did not wish before
now bow down to me
refuse me no more
for I shall always be your demon
until you accept me as your King.
I don't even know you
though you say we used to be
best of friends, you and me
the day you ditched me
I remember now
exactly how it played out
back when we were just tiny things
even back then I still was King
you thought me stupid
just a ruse
I would laugh inside, you see?
not one of you single, mean people
ever even knew me
in a world, mostly seen to me
that is why only I can be your true King
and bring forth a new source
of light everlasting.
As two worlds collide slowly aligned
one wrapped in shadows
one bathed in white
evils swirling in the clouds above
I'll always be the king you love
to hate or despise as in your blood
I thought I told you, I am the one
I am the way, the way out shall be shown
breathe in my spirit as it carries you away
breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space
and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough
higher than you've ever dreamed of
for I am king now, and your in my hell
your in my imagination, I'll just never tell
you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now
if you try and see
you were always found the most
shared in the light cast upon me
the last bright star in heaven.
Denounce my name, if you may
One year later, still not afraid
A black sheep, a darkened spade
That's just life, I'm not right
I'm in the wrong, follow along
Like a piper, I'll pitch a song
Mesmerized, the weak wills sing
I thought he told you, he's still our king.
An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.
Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.
Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.
I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.
(N.B Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)
The endgame
And the cemetery was
nowhere to be found
yet was so present
in the shallow depth
the graveyard of the mind
No tombstone unturned
fragmented torn and twisted
sorrow flowing down
encrypted alleyways
and Thanatos’ call
Searching to imprint
coffin’s nails on seams
of muddy icy prison
hammered chiselled avenues
creeping through and in
Dead alive and collocated
hell firing place and time
scorching cementing
looming crossing overs
to where and when to how
No monument just
monumental nothing
void oppression
endless loop’s demise
thoughts emotions dragging
Torrential thunders
roping in electrocuted lightning
nooses from the tree of
living emptied darkness
flowing rapids standing still
The cemetery awaiting
ashes urns and vultures
presiding over Ganges Styx
Caron caring like a
lifeless Buddha saddened
Giving taking suffering
unthreading tapestry graffiti
splashing on the canvass
sombre art in progress
oscillating back and forth
The reaper harvests harshly
the mindless soul and body
crumbling bones infested
carbons desiccation apathy
hedonistic pleasures dull extinct
Gravitation nudges wild
and gently roaring
culling sculls foreclosing scooping
offerings burthens memories
premature un-furbished epitaphs
Silent roaring rampant syncopal
admonished synergetic resolution
teasing fool and morbid jester
luring loosening resolve
apprehending lithographic scribes
And the cemetery blinding
obvious and for the taking
present not yet for embrace
remains a silhouette on the horizon
and life for now is stronger
May 18th 2016
Contest entered:
And the cemetery was... Broken Wings
My oldest possession is a spittoon
My spittoon goes back a ways into history
Where it originated is a bit of a mystery
It has a bullet hole right aboutOhere
I’m told that Buffalo Bill Cody put it there
From over across the street to impress his girl
The Lass who went by the name of Annie Oakley
She could ride and shoot with the very best of all men
She would beat all of them at their very own game
Riding and roping, trick shots gathering fame
She out shot Frank Butler who fell for her
and he was forever happy as her lover.
In Cody’s wild west show she pleased a lot
of people who loved her as “Little Sure Shot”
May 11 2010 For Amy's "Complete Concrete" contest
Cowboy Bob loved taking the kids to the campfire
He told them stories about roping cattle, cleaning manure out of barns,
riding broncos, driving tractors, eating from a chuckwagon
They were fascinated by his stories
There was a lot of laughter
We grown-ups had our own circle and our own bonfire
Grateful that Cowboy Bob loved entertaining our children
It made our campout experience so much nicer
boxer
quick youth
roping doping dropping
the one armed ghost
champion
Penning wrangled mime
and wared out of my skits,
I’m poked in serspiration,
My mind’s in fisted twits.
It’s not the way I spike to leak;
I’ve turned to try it down.
Still I'm rilled with florious grime,
so nothing dings me brown.
We poets are a lazy crot,
voiling with turds and worse.
Roping with the fools of corm,
dinditions so reverse.
A hong lot toke in the sub
might dude me a girl of wood.
Or how about a bun at the reach?
Well, I can’t wet a gay, but I should.
My granddaughters asked me one day
"Grammy, how did you date
Going to an all girl school
Wasn't it pretty hard for you?"
They were at that dating age
And figured they could trap me
I just told them with a smile
I knew were I was going all the while
I stayed in school
And got my teaching job
Near the H bar T spread
On Nebraska sod
The land lady invited the cowboy
From up the valley one eve
To come down for a little supper
And meet the new lady who was going to teach
We spent the evening playing double solitaire
An when he got ready to leave
I asked him, " Please
Can you put my saddle in the barn for me?"
Sunday found me busy at work
Getting ready for school to start
He stopped by and wanted to know
If to the roping club with him I'd go
I did go and from that day on
Wednesday night, Friday night, Saturday
And Sunday's were our days,
Work permitting.
He had been on his own since he was fifteen
And took special pride in his work
Sometimes in the evening if he had the time
You just might find us on the phone line
Thanksgiving rolled around
And I went to Kansas to see my folks
And he went Wyoming to look at a ranch
On the way back he stopped by my place
I walked him to the car when he was ready to leave
And I told him, "I'm going to a wedding
On June Nineteenth."
He just looks at me and says
"If I'm supposed to be there just let me know"
I did
He did come
And we were forty seven years and two weeks
As one
When I got finished telling the granddaughters
Their mouths were open in shock
Grammy did you really do that
I said Yep
An that's how you
Came about.
I told Billy about the girls and me
And he replied with a grin
"You know you're right
I never did ask you to marry me."
When Billy looks down on me from above
I kiss my wedding band with love
For on our wedding bands you'll find
The stars and the moon for all time
Here's the doodle, way out West
mind's a noodle, not depressed,
searched the Pantry's, not to guess
where's the boot, hat, cowboy's vest!
Fair and Rodeo, next month soon,
all the young'uns needing room
their vacation, munching's boom
cupcakes, chips, the same old tune!
This might work, the cattle breaks
and roping tricks combine to make
the Western motif for land's sake
I'll do their garments as a bake!
Sprig some chocolate on the boots
and colored bits, the vests light up,
and say that Cowboy hat, iced blue,
who can resist this interlude!
While calves are tangled by tossed ropes
these plates of cookies will win folks
and on the fair grounds, horses broke
will highlight ranching moments told!
And at the Bake Shop, not to boast
their pastry goodies had before,
ranch style brings my feelings high,
the colors bouncing upwards score!
Now grab a plate, this will be fun
maybe an entry, I should make
these charming cookies Number One,
should bring the biggest hungry down!
the salt sweats into the flung spray
the stirred spume of the waters
twining the molecules of the morning's
gaze
to windward it lazily plays
like the woman's electric touch
the dawn touching the enlivening
day
the oxygens come evident through the languidly, scented
haze
sitting curled atop the dabbled cover, sipping coffee
with rhythmic grace she bends, sending
skin and fascination within her stretching, seeming
form
in deep quiddity and fire
like the Gulf's thick air, she fills my dry lungs
like the salt she sends to my eyes
to sights delicious in the tides of the night
spent, the sensed yen
spooned loose on salted
meat
like water that
pulls across bone white
sand
rolling, turning, roping into
warm, green depths
again
steps lightened with release
the morning sweet in its suspension of
abiding
unease
long limbs settled fine. rubbers and lipstick lines
indulge and dine on the purer pleasures
of the tree
the woman, the salt, the blending skin, and the
sea.
Hey there Buckaroo
what’s your hurry?
Momma hollered after
her pride ‘n joy
she smiled swiftly
as little boots clomped
with spurs jingle janglin’
across the kitchen floor
“Aw Momma, don’t worry!
I’ll be home before dinner
but I drew the rank bronc
It’s a sure winner!”
Then whistling Lil Joe
and roping the cat
her boy mounted up
on his trusty hobby horse
“Don’t slam the door”
She said with a laugh
has the hinges rattled
& the old screen door crashed
He was already gone
riding silver screen dreams
that old grey black hat
setting low on his ears
Hey there Lil Buckaroo
Don’t be in such a hurry
Time passes quick enough
You still have stick ponies to curry
Too soon you’ll grow tall
& become a young man
chasing girls & fast cars
enjoy your childhood while you can
In a blink of an eye
or faster than that
you’ll no longer wear boots
toss a rope or wear that old hat
You’ll follow your own path
but where ever it leads
I hope you remember
Your Lil Buckaroo deeds
Hey Lil Buckaroo
slow down, what’s your hurry?
Don’t gallop too quickly
through these Buckaroo Days
© February 2003
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
where the mountains reach the sky,
and the eagles soar way up high,
folks are friendly and give you a smile,
it's the Montana way of saying stay awhile.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
need a change of scenery,
where the forests are full of greenery,
ranches spread throughout the land,
cowboys on horses roping calves to brand.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
it is where I am bound,
praying a job will be found,
my lonely saddle needs a horse to ride
so I can rope cattle with some pride.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
with shiny boots and a new ten-gallon hat,
making me feel like a big fat cat,
as I act like a polite and handsome dude
so all the ladies will not find me rude.
I'm on my way to Butte Montana,
staying a night at a KOA Campground
with folks who are from all around,
sharing a campfire with sparkling and glowing heat,
knowing this is the life that cannot be beat.
How does one measure a day without shadows
Is there ever one day to hold in the sun
Or are we assigned to rewrite the story
Untangle the knots that kidnap the mind
Arrange fragile moments, unravel the twine
Where everything wonderful would fall into place
Choreographed order in every small thing
Where we could rephrase all the words we have said
and pretend to accept what lay ahead
Where we could take back each reckless thing we did,
take back each careless step we took
and not be caught in the timeless vine
roping around us to be resigned
It might have changed the future then
if only we could undo then
There would be a different road out there
snaking its way through different hills
where snow would still sleep atop an alpine peak
and the road would end here at our feet
What was then
would not be was
Perhaps if I had known back then....
what was learned in time, somehow...
It might be,...
oh,... so different now...
________________________________________________
Contest: Resignation
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
Many years ago, I spent my life in vain
Yearning for peace nobody by himself could gain…
Groping wearily in that dark vacuum with pain
Oh! I was lost – in trespasses, I was slain.
Desperate was I in such unsure condition…
Keeping rituals and blinded by false religion
Needing God to free me from sins’ dominion
Only by His grace can I have assured redemption.
Wholly freed by God from the devil’s enslavement
Saved am I now through my Savior’s sacrifice-fulfillment…
My life He quickened, clothed with righteousness’ raiment
Yes, with His love, He took away my punishment.
Now, I gladly live for Christ* Who knows my soul’s need
Eternal promises He gives, no one can exceed
Enriched with His blessings, I praise and thank Him indeed
Deserving of my service, He – my God, I heed.
*Galatians 2:20 I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.
April 11, 2018
Edited on June 11, 2020
Acrostic in rhyme form
8th place, "Your Best Poem" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 6/12/2020.
My Old Saddle
Like a heavy rose in silver and leather
Every stitch a life, thirty-three pounds,
In cow hide, veined by fields
In the foothills of Alberta,
Reined and grained by waving wheat,
Watered by a woodland creek,
Nourished by the mouths of cattle,
Shaped by the hands of an artist
Tooled in flower and leaf.
That old saddle
Rode.
We trotted.
Mule, rider, and saddle;
Taut in a padded, black suede seat
Relaxed, eager and ready,
Flanked by silver studded eyes
That smiled skyward
From that chestnut leather,
Golden, with that hard horn of happiness
Freedom in that roping saddle,
We cantered
With a good and gentle cantle.
From that soft arising swell
Of vibrant, equine, musty smell.
The saddle lathered as
We galloped.
My mule’s back swam in padded fleece
Muscles floating the saddle from underneath.
The side skirts swelled
Buckles and stirrups yelled
The trail ride refrain
We’re doing it again!