Ranches Poems | Examples

Times Change

Dusty little towns
West of the Great Divide
Where great-grandchildren of cowboys
On ranches still reside.

Small western museums
With local antiquities inside; 
Native American artifacts, 
Some horse tack for a cowboy's ride.

There among the fancy
Are two dresses hemmed above the knee,
20's Jazz Age fashion
Worn far from the speak-easy.

Caused a bit of an uproar,
As they danced on the sawdust floor.
Who were these rebel cowgirls,
These flappers from western lore?

septemberfalls v3

septemberfalls v3

September FallS
End of sunshinE
Perhaps look uP
To try seeing iT
Every bare treE
May seem griM
Branches numB
Each leaf is freE
Reaching so faR
Furled and stifF
All in absentiA
Leaving for falL
Leaves do swirL
September FallS

My Hometown

Small, cut in half by Route Sixty-Six,
with farms and ranches scattered around.
Theaters, cafes, motels, your picks
Saturdays, everyone came to town.

What fun walking down crowded Main Street.
giving a farm boy a furtive glance.
Then movies, popcorn, something sweet
to watch Fred and Ginger glide and dance.

The tranquil aura of peacefulness,
of hometown, friends, and a picture show.
We didn't think of days that would pass
and our small town we would soon outgrow.

One day, we all left to find our dreams,
farms dried up with recurring drought.
Town forgotten in I-Forty's schemes,
the town withers within and without.

Our last reunion, old times we share,
sunshine, laughter, tears we can still find
in boarded stores, steets beyond repair
in our small hometown we left behind.

The Life of Wind

The breeze it carries many things whispered willow winds
Pollinated particles of dust where new life can begin
A breeze of leaves departing from life on dead branches
The fresh smell of all the nights in the hidden hills of ranches
Clouds and storms so violently cause chaos and destruction
To light rains of springtime norm creating a bloom production
From a kitchen window it warns of a good home cooked meal
A child's scream as the kite he holds reels, & reels, & reels
From memories that reminds you of the night of a first kiss
And soft odor of your love it just doesn't get better than this


Bmdavey@06/223

I Can Never, Never Hate You

The verb "hate" can never be
My darling, in my vocabulary
I can only love you night and day
I can only think of you all day long
I can only dream of you and long
For your presence at midday
When the bells are ringing
When the birds are singing
Gleefully on the branches
Near the sumptuous ranches
I can simply love you, my dear
Please come now, over here
Over there, much closer
Over here, much nearer.

Copyright © December 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.

Statues of Horses

Outside drives of dude ranches or of hobby farms
Cast statues of horses bred from Cortez' runaways.
They stand in basket planted ferns to camouflage their hooves,
Or rear atop a barn as though to jump into a circus pool.

More at home on green way cityscapes.
A scattered cavalry would save us from ourselves.
With piercing stares, their riders try to rally troops
To rout the rest, leave us solitary soldiers of the field.

Frontage roads and roundabouts
Out flank them and surround them.
Traffic blinded how they might retreat,
Or charge, they wait in disarray.

The only value now a century of late
Is a centaur kind of horsemanship:
One goal between an animal and man.
Graffiti by the day adds to epaulets of pigeon .

Mobs would have them roped and quartered down,
Hauled to salvage parks unseen revision of our past.
To those casting heroes into bronze, "Be discreet, 
Bronze lasts longer than human judgements do."

Javan Rhinos

Trophy Hunters eradicated lesser one-horned.
Traditional medicine was reasoned then killed.
The colonial era malignant apartheid seized.
Tragic wildlife ranches endangered.
Tremendous Javan Rhinos died.
Tied mud wallow was converted, the game started.
Trapped maggoting man heart wolfed.

Peacefulness

One of the keys to happiness is mental quietness
a perceptive covering that operates on all fellness
And shall not incite one's heart pound emptiness
Start by being enthralled, then settle into stillness
Flee out of bed. Your feathers will hasten your brashness
We went on a quixotic to the darkest areas, tasteless
The springs rate boom as it grows the sturdy femaleness
The splendor of a full moon hung in the space darkness.
Out of bloom cherries are primed for neatness.
Ranches with lovely shades and surface wetness.
Orchards of lovely colors and textures, readiness.
Divine clean lips send heavenly voice pureness.
Delightful rapt echoes of a vivacious life sweetness

Written: May 21, 2021

Sponsored by: Brian Strand
ALL YOURS (Jun 12) Poetry Contest

Escape From Chestnut's Edge

The split level blinks
	at Chestnut End under 
	twilight's tremble, ripping me, 
	the oily menhaden bait,
	from the under boot

The Chestnut dwellers bold
interrogative flushes him down 
then plunges-up the flotsam 
village scrawler

	the way you talk
	to a blooming night blooming
	to a blow-fish blown unsuspecting
	of the scuttle, skating the wake away

The insomniacs billow from
their raged ranches, wisely, 
and after supper, tumbling 
the trickster tumbledowning 
the scrawler, the baitster 
dip-fished in his own inkwell.

	Ripped and chipped 
	in my underbrush
	I hunker down loading
	the mossy mossbunkers 
	inside my spitball.
	Kicking, winding up
	tumbling down madly aiming
	for the ramshackle fence,
	escaping once again

in my handsome
lederhosen.

Maze

Traipsing along on old dirt paths
Struggling to avoid garden wraths
Within the maze of sinuous limbs
Whispering like soft, gentle hymns

Twisting, turning, yearning for love
Lost amid blush roses sent from above
A puzzle of joys in the green branches
Covering the heart of heavenly ranches

Homespun joys sing from the bushes
Brilliant, bold colors of crimson pushes
Touching my spirit with tendrils of leaves
Caressing a wall of blooms that relieves

Trapped by the swaying of euphoric breezes
Softly enfolding my heart’s hope so it pleases




Maze - 10 Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: A Dear Heart
June 22, 2020

Seeds To Tree

At the start seeds with no half chances 
a trunk then breeds leaves and branches
stuck still rooted a disadvantage 

The trunk stands 
and branches expand 
leaves grow grand 
across countryside land 

all angles from farms to ranches 
this tree gets above speedy little glances
Wide and high gaining vantage 
a tree from the seeds bitty been planted

You saw those seeds their chance and giggled 
now a tree making you look little 
you saw a plant pot but not potential 
seems silly now as the tree stands tall

Igniting My Memories

Autumn leaves make the crisp air
Uncommonly warm and bright;
Theater for the eyes.
Undertones of red, orange, yellow, and green;
My mind returns to discovery days in Sawtooth forests or Sierra
Nevada meadows where sheep roam from high country to Nevada ranches.
Lively mountain climbs to lakes of glass
Encircled with aspens, willows, cottonwoods, and pine.
Awash in a painter's brush of
Vesicles; small splatters of autumnal colors.
Electrically igniting my memories
Scattered from childhood to adult.

Grand Junction, Co 12-3-18

. for public domain

We are well into December,
each birdbath crests a mound of snow,
new flakes creep down Winter's sky.
I draw a slow breath. The air bites cold.

Security lights illuminate
the lawn trees white crusted bare branches,
alleyways are free of traffic,
no steps lead to vagrant ranches.

On this three AM Monday morning,
time passes peaceful and fair.
Birds and transients will pipe with dawn,
enduring a cold day to bare.

The Last Season

The sun was sinking low and so was my spirit 
I kept looking and listening but could not hear it
The wind was blowing west l cared the very least
I sat in the stand thinking of a great beast
It was cold and and windy my neck stayed rigid
I wanted to go inside but chose to stay frigid
With the snap of a twig and the moving of branches
Came a biggest bull elk I'd seen on my ranches
He had a huge rack with numerous tines
I silently counted all twenty nine
A non typical elk like I'd never seen
My blood ran hot my senses became keen
I raised my old bow so many arrows launched true
I pulled back once more launched a shaft right through

Mission San Luis Rey De Francia

California's riches mission.
White brick structures simply glisten.
Great spread ranches, nice addition.
Wine and cattle.
Peacful life with no bad friction.
Reins and saddle.

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