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One stormy day in Texas the sky cracked open like a cheap piñata,
Jalapeño hail lashed the bluebonnets—goodbye, pretty blooms hasta la vista!
Rain turned to spicy salsa, rivers into ice-cold Lone Star Beer.
Cowpokes huddled together, prayin’ in the cactus-flavored air.
Pa’s prize longhorns blew away, where they went he had no idea
Eventually landed in Dallas yellin', "Y'all seen my tortillas?"
Crick rose up where three armadillos was sharin' one floatie.
Were heard to ask, “Where’s our guacamole?” ¡Olé!
Sine Wave replicated the Hand whistle, a drum and
bass and tremble guitar fused with a funky mix of
in opposition tothe fella's camped further in the distance.
There a banjo and fiddle were played while a crooner
serenaded the dust clouds kicked up the drunken
cowpokes.
While the Elders sleep or were to drunk to refuse them
wise mid twentyish people grabbed instruments and
went into the barn and began to
fuse there style
with sounds that were never heard before. A member
of the orchestra used his influence to
convince these busy hard working people
to make time to get together
and create music. The way music needs to be appreciated.
Night hides the meanest of day
but moring tell the true story
if she'll go
or if she'll stay
Regional flavors
Capsicum Annuun
Hot Peppers and Milk
Pizzicato wash your hands
begore you pull
them strang's
Headdresses and Cowboy hats
Hazing a Tenderfoot
Stanza #1.
I want to be a cowboy
And see the open range.
I want to meet a cowgirl
Whose values are the same?
We'll raise some little cowpokes
And give them old folks names.
I want to meet my cowgirl
So we can ride on the range.
Oh, give me a home where majestic buffalo roam,
Where antelope graze and rushing streams foam!
A place where snow-capped mountains reach for the sky,
And gentle winds waft through blue spruce with soothing sigh!
Oh, give me a home where golden eagles soar on high;
Where skeins of geese delight my senses with their clarion cry!
A home where splendid sunrises greet me each morn,
And spectacular sunsets, The Master Artist, the sky doth adorn!
Oh, give me a home where verdant fields thrive with golden grain;
Where cowpokes herd cantankerous cattle on wide-open plain!
A place where magnificent mountain goats and sheep can be viewed,
On steep and rocky tors, content with their own, seeking solitude!
Oh, give me a home where in autumn, elk vent their plaintive blare,
Seeking to charm the feminine species to provide himself an heir!
Where glorious Columbine blossoms grow in profusion,
And golden leaves of aspen create a fairy-land-like illusion!
Unlike the hapless and adventurous Conquistador,
I've found that home and so very much more!
I've found my beautiful Eldorado,
Right here in Colorful Colorado!
the sounds of a world which once rang
with the magical rhythms of rhyme
from sheep being shorn of wool
to remedies given by the spoonful
magic lie in the ticking of clocks
nonsensical like hickory-dickory-dock
sugar coating the process of learning
lessons came with a cadenced adorning
sailors at work on their ships
sea shanties sprang from their lips
cowpokes alone on the range
clerks counting out the small change
uncrowned royalty without retinue
pouring forth all the things which they knew
beauty came with words which were said
as if laughter and precision had wed
abandon in the scramble for time
the long lost realm of rhyme
Me and my fellow buckaroos have had a real rough day.
Plumb tuckered out, we still are not ready to hit the hay.
Our bacon, the beans and biscuits have all been gobbled up.
My coffee now is growing cold inside my old tin cup.
Sitting around the fire, it feels good to just lean back.
A harmonica my friend is taking now from his "war sack."
melancholy is his tune. Two cowpokes who have guitars
are joining in with my friend Jake. I look up at the stars.
I want to liven up the scene, so I sing them my new song -
the one I wrote a month ago. The others sing along.
I love this life and being on this current cattle drive.
Not married yet, I'm saving up. At least I can survive!
It's time to get our sleep in. My bedroll's spread out. By and by,
I'll be deaming about my gal Sal beneath this starry sky!
Jan. 27, 2021
Jan. 27, 2021 for Line Gautheir's 'Cowboy Poetry' Poetry Contest
After rounding up some cattle
I headed to the saloon
To have a drink or two
And hear a bawdy tune
Cowpokes were gambling
And guzzling up their beer
The women were upstairs
Their bosoms amply filled
Waiting to give us all a thrill
After a couple shots of whiskey
A poker game I did seek
Hoping I'd soon be on a winning streak
My luck was going good and
The cowpokes I was beating
Until big Jim accused me of cheating
A fight broke out and turned into a brawl
Big Jim got hit, and took a mighty fall
When it was all over I was still standing tall....
The cattle would be rounded up tomorrow once again
And I would be right there, ridin' on the plains
1-26-2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Cookie, fire-up yer chuck wagon 'cause th' round-up is begun!
Us cowpokes is gonna cull th' herd frum dawn to th' settin' sun!
We is gonna supply you wid th' cookin's fer our chuck tonight;
Heaps uv good ol' Rocky Mountain oysters broiled fer our delight!
It'll be a hot an' dusty trail as we drive 'em frum th' chaparral,
An' herd them cantankerous kine fer brandin' in th' ol' corral!
It'll take a heap uv sweat an' a lot uv cussin' to git 'em movin', alright,
But it'll be worth it, 'cause we is feedin' on Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Usin' our cuttin' hosses we'll rope an' wrestle th' bulls to th' ground.
There we'll brand an' neuter 'em as they beller an' kick around!
We'll be bruised an' kicked fer little pay but that'll be alright,
'Cause we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Us cowboys works hard wid little pay rollin' 'round in th' manure,
Convertin' bulls into steers; that's more'n them city fellers could endure!
But that's okay, 'cause at round-up time we gits a special treat;
Tonight we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters to eat!
HE CAN OUT TALK
OUT JIVE
THINK TWICE AS FAST
AND SOMETIMES
CAUSES YOU TO ASK YOUR MOTHER
"WHAT KINDA JIVE TONE THIS CAT
IS PLAYING?"
YOU AINT GONNA OUT FOX A FOX
AND THE COUPE WILL HAVE AN OPENING
WHAT KINDA GAME IS THIS CHUMP GRITTIN WIT?
HE WORKS LIKE THE BOSS AND PLAY'S LIKE THE BOSSES SON.
HE GETS THE WORK DONE BABY!
HE GETS THE WORK DONE!
HIS CAMPAIGN TO BECOME BEST AND RECOGNIZED
CAUSE PEOPLE IN OUR FIRM AND SOME ON THE OUTSIDE
TO FIND IT THEIR BUSINESS TO HAVE SUMMA DAT!
"THEY HEARD THOSE JIVE TONES
AND CAME AH RUNNING" STANDING IN THE FACE
OF THE MAN WHO MADE THE CHALLENGE.
GET YO' COAT ON,
WE GOIN OUTSIDE!
SOMEBODY DONE SAID SOMETHING,
THAT RILED UP ALOTTA PEOPLE"
SILLY RANCHER
THE HOGS MAKE THE WEATHER
ALOT HOTTER THEN IT IS!
THE NATURE OF THIS BEAST, IS WILD, AND GOTTA TEACH THE ANIMAL HOW TO GET LOOSE, THEN WE CAN RANCH-UP THE COWPOKES, AND HAVE SOME FUN!
TELL THEM DOLL PRICKS, THEY WOMAN GET A LITTLE SWEETER WHEN THEY HAVE SOME HUNNY FROM THE DUMMY!
Riding the rails was memorable they say; in the days of the old iron horse.
Those old steam trains make a good mystery; all sorts of things could happen, while riding across the plains.
To see the land, rolling by from the window of a train, built stories that would live forever in the heart.
Deep in the old West, are legendary tales; that never fail to stir the heart.
Old cowpokes told them around the campfires; many of that Old Iron Horse.
It was in the songs they sang, all along the trail; not one was plain.
All of those many cattle drives, along the trail were fill with stories from the plains.
Tales and songs about the old West can still warm the heart.
Every cowpoke knew a story or song; a song along the trail; especially of the Old Iron Horse.
When you read a story of that Old Iron Horse; hear a song of the old plains that thrills you; sit back and feel that joy deep within your heart.
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
Round up the posse,
get ‘em vetted Oval Office ganksterized
Appoint the piggy snouts,
then send ‘em out
with metal sidearm power
Ancient oppression done got modernized,
old Egypt Memphis is new Phoenix on the rise
OK the corruption,
legalize the blind Corral mice
Roving Jezebel eyes
got sticky trigger fingers unsanitized
Presidential grifter seal approved,
publican tin badges
skimming off the top of the public trough
Bonnies & Clydes wearing white hats,
got the saddlebags holding the stolen dough
And it looks
like they done Bernie Madoff with some mo’
Treating citizens mob gankster rude;
those tax cowpokes
are waving their little flag pistols,
talking like tough leather throat fools
Every national treasure asset
is being pirate privatized
Every sniveling weasel with a lizard tongue
is getting Benedict deputized
And truth is being sold in the stables,
non-disclosure is the filly train to ride
Marshaling a high plains moral drifter
to come bail rescue innocent pleb gunslinger you
Remember, Roman toga outlaws
were duly elected judge, jury and executioner too
Our two funny limmerists are at it again
Clucking about like two mother hens
Jack's chemise is just wrong
Can't look at John's thong
Hey ya two cowpokes, when's this all going to end
Page 2
Then I heard a kind a music
And some distant clink and clatter
Some tapping on the floor
Then a burst of background chatter
Soon, the noise began to fade
I shook my head and blamed the heat
Grabbed a bottle from the bar
Then made my way back to my seat
I slouched back in that dusty chair
With my feet perched on the table
Tried to stay awake to drink
But at last, I wasn't able
It seemed that I, just closed my eyes
When suddenly I woke
The place was filled Dancehall girls
Card sharps and cowpokes
The piano seemed on fire
As the player smoked the keys
And I would be a lier
If I said I wasn't pleased
Then I saw The Singer lowered
She was hanging from the ceiling
Seated on a swing
With a voice, most appealing
With the whiskey flowing heavy
As dances filled the floor
I can't remember ever being
In a place like that before
To be continued Page 3
Well I Declare – If It Aint The Bounty Man
Well I declare! When I was young and free
I slung 2 guns from about my waste and charged a fee
And shot anything in sight that moved
As long as I got paid of course
I would shoot calories if there was a dollar in it
And lose weight in the process upon my horse
Now I’m 84 and there aint no shootin anymore
But when I was young if you heard me say
“Well I declare” the word “war” was sure to follow in that statement
“Well I declare war on everyone in this here nation!”
And yell, “What in tar nation!” at the cowpokes in the saloon
Yes sir. They’d all run and hide like rabbits and baboons
Well I declare. I can’t remember anything anymore
Who am I kidding?
I was never young. I was born 84 and ready for a war
Created on 9/02/14 for- Well I Declare- Poetry contest
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