Best Wild West Poems

Back in time,
in the wild, wild west,
a person had to stand,
to a face to face test.

If someone robbed you,
or stole your horse,
then to the street,
settled out of court.

Whomever drew first,
whether standing or not,
the people would scream,
he deserved what he got.

The sheriff held order,
in his little town,
and if one didn't obey,
he would lock them down.

Breaking in...

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Road work had been finished
for the winter on an asphalt strip
north of town near a nature preserve.
I said good-bye to the hotel owner
and he invited me back
although the town was a lifetime away
from my home. We shook hands.
The town wore its history well
with a façade of an old west town
complete with a jail and post...

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Back in the days, when men bold,
spun golden legends;
of exploits in the wild west;
of punch-in and herd-in cows
and saloon brawls where they’d shoot
and scores of bullets roared.

Stories of the Iron Horse’s roar
and gunfighters and marshals, bold;
Of gamblers, who’d go shooting
for the stars in cards; those were feats of legend.
Days when plains of cows,
fur-painted the landscape...

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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...

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Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West....

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Hawaii’s coffee is Kona
Mexico’s beer is Corona
But Tucson loves Stock
And now owns a used Glock
For the gun culture of Arizona     

Author's note:  News flash--Glocks are now flying off the shelves in Arizona....

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One night I dreamed I wandered, weary in a desert
until a clear blue water lake emerged ahead
midst the new pine landscape of my dream.
Four specks far away, approaching. . .
soon turned into four strong ranchers wearing big brim cowboy hats.
My memory was stirred in tune with an upbeat melody.
And suddenly I knew just who they...

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All dusty and dirty with the sand on the teeth,
All day in the saddle and I'm always in the business,
Colt me - as a father, as a bullet - as a mother,
From birth I was taught to kill.

For the money is ready for any job
Fishing, killing a raccoon
Build a dam, to get dynamite,
Thief to catch,...

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Eighteen hundred and three begins U.S. destinies.
Merriwether Lewis and his comrade, William Clark, agrees –
They will go forth, avoid Frenchmen, fighting growling grizzlies.
To find a water trade route that flows west to the Pacific seas.
Louis and Clark, embarked, sparked, as told in fabled stories.
They recorded river routes, brought reality to theories.
Studied plants and animals; documented...

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Translation with commentary of an archetypal Wild West Classic : " Summer Wine "

(I'd wage my bottom diamond dime future generations will re-discover and treasure this true American classic like only a few others of its kind taken from the sixties. It may have only peaked at #49 in '67 when Nancy Sinatra's " These...

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Annie Oakely: The Poem by Shane Nielsen
Deep in the Ohio woods, to brown eyes aspy,
The wondrous echoes of nature give their humble reply,
to the spirit of sight, and the will to try.
Billows of smoke from fires who do not cease to prier,
ventured the aptly named Little Miss Sharpshooter,
the stakes couldn't be higher.
To feed the sick...

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I
am
of the
opinion
that most 
of the trouble
that happened in
the Wild West could
have been avoided if 
the architects had made 
the towns just slightly bigger....

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A cowboy’s life’s not easy,
as he rides across the range.
His bed roll on the saddle; 
his spurs, they bang and clang.
A campfire is his cook stove;
the stars above, his map.

A star of the old roundup,
he has to move his cows along.
He won’t be fired from any job;
he’ll ride the long, long path.
Spurred along with thoughts...

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He was old and haggard, in the year nineteen twenty something
A tall lanky old man, with a worn out hat and a rusty ring
His squint blues eyes pulled together the wrinkles upon his face
With an expressionless gaze, that told of another time and place	

Half the day he sat in his front porch rocking in his...

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If it’s possible to close my eyes
 Then by clicking my heels
I could go back in time anywhere
The Wild West, that’s my deal

Back in time to the gun slinging days
A big iron on my hip
The beer so cheap it’s almost free
A nickel’s a big tip

I want to ride a horse named Sugar
Meet old Buffalo Bill
Walk...

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