Long Cowboy up Poems
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The little boy threw down his hat
And marched right from the room—
The TV on with nightly news
Of murder, muggings and doom.
The grandpa called out to the hall,
“What’s the matter lil’ pard?
Come back in here and cowboy up,
Don’t be takin’ life so hard!”
The kid slunk back into the room,
This grandson they named Roy,
And with disgust and mistrust said,
“Don’t call me no cowboy!”
“I reckon that you’re right upset,”
His granddad did allow,
“Pick up your brand new cowboy hat
And let’s walk to the corral.”
Then as they leaned on that old fence
That seldom now was used,
The old cowpoke now listened to
His grandson vent his blues:
“I keep hearin’ on the TV,”
Slowly spewed the little lad,
“How some wild folks are just “cowboys”
And ain’t nothin’ but pure bad.
“They even called our president
A cowboy behind his back—
Like it was something terrible
Or something that he did lack.”
The granddad stroked his long mustache,
Then told that boy what’s so—
“Son, bein’ a cowboy’s a good thing
And don’t let them tell you no.
“We’re keepers of a heritage
That started in the Old West
With good God-fearin’ settlers
That worked hard and gave their best.
“But like all folks, creeds and races,
There’s the bad and the good—
It just takes some figurin’ out
To see where most folks stood.
“There’s always them that question us
Because we don’t seem real
And try to hoe an honest path
And plant instead of steal.
“A cowboy’s handshake is his word—
He’ll risk his life for what’s right--
He loves his country, that’s for sure
And defend her with his might!
“Some may think that he’s just too brash
And too quick with his gun—
He don’t ride life’s ol’ middle road—
He does what needs to be done!
“The cowboy helped build this country—
In that we can be proud—
Tell ‘em you’ll always be a cowboy
And tell ‘em good and loud!”
The little boy looked up relieved
And donned his cowboy hat—
“I’m sure proud to be a cowboy!”
And that was the end of that.
Out on the range and hunkered down
Been out here for a week
The morning cold the range is brown
Mist rising from the creek
A deep roaring sound behind me
I spin around in fear
What I see does astound me
How is a spaceship sitting here
Door open and inviting
I feel the need to take a look
I find it quite exciting
It has got me on the hook
Standing in the open door
He is beckoning to me
More regal one I never saw
Or ever will I see
A pinch to check if dreaming
I did not feel a thing
But the river is still steaming
It has got me on a string
Walk over and go through the door
It is like another world
Pearl white walls a golden floor
And curtains all unfurled
A cowboy sitting on a chair
At last I feel at home
But looking least like anything
Out on the range I roam
His Stetson more a halo
On his back there could be wings
My body turns to jello
As I realise some things
Relax and sit there just be calm
We need to check you out
We will be quick and do no harm
Of that there is no doubt
Alien to you may be
We are from another place
Out there in the stars you see
From deep outer space
We will make a small quick test
Now don't be so aghast
Then compare it with the rest
We have taken in the past
To see the changes that you've made
In progress or recession
For years now has been retrograde
That has been our impression
So cowboy up as cowboys do
We will soon be on our way
You will be as we found you
With no inkling of today
Mist dispersing with the sun
I sit there feeling strange
Out here where the cattle run
The wide and open range
Get to my feet and saddle up
I have much work to do
Why do I feel so shaken up
I don't have a single clue
Credit Frimufilms / Freepik for partial image
Freedom,
Written: by Tom Wright
1/24/03
The first draft
had it's inauguration at Calvary.
Jesus, being classified 4-A,
shed His blood to make men free.
He didn't die because he wanted to,
but realized, the situation required a sacrifice.
Since that time, when freedom has been tested,
good men have come forth and paid the price.
The payment required, always the same, blood.
Veterans don't make this sacrifice
for the sake of being called heroes.
Some things are done because they're right.
Your Country calls, and you gallantly answer the call.
I wonder, in the spoiled generation which now exists,
if the call goes out, will few, or any, answer?
Attitudes today, seem to be, not my generation,
let someone else do it, as they exercise their right to protest.
They seem content to live as parasites, on the bodies of the fallen.
What if, in the beginning,
Jesus, had chosen a deferment, burned his draft card, ran,
or marched in protest, saying let someone else do it?
We would have no hope.
I leave you with this thought,
A Freedom Not Worth Fighting For,
Is A Freedom Not Worth Having.
Real men cowboy up.
I was never the reason
to this scene I was late
and yes, my name will probably come up
but you better clear the slate
it's been coming for sometime
only a fool couldn't see
it will hurt for a little while
but you can't blame this on me
the dust you thought was settled
is once again about to stir
as you step from the shadows
they will use every word
it's gonna be a long monsoon
with plenty of thunder and lightning
the likes of which you've never seen
the depths of it will be frightening
all the balls up in the air
quickly, they will unwind
conversations from long ago
will creep into your mind
it's not like I didn't tell you
or not like you didn't know
that freedom has a very high price
as you take it blow by blow
a minor inconvenience
on the road of past deceptions
this trail you started on your own
has bumps and misconceptions
so cowboy up and place the truth
right where it needs to be
it will hurt for a little while
but don't put this blame on me
With the challenge of writing a poem in the now
I reach for my pen, a lightning quick draw
Gun slinging the page with a six shooter of words
Letters ricocheting off of the page, escaping the poems claw
Defeating all who dare to challenge my ink shooter
Walking tall in Poetry soup's Wild West
Poets work, slinging words left and right
We enter contest, to conquer and be the best
Today I'll spur the paper with cowboy up
Put my words down with the quickness
Winning the buckle of Glory
Riding this bull named "dirty business"
I'm riding off into the sunset another notch in my belt
The legend of the "Word Slinger" has begun
Conquering all from the east to the west
Riding in glory, clearing the dust second to none
------------------------------------------------------------------
Inspired by Matt caliri contest - Write now-
took me 30 minutes to write and type 8-19-09 had lots of fun!!!!!!!!!!
purely fictional :-)
A COWBOYS TEARS.
A cowboys hat is worn with pride his buckle with pride.
Took a big wall of blood sweat an pain to get this far
Pain from a broken ride long forgotten but fresh in his mind
And the tears he cries for the one he left behind
The lonely road he travels alone chasing the dream and competing to be rodeos number one.
Rodeos of glory an hardship were tuff is the only way
Friends an fans respecting god an asking for safety
When he prays for the ride he makes tonight it could
Make or break him it's all on the line dreams as a child
Of being a cowboy all rest on his shoulders .
His spirt thrives for the rush of the ride never willing to stop
Wanting to go to the finals an see his name on top hang on
Tight an make the ride cowboy up just like your hero lane frost.
Sincerely Tim kegley
We walk the streets after dark
We bow to our opponents at the gate to the park
We are the unknown faces of the street
The deadliest crew you'll ever meet
Our challengers yield in cowardice as we enter in a ring of fire
To finally defeat us is their one desire
Its simply a battle of territory and infinite game
We represent with ink, scars, and not an ounce of shame
This is our hood
For these newbies it doesn't look good
Frost bitten and slippin' on snow covered ice
We don't care 'cuz they've done tried us twice
Cowboy up and join the rodeo
Can't earn your patch by just watchin' the show
With the fire of fury we shall rise once again
Not even winter's black ice shall do us in
We came to win just one more fight
We'll leave here in victory tonight