Long Cowhide Poems
Long Cowhide Poems. Below are the most popular long Cowhide by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cowhide poems by poem length and keyword.
SAGEBRUSH RANCH
holding his small hand,
jumping up and down,
in the silver box —
a playground with mirrors
and three buttons.
people that look like us
are all around.
when the box is full
they disappear.
the ding-ding sounds
and doors part ways,
as we exit into the gallery,
where only grandma takes note
of the paintings that blur
as we hurry to the Sagebrush Ranch.
the stagecoach rocks,
horses hooves sound a steady beat,
as we watch the scenery (on a little screen)
the buckaroo protects his grandma,
with fingers cocked, ready for an impending shootout.
the checkerboard sings
as we press buttons —
the crooning of a cowboy in our ears.
we “sit a while” in the wicker rockers.
there’s a room in the ranch
with a rope-style bed, and
a treasure chest of play clothes.
the four-year old grins, as he digs,
putting on boots way too big
and a black and white faux-cowhide vest.
i help this towhead into the saddle
of a life size horse, teaching him
the little that grandma knows —
“giddyup” as he stirs the rein
and “whoa” as he leans back on his critter.
the boots oft slip, and he orders
“the princess” to pull them on again.
assisted with a dismount,
he runs to the chuck wagon to beg
a carrot from the nearby cook,
pats down the horse and urges him to eat
after the long and dusty desert ride.
the excitement as he gallops to each station,
enterprising in each task, never letting “the princess”
relax. he climbs the ladder into the loft,
and makes her ascend. they watch cowboy t.v.
at the end, they ride the stellar box, up and down
then to the cowboy store, where his cherub cheeks
blush and his eyes twinkle, with a dollar in his hand.
he pays for a lollipop in the shape of a cowboy boot.
this cowpoke falls asleep,
as the modern carriage rocks him
and grandma smiles as she wields the reins.
2/27/2019
3/4/25
"Time"
People often rat pack
Quick to have the last laugh
It's a sad fact
That we never could get past that
Time is something we can never have back
Few heed the forecast
Torches pass
Opposing forces clash
Since the prehistoric past
Waters roaring
Weather storming
Gases forming
Among all the forking paths
Time continuously soaring fast
Even before there was Pterodactyl's
Always looming in the distance like an Ant hill
Weighing heavily on the mind like an anvil
Can't fix what can kill with just an Advil
Time never at a standstill
Close by and in light years
Voices calling in my ear
It's quite clear
Why fear?
In the end we all die here
Eventually our time's near
Thank you for the nice talk
Push through when life is colder than an ice block
Don't give up, even if it's quite the shock
Something you can't just write off
That we can't fight the clock
Because never does time stop
It's not all about prize winning
Don't spend it all wine sipping
Be true instead of lying and tricking
Try swimming instead of ending it by quitting
While living
Endlessly time ticking
You don't always need night vision
Look hard to find what is quite hidden
Make the best of your life and live it
Only so much time is given
It held true, not just wrote in rhyme
Wasn't always going fine
Until I had a sober mind
Changes occurred over time
Throughout life
Always will be ups and downsides
It took awhile, but peace I found by
A cowhide below the cloud line
Where birds all around fly
Instead of trying to doubt why
Now I
Am of a sound mind
Could say it was overdue and about time
Energy and moving objects may collide
It all relates to state of mind
So don't be afraid and whine
Reach new heights then take the climb
Be strong so you can break the ice
Stay sharp as the blade of a knife
Beside the age of a tide
While you can have a whale of a time
More to life than red wine
And dead guys (money)
Hold your head high
Give it all your best try
In order to withstand the test of time
The clanking sound of spurs, the sun’s glare
off the shiny doppelganger derringers.
Her hat tipped onto her sweating brow.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests!”
Her cowhide boots kick up the prairie dust.
She’s not your quintessential grandmother.
Her torrential windpipe words ready for a fight.
“I will be number one! Like it or not!”
She spits tobacco into the air, daring a challenge,
and it drops at the feet of the biggest contest.
“Chew on that one...for a while!”
A patch over one green eye, the jealous one. She wears it
as a badge of honor. No one messes with Lady Cogburn.
Like showing off pictures of her family, she lets a scroll roll loose.
Her adjectives and verbs, nouns and sounds.
“I dare anyone to steal my verse! Who's brave enough
to roll out one of their own!”
She spits and stares them down, as one courageous chick
steps forward and just as quick she lays her low.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Now the rest of you scram!”
Dodge City, the ghost town, has one occupant. She lights her Virginia Slims, lets her poetic smoke circle the air — like vultures.
7/20/2018
Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
If I had a dying wish
Before I take my final breath
It would be to enjoy one last day of summer
And with my sons have a game of catch
The sun beating down upon us
Sweating on a sultry summer day
Standing on a patch of freshly cut grass
In the field where we used to play
The smell of cowhide leather
Unique to a baseball mitt
And the sound of the fast pitch popping
In the pocket when it hit
Just tossing the ball back and forth
Between a father and his sons
With trivial conversations
About life on all our tongues
With the girls waiting on a picnic blanket
Under the shade of a tall oak tree
And to once again see my smiling wife
Happily watching our boys and me
Yes, if I had a dying wish
Before I take my final breath
It would be to enjoy one last day of summer
And with my sons have a game of catch
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 !
An old preacher named Ned
Got it into his head
To make a musical pilgrimage
Before he was dead.
He claimed divine inspiration
To form a band and tour the nation,
And by so doing treat its ills,
Not with welfare checks and pills,
But with arpeggios and trills.
He'd spread the gospel word through music
And lead the land back to salvation.
He first made a violin
And strung it with hairs from his very own chin.
Then next came a saxophone
That he whittled right out of a billy goat's bone.
He fashioned a tambourine
From an old piece of cowhide and dyed it bright green.
Then from a small turtle shell,
He managed to carve a mouth organ, as well.
And last came an accordion
From a corset, two clothespins, and a large rubber band.
What, again, was the plan
For Brother Ned's one-man band?
He would spread the Word through music
All over the land.
His wife helped him to pack
All his stuff on his back;
A quick peck on the cheek,
He'll send a check once a week.
Then he left his abode
With his instrument load
And took his unusual act on the road.
As she waved him good-bye,
His wife heaved a huge sigh
And dabbed at the tears
That welled up in her eyes.
"Poor old fool with his boast,
He's tone-deaf as a post.
But he's set in his ways,
So I'll give it three days,
Or if someone don't hang him,
Or shoot him,
Then maybe a week and a half,
At the most."
A little bit of twist
A little bit of grin
A flip of the hair
I am proud of myself
Pictures on my bookshelf
He and I collide, kiss and a ride
His glove and baseball by the side
Hat up above truly love
I dare not give it a shove
On the stand with a cheer
A taunt and a sneer
Grin your way; ensnare was my plan
Flip my hair and pretend I’m a fan
Batter batter swing
Hammer and sting that skin
A little bit of twist
A little bit of grin
A flip of the hair
Wearing the right hat
Twist to the bat
Searching far and wide
Where’s the cowhide
Home, don’t walk ... R-U-N
One-on-one under the sun
Slide your hand down my arms
Surrender and drown in charm
Strawberry kisses champagne wine
Interlace your fingers with mine
Emotions beat while we run away
Feeling the excitement of the day
2/20/2017
Allow the cool air to affect the night opossum.
Daylight, melted snow, and fragrant blossom.
There is no drastic wailing, fierce snow, or lively hail.
Allow water to settle and watch on the lake fowl tail.
I'd want to have a gossamer of leaf distinct botanical.
To carefully forego jackets, cowhide shoes, and sparkle.
Strolls must be swept with soap suds to remove soot.
Without judging, ingest pristine, muggy air on foot.
I've prayed to God for longing and happiness.
I accepted my presence and avoid being awareness
Birds have arrived despite spring migration beginning.
I'm sitting down under some trees and staring.
Start the year by seed sowing and feeding family.
Now is the time for waking and sympathy.
Written: July 09, 2022
Been through the rocks and bottoms
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Climbing Mount Nebo, marched in Medigeo
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Tried to follow you Lord, but it's too hard
CAUSE MY SHOES DON'T FIT
When I was seven my mother took me to the shoe store
My feet where extra wide, this I tried to hide
All I needed was more cowhide
Extra width, shoes so tight that they just didn't, didn't fit
Hurts SO BAD
HELP ME LORD!!
Been through the rocks and bottoms
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Climbing Mount Nebo, marched in Medigeo
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Been through the valleys and they're low and my shoes don't fit
Walk through the muddy waters and the cold fridged snows
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
What must I do to behave
That I may be saved
Does it matter t hat my shoes don't fit
Yes they don't fit yes they won't fit
How can I walk on in heaven on those streets of gold
With hurting toes. . .
Been through the rocks and bottoms
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Climbing Mount Nebo, marched in Medigeo
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Tried to follow you Lord, but it's too hard
CAUSE MY SHOES DON'T FIT
This is making me sick I can hardly walk hardly talk cause my shoes don't fit
The devil all around me but I can barely believe he's walkin over me
I'm gonna stomp on him, I'm gonna march on him gonna tromp on him
Even tho my shoes don't fit walk on, walk on, march on and on and on
walk on
With hurting toes. . .
Been through the rocks and bottoms
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Climbing Mount Nebo, marched in Medigeo
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Making me sick I can't walk hardly talk cause my shoes don't fit
Devil still around can't believe he's walkin over me
Gonna stomp him, I'm gonna march on him gonna tromp on him
Even tho my shoes don't fit walk on, walk on, march on and on and on
walk on
With hurting toes. . .
Been through the rocks and bottoms
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
Climbing Mount Nebo, marched in Medigeo
AND MY SHOES DON'T FIT
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
June 14 2011
from Anthology " Revelations"
Tree Top Dancers
and Circus Clowns
The neighbors moved away.
They said nothing to anyone,
they just left.
New people took the home.
There was a big truck.
It was full of boxes,
and a TV.
It was jam-packed with animals...
and cages and crates,
and statutes of...
Greek women holding water vases,
Greek men with harps.
The truck itself was all blue.
Funny, even the tires.
Odd.
I watched as they unloaded other things;
a giant clock that rang...
from the time they took it from the vehicle,
until it went... inside... (hushed tones).
There was a deep freezer,
the size you could fit six grown men...in.
One on top of another...
a side; by side by side by side, by side, by side.
There was a trunk with a hunchback,
and then a hunchback with a trunk.
What can I say... they were a pair,
I had to stare.
Unfair, I looked away.
Then the mom, and the dad...
came rolling up the drive.
They were in a giant bread truck;
made of cowhide?
A dozen kids on the back,
and even a few on a rack?
A lively crew of gypsies.
Carnies, forced to retire;
from long days,
now gone.
The circus, the show,
the festival of colors;
no more...
Come to a new place,
to put on a new face,
to leave no trace,
of all that was left behind.
Yet how do you start a fresh life,
from a comfortable place you always lived,
upside down, right side up,
cheers all around,
and elephants that danced,
giraffes that sang,
and popcorn was the main course;
at dinner.
Now everyday life,
full of strife,
trying to make things right,
somewhere in the world.
The clowns still make some laugh,
at every funny gaff,
even if...
it is not in a big shoe,
or under a giant tent.
Be happy.
It is a choice.