Long Cowboys Poems
Long Cowboys Poems. Below are the most popular long Cowboys by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cowboys poems by poem length and keyword.
I heard tell some folks think cowboys built the West.
The only thing I know for sure is I always did my best
to give a man a good days work for an honest wage
ridin' among tumbleweeds and dried brush of sage.
I wear a Colt 45 to scare off rustlers and killin' snakes
and I don't play cutthroat poker with tinhorns or rakes.
It ain't never been an easy job, the life of a ranch hand,
herdin' cattle near the flowin waters of the Rio Grande,
but it's the only way I always wanted to spend my days,
beddin' down under the stars, watching the herd graze.
I'm keepin' one eye open for those wanderin' lil dogies,
chewin' on the end of what's left of smokin' my stogies.
I lassoed a proud stallion, and gentled that big paint.
He's been a good trail horse, so I got no complaint.
I was in love with a rodeo gal, a pretty lil' barrel rider
but she told me a cowboy wouldn't be a good provider.
So I strum my guitar, singing a lonesome cowboy song
about findin' a good woman who won't do me wrong.
One day I'll be an old cowpoke, lying up on that hill,
but not 'til my last roundup, and my body's had its fill
of ridin' the range, mendin' fences, ropin' mustangs,
and eatin' chuck wagon beans when the bell clangs.
I've been thrown off a bad bronc, name of Buckin' Jet,
but don't put my name on that tombstone; not just yet.
January 26, 2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.
West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.
Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.
In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.
Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?
Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.
In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.
"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.
written 17/09/2014
contest: Cowboys in the Badlands
sponsor Isaiah
Two cowpokes stagger to the saloon
Fighting because thems fighting words
Over a red parrot blocking their path
Pacing arrogantly before the bar entrance
Flapping green wings and screeching
The two men eventually find their way in
Order up a bottle of whiskey
Drink it down quickly and ask for another
Both argue a matter dramatically clear
Articulate philosophical words from the whiskey and beer
One says the feathery creature outside is a bird
The other says its a parrot
B-I-R-D I says! says Jack, with a black patch over an eye
PARROT! Screams back Sam because Sam's the man
Judge Johnson interrupted the hombres
Disturbed from his corner and sleep
Lifting himself and his beard, heavy from drinking
Figuring to intervene
Jack screams at Sam, you're as dumb as a sack of dirt
That thing, that BIRD outside has wings not fur
It has a beak and eats seeds too you goof
Sam yells back, That species is parrot you idiot!
Judge Jonson jumps in, “It does not matter.”
Then he collapsed. Table crashed…. The end one…. so that's that
Jack and Sam step outside with drawn pistols
One of them says one more time, “BIRD!” “You *****!”
The other replies, “PARROT!” “You bastard!”
They both gunned down the bird. No surprise
And went back to drinking inside
Being they was best buddies and all
The parrot or bird ended up there at the top
On the hill in the cemetery in lots a pieces
May it rest in peace
With a tombstone above its head
The epitaph read;
Here lies the dead bird Polly. It was a parrot.
Had a terrible speech impediment
It screeched and met its doom
If it knew something about sobriety
If it could have quacked or chirped quietly
Stayed clear of bar flies and saloons
Who knows
But Bye bye birdie good-bye
He was a fancy farm rooster always
prunin’ and preenin' his feathers for show
But man could that rooster wake up the dead
when he puffed his chest and let out a crow
He was the king of the barnyard for sure
struttin’ around just like he owned the place
Any time a critter would get too close
Barney would go after them in a chase
He'd peck at the legs of the big critters
poke the small ones right on top of the head
If' a young rooster try to challenge him
them long spurs of his just might leave them dead
All them hens would go scratchin’ and cacklin’
as they went sashaying about the farm
Each hen knew as did the animals too
with Barney there they won’t come to no harm
One morning my wife was gathering eggs
I heard a ruckus I couldn't believe
Barney was chasing my wife cross the yard
was the funniest thing I'd ever see'd
Old Barney was a mighty good rooster
none better for taking care of the coup
But I do have to tell you all something
Barney made a mighty fine chicken soup
Let that be a lesson to you cowboys
you might think that you're a running the land
But step out of line and you're gonna find
who's really holding the reigns in their hand
I used to wear a white cowboy's hat,
but here in New York folks gave me funny looks for my choice.
" You must have a real cowboy's grit!"
" Go down Texas and learn that accent with a high-pitched voice!"
" Were they really so insensitive to insult my intelligence?"
Stubborn as I was, their comments fell on my deaf ear,
and as they got closer...I greeted them as a true gentleman would;
oh, they showed no sympathy through a gaze of fear!
" Did I resemble an outlaw or appeared to them too shady and cold?"
" Did they redicule me for wearing a cowboy's hat that was too broad?
" Non sense!" I said with a tone of a rebel wanting to start a fight...
"Cowboys have always been my favorite heroes of the Wild West!"
" Who dared to say to William Picket or Charles Goonight...
that their hats were too wide to suggest an imminent threat?"
"Keep your mouth shut, don't look if you don't like my hat!"
He pulls his hat down low against the chill of the storm,
The numb fingers that hold the reins forgot what it was like to be warm;
On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun,
Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son;
The blowing snow and freezing rain steal his breath away,
But he knows that being a cowboy, it's worth the price that you pay;
A majestic, bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze,
With arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease!
A worn out calf is stretched across his lap on either side,
Her head resting on his thigh just going along for the ride;
He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation,
And for the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration;
Her momma just like him had been caught out in the gale,
It's just another story to add to the cowboy's tale;
He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow,
That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo;
His face is hard and beaten from too many days in the sun,
From early mornings and late nights workin' til a job is done;
A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land,
The broken treaties and those who dealt with deceitful hand;
But being a working cowboy surely has its rewards,
Riding forgotten country that has never been explored.
With a sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away,
Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will not stray.
By Tirzah Conway and Bob Hinshaw
The cowboy portion was written by Tirzah Conway and the Indian
portion by Bob Hinshaw
Tan leather boots with fancy stitching
Butterscotch vest with pencilled fringe
Polished black Stetson size eight and three quarters
Faded denim shirt with copper snaps
Silver oversized belt buckle that shouts rodeo
Deep gravelly voice with cigar precision
A pronounced limp unnoticed for years
Shoulder soreness no longer felt
Calloused hands scruffy with purpose
Symmetrical Unadorned hatband
Chiseled well mapped chin
Blue eyes faded by hundreds of suns
Hawkish nose with brownish patch
Saturday night cowboys stare in awe
Trying so hard to look the part
He wears with ease, unaware
He is being studied, real cowboy
Doing his own stuff, no agenda
Unconsciously perfect
In his maleness
A crush I think not.
Lust me all you want.
One Sunday morning, I got a phone call.
the Kidster parent were going out as I recall.
A babysitter was in need .
I said no, but they started to beg.
Okay! I will be there at eight.
Instead I got there at six..
With my early arrival, the punk ran to open the gate.
Looking at me with his puppy eyes.
His parents head out to their date.
The first thing I did is send him to wash his hands.
Knowing he has a tendency to mast**bate.
Especially when I am around him.
I feel so sorry for the kid.
He plays cowboys and Indians all alone.
I call him the, Kidster do to his own insanity doom.
Poor boy has, Billy the kid posters all over his room.
I send him off to bed, he asked if I can tuck him in .
I replied with a "No!" He looked at me and started to cry.
The, Kidster ran up in to his room.
One hour later I hear my name "P.D.-P.D, marry me!!"
I open the door the bugger was at it again.
Playing with little wil*y under the sheets.
Laughing to the fact Will-I-am has the perfect name
.
His parent arrive, they give me a hundred dollar bill.
I told them, Billys at it again,
They said thanks P.D. no one dares come around .
Our Kido gets obsessed with every one in town
Maybe he'll grow out of it as soon as he stops wetting his bed
Until than we wonder if he's in to men.
He keeps dreaming of getting slammed all over and over again
This is no slam do not be alarmed Kid. I can write cute to.
By now you should know I am your favorite fan..P.D.
A cowboy like a glacier sat
Upon the foothills. And just like that
The climate changed from hope
To glad. Melt water eroded the grassy slope.
No bridge to cross. The swift stream glistened
Brightly under the midday sun. To spend
Another night camped stream-side would be too much.
So the saddle-proud horseman with artfully deft touch
Approached and broached the brisk water.
From yonder side he sauntered
until the trail emerged. Toward town
he traveled and at sundown arrived.
To bathe with soap upon the skin,
With water warm and a glass of gin
Made cold with glacial ice, is a nice
Experience to have. And then roll the dice
Into the saloon and pollute the soul
With games of chance. Such a toll
Does pleasure take upon the Puritan
[for those believers, anyway]. A ban
Would ameliorate such disgrace, if self-imposed.
Unfettered cowboys are never so disposed.
Saturday afternoon with a few moments to kill
Took a ride by the park up on Dutch Hill
My mind went back to a time and place
When I wore a little boy’s smile on my face
So much had changed since those innocent days
I drifted back through the years where a child plays
I played in the sandbox and rode the swing
Climbed the monkey bars in the Early Spring
I remembered church picnics and being there after dark
Playing cowboys and Indians with my friends in the park
We rode the sliding board and climbed in the trees
Spraining our ankles and skinning our knees
Sometimes we gazed at the stars while we lied on the ground
Or tried to see how fast we could push the merry go round
We learned from each other as we grew up back then
And drifted apart as we became women and men
We played from sun up until it was dark
The best years of our lives were spent at the park