Best Stetson Poems
A well-appointed cowpoke, of whom there are still a few,
Wanted to be properly clad for his first job interview.
So, to impress his potential and somewhat cynical boss,
He has a silver-studded saddle throwed across his hoss!
He's wearin' a ten-gallon hat, a Stetson if you please,
And a bandana 'round his neck to catch the dusty breeze.
The dude has a roll-yer-own a-danglin' from his lips,
And a shiny pair of forty-fours a-hangin' from his hips!
He's wearin' a hand-tooled leather belt of the finest grade,
And a "cowboy" shirt and a vest cut from top-grade suede!
A woolly pair of chaps covers his bow-legged knees,
And protects his Calvin Kleins that fit so tight they squeeze!
His gleamin' pair of Tony Lama boots with pointy toes,
Completes what he considers proper cowboyin' clothes.
The silver spurs on his boots glint in the noonday sun;
Ah, he's the ideal picture of a range-ridin' son-of-a-gun!
The boss, arms folded, feet spread, sportin' a knowin' grin,
Didn't seem to be impressed, much to the greenhorn's chagrin.
Sizin' him up from head to toe, he said, "You look fit and able",
Handed him a fork and shovel and sent him to the stable!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
stetson, cowboy-western
Form:
Rhyme
A black Stetson waits in your chair
Dust now follows sunbeams in the air
Life's lessons remain in this place
Death's reach can't erase your face
Smoke rings and laughter linger here
Ghostly melodies drift where they dare
Distant guitar strings echo and cry
Trapped, untouched now...where they lie
A bird's song gets lost in the breeze
Love's magic...fades in dreams
Songs we sang before, haven't changed
Souls however, seem re-arranged
Oh, won't you please join me again
Let your wondrous music begin
This empty guitar and silence...an odd pair
A black Stetson waits in your chair
(c) Donna Jones
Categories:
stetson, music, tribute,
Form:
Couplet
He pulled up to the Triple "T" Ranch in a shiny Cadillac.
In his trailer was an Arabian steed with the finest tack.
He wore Tony Lama alligator boots and Calvin Klein jeans,
And a stylish Stetson hat - he looked like a man of means!
He strode to the corral where grizzled cowpokes lazed.
They chortled at the greenhorn, each of them amazed!
"Where's the boss?" he asked, "I'm seeking a position!"
"Over yonder" said they. (The boss eyed him with great suspicion!)
The boss sauntered over to see what the hullabaloo was all about.
"I'll handle this! You fellers git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized up the lad saying, "Son, I ain't impressed with them fancy labels!
But you're hired! Here's a shovel! Ya kin start by muckin' out them stables!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Green Humor Rhymes" Contest
Categories:
stetson, green, humorous, work,
Form:
Rhyme
On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
The inside is decorated
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
Everybody loves a shindig
Where square dancing is the craze
Violins, guitars and banjos
Loud hillbilly music plays.
There’s a guy who’s always present
He’s the handsome Cowboy Kurt
On his head a leather Stetson
Dressed in jeans and chequered shirt.
Carol comes in golden pigtails
Gorgeous looking in flared skirt
She stands out; her smile is charming
She is hot and likes to flirt.
Cowboy Kurt looks quite appealing
He taps his feet to the beat
As other couples are reeling
Pretty Carol takes a seat.
Kurt decides to mosey on up
And lay his heart on the line
See if Carol would share some grub
Perhaps a swig of moonshine.
Tiny Carol surprises Kurt
Chugging down half a bottle
She eyes him coyly, looking pert
Then starts to jig full throttle.
Stunned Kurt is reeling to and fro
As wee Carol takes the lead
Dance floor clears; they put on a show
Kurt looks like a tumbleweed.
Music wouldn’t stop fast enough
For Kurt who couldn’t square dance
Carol is made of tougher stuff
And has high hopes for romance.
Totally lit and loving it
Carol trots to the outhouse
But when she returns, Kurt has split
“Where’s my man?” Carol does grouse
In his truck Kurt has hit the trail
Head still spinning from the dance
Carol sits upon a hay bale
Hoping he’ll return to prance
After the hoe down was over
Banjos and fiddles tucked away
Cowboy Kurt was still a rover
Out cold on the hay Carol lay.
------------------------------------------------------------
Written 6th October, 2014
A collaboration by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
stetson, dance,
Form:
Rhyme
" ONE MORE TIME "
Stale and innocent I close my eyes.
Unpolished bones inside.
I mock my dreams, in hope I find reality.
I swim like streamers near an undying sea.
STALE ............
INNOCENT against a stetson smell.
I CLOSE the door that circulates my emotions.
MY EYES, allergic to the the smallest particles of your lies.
UNPOLISHED beauty, that can't be seen with the naked eye.
BONES INSIDE shiver like no other.
I MOCK the same words, over and over. ((I LOVE YOU))
MY DREAMS keep me from fading.
IN HOPES I wake up to feel more alive.
I FIND REALITY when I close my eyes.
I SWIM LIKE the open sunrise.
LIKE, the moon you come and go.
STREAMERS NEAR and far, move real slow.
AN UNDYING SEA, I just want to fall and jump right back in.
BY;PD
Categories:
stetson, adventure, desire, devotion, hope,
Form:
Free verse
"Howdy to you all from Colorado! This is Cletus Schlunk reporting,
Where gossip is fair and balanced and there is little or no distorting!
It's the home of the Rockies, Broncos, Nuggets and potholes galore,
And old mining towns like Leadville and Cripple Creek, full of western lore!"
"Hordes of gaping tourists from all over come to visit the Centennial State,
So I collared one to get his views and his comments to you I'll relate."
"Sir, could you spare a few minutes of your time for a little chat?
Tell me where you're from and where did you get that silly hat?"
"Ah'm frum th' great state uv Texus an' that's a hunder'd dollar Stetson son.
Now, don'tcha go a-makin' sport uv me - ah've cum here ta have a little fun!"
"Be forewarned that when sipping a cool Coors, respect the altitude here."
"Yup! Ah've figgered out that jes' one uv 'em will set ya' on yer rear!"
"What do you think of our magnificent mountains reaching for the sky?"
"Shucks! We used to have 'em in Texus an' they wuz nearly twice as high!
But ah'm here ta tell ya', they wuz flattened out years an' years ago.
That's why Texus is th' biggest state in the lower 48, I want ya'all ta know!"
"Have you fished our pristine streams, many that are off the beaten track?"
"Yup! Caught a 30-incher - he wuz a Texus minner so I throwed 'im back!"
"Well, folks, he out-bragged me so I brought the interview to a hasty cease!
Till next time, from Colorful Colorado, I wish each of you happiness and peace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in the "Reporting Live On The Soup" Contest - July 2010
Categories:
stetson, funnyme, me, , western,
Form:
Rhyme
"The Green Bruise of Daylight"
A person can die for love
one sees red
the other sees blue
purple bruises
one sees red
alarm lights siren
purple bruises
detach into the grey
alarm lights siren
there is no more singing
detaches into the grey
courts fuelled by pocketsful of lies
rocks and gavels
for the weighting
ocean deep confetti
bottomless drowning
the other sees blue
detaches into the grey
purple bruises
fade away
purple bruises
wrapped in
white paper sentences
stain the mind
words black peppered
crushed mulberry memories
flock like seagulls
their call haunting
hungry scavengers feeding
messages clipped
around their ankles
carrier pigeons in steel cages
jail birds wait the day anticipating
windows watch
windows the colour
of deep forests turn and
walk away
murders of crows
wings rise and fall
towards the green
bruise of daylight
stain the mind mottled
lights along a road
flood the dark spots
driven the long way home
behind straight lines
boundaries marked
contained within fences
broken prisons min min jackets
keys thrown far away
golden chords harpooned
in the heart
of a lost cherub
in safe harbour
another calling see
waves wash the
grave dirt away
windows watch windows
the colour of deep forests turning
towards dark night, the missing
archangel walks away
spilling blood
like poetry
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
A Halloween Story
hints of pantoum
photographic art, Max Dupain/Australian.
Music. "High Above a Green Grey Sea", Colin Stetson.
Categories:
stetson, dark, halloween, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
Now Jake was a Dapper man
Black Stetson and great style
Ladies were afraid of him
Even with that sparkling smile
They all feared his presence
Although he looked so cool
They may have been attracted
Yet these ladies were no fools
Never look him in the eye
Best to give him a wide berth
The old men tried to warn me
For Jake life had little worth
They agreed that Jake had style
Sadly he's as mean as they come
Nothing but a smooth talker
With a solid silver gun
I watched him for a moment
Then it seems I caught his eye
Walking slowly towards me
With his gun strapped to his thigh
I wasn't seeking trouble
Still it was coming my way
I stared him straight in the eye
and said "come make my day!"
For a moment he waivered
He was used to seeing fear
Before he pulled his gun
I shot him in the ear
With that he dropped his gun
Because I drew too fast
If he made another move
It would surely be his last
Now they call him one eared Jake
He's not such a dapper man
It's much harder to get dressed
I shot some fingers off his hand
A Shadowlam production.
Brought to you by Shadow Hamilton
and Richard Lamoureux.
Thank you Shadow for Dapper Jake
and for letting me add to your story.
This was fun!
Categories:
stetson,
Form:
Quatrain
Not for The Howdy Partner Contest
How many times, have you found,
yourself, walking down the street
Stetson on your head
and cowhide on your feet
Trying to rustle up
a verse, that seems the best
For The Shadow Hamilton
Poetry contest
Now, I started drinkin' whiskey
and scratching my blue jeans
But I can't think of anything
that's worth a hill of beans
It's got to be a good one
better than the rest
to win, Shadow Hamilton's
Poetry contest
I thought I'd start out writing
'bout a horse and dusty trails
Train robbing, riding hard
And 'bout that time in jail
But I have to tell ya'll
This cowboy's kinda stressed
Over Shadow, Hamilton's
Poetry contest.......................Heee yaaaa !
Categories:
stetson, poetry, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
'Twas an ominous moment when rode into town
To its marshal defy and outdraw and gun down
A notorious, murderous varmint named Slade
Who had widows and orphans throughout the west made.
The next morning, as destined, they met on the street
To for title of gunfighter finest compete.
Marshal Matson, with duty to outlaw arrest,
Versus Slade, risking life in the ultimate test.
At a distance the townspeople gathered to see
The historical challenge that thrilling should be.
Two tall figures unconquered and stoic and brave,
With the loser interred in a premature grave.
Foes whose shadowy faces beneath Stetson brim
Wore expressions determined, ferocious, and grim.
Hands were poised over holsters attached to their thighs,
Jaws were set, hands were steady, and angry were eyes.
Doomed to sprawl in the dust would be gunslinger slain,
While the victor would toasted and honored remain.
Marking one more rash braggart whose lifetime is done
Would be notch newly carved in his pearl-handled gun.
No one knows who drew first for the blur was too fast.
Barrels blazed in a loud, simultaneous blast.
Then a second and third and again and again
Until chambers were empty, but still stood two men.
Errant bullets great havoc had caused all around.
Precious water was gushing from tower through holes.
An unfortunate, low-flying buzzard was downed,
Signs were dangling from hinges, and riddled were poles.
From the crowd that was watching arose a great roar,
But of laughter, not cheering as always before.
The combatants, embarrassed and hanging their heads,
Scurried back to concealment in brothel room beds.
All night long drunken witnesses filled the saloons
To guffaw, raise a rumpus, and target spittoons.
While on opposite ends of the town slinked away
Into darkness two shadows disgraced on that day.
So astoundingly awful and wayward was aim
That the pair's reputations were never the same.
Butts of jokes the names Matson and Slade have since been.
Still remembered for showdown that neither could win.
Categories:
stetson, adventure, history, humor, parody,
Form:
Quatrain
The sun is up, the sun is yellow, shining bright.
Reflection of chrome, pointed nowhere in particular.
Where there should be peace, it’s high noon.
A breakdown in communication, shrieking bars.
Reflection of chrome, pointed nowhere in particular,
until an itching trigger finger got caught in its snare.
A breakdown in communication, shrieking bars,
teeth bared between tumbleweed growth on worn face.
Until an itching trigger finger got caught in its snare,
the peacemaker slept with his stetson over good eye.
Teeth bared, between tumbleweed growth on worn face,
an enemy with a singular task approaches his foe.
The peacemaker slept with his stetson over good eye,
a scarred patch could see past the dusty row.
An enemy, with a singular task, approaches his foe,
notorious with two-fisted cannons to smoke him.
A scarred patch could see past the dusty row,
his hearing, respectable - comes recurring nightmare,
notorious with two fisted cannons to smoke him.
A red-tailed hawk tattles on the uncuffed catalyst.
His hearing, respectable - comes recurring nightmare.
Where there should be peace, it’s high noon
A red-tailed hawk tattles on the uncuffed catalyst.
The sun is up, the sun is yellow, shining bright.
Categories:
stetson, conflict,
Form:
Pantoum
On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
The inside is decorated
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
Everybody loves a shindig
Where square dancing is the craze
Violins, guitars and banjos
Hillybilly music plays.
There’s a guy who’s always present
He’s the handsome Cowboy Kurt
On his head a leather Stetson
Dressed in jeans and chequered shirt.
Carol comes in golden pigtails
Gorgeous looking in flared skirt
She stands out; her smile is charming
She is hot and likes to flirt.
Cowboy Kurt looks quite appealing
He taps his feet to the beat
As other couples are reeling
Pretty Carol takes a seat.
Kurt decides to mosey on up
And lay his heart on the line
See if Carol would share some grub
Perhaps a swig of moonshine.
Tiny Carol surprises Kurt
Chugging down half a bottle
She eyes him coyly, looking pert
Then starts to jig full throttle.
Stunned Kurt is reeling to and fro
As wee Carol takes the lead
Dance floor clears; they put on a show
Kurt looks like a tumbleweed.
Music wouldn’t stop fast enough
For Kurt who couldn’t square dance
Carol is made of tougher stuff
And has high hopes for romance.
Totally lit and loving it
Carol trots to the outhouse
But when she returns, Kurt has split
“Where’s my man?” Carol does grouse
In his truck Kurt has hit the trail
Head still spinning from the dance
Carol sits upon a hay bale
Hoping he’ll return to prance.
After the hoe down was over
Banjos and fiddles tucked away
Cowboy Kurt was still a rover
Out cold on the hay Carol lay.
*Written October 6, 2014
by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
Categories:
stetson, dance, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
It seemed to Hank it was jes' a couple of hours ago since he'd hit the hay.
Now the risin' sun jes' peekin' over the hills heralded another day.
His old hound dog, Spooks, tugged at his blanket a-wantin' to play,
And his faithful hoss, Ol' Dan, greeted him with a raucous neigh.
He pulled on his boots, Stetson hat and bandana, his usual attire,
And stirred last nights camp fire embers to bring alive the fire.
He ate his usual grub of beans, biscuits, coffee and bacon,
And suddenly realized that is was Sunday, if'n he warn't mistaken!
"Wahl" he mused, "I don't reckon the boss'll mind if'n I tarry here a spell.
I'd jes' like to chat with the Lord this mornin' and tell Him all is well."
Hank sat on a log sippin' his joe from a tin cup a-gazin' across the vale,
Thinkin', "I don't need no fancy church to worship. They's confinin' as a jail!"
"Lord, you know I ain't gittin' rich cowboyin' and that's fer damn sure!
Er, 'scuse me Lord fer cussin'. I'm tryin' to make my sinful tongue more pure."
"I don't need no earthly possessions when all about me is Yer great Creation.
These here mountains, rivers and cowboyin' that I love is my compensation."
"I'm a-thankin' Ye fer them eagles soarin' on the wind and fer Yer eternal love,
And fer the pristine Colorady sky, the moon and stars shinin' from high above."
"And finally Lord, when this old cowpoke comes to the end of the trail,
I'd be obliged if'n I could dwell in Yer Corral when I cross that mysterious veil."
"Thank Ye Lord fer lendin' me Yer ears and I promise to keep my cussin' at bay."
"Wahl boys, we'd better skedaddle and git to herdin' them steers to earn our pay."
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
stetson,
Form:
Rhyme
Eel River Tragedy
I’ve gold dollars for my darlin and a Stetson for my son,
and in my old broke saddlebags, I keep my Schofield gun,
when home I’ll make some coffee and tell a tale I’ve seen,
about the Eel river tragedy, the like since never seen
In sunset’s dust, ten thousand steers, drank from muddy banks,
while one hundred thirsty cowboys rode into their ranks,
the water soon was muddy, a bubbling rattlesnake red,
and fifty cowhands underfoot, man and boy lay dead
A cyclone made of hooves and horns, took them to their grave,
two thousand of the hasty breed, died from drinking mud, laid
poisoned in the mornin sun, did cheat the slaughterer’s thud
Now that’s a lot of good men, who didn’t need to die,
they’re lookin down in anger from the roundup in the sky,
so if your steers need water, then split the herd in turns,
and send your hands upriver, to drink by settled ferns
Categories:
stetson, loss, remember, river,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Hats are such a marvel,
when the weather is so garbled,
A multitude of quick coverlets to warm the brain
protect the head from snow, wind and rain.
A dapper, flamboyant chapeau
to quickly dawn where ever you might go,
A fedora brandished by some handsome man
that would display his appealing stand.
A stetson for the guy from Texas
who stands tall before the rest of us.
A tam, a topper
a Panama show stopper.
Some pretty little girl in a bonnet
that inspires a Shakespearean sonnet.
Better yet, a woman's choice of millinery
to walk a fashion show off fritillary.
To church or same gandiose Easter parade
that gleams and stands above the seasonal charade.
Hats are such a blessing
when the cold requires warm protective dressing.
The prediction is for gusty winds and cold,
hats need only be warm not necessarily bold.
Take your pick
but make it quick
your nose, your face, your head
need covering, that goes unsaid.
as temperatures drop
Categories:
stetson, cool, february, wind,
Form:
Couplet