Western Poems | Examples of Western Poetry

Soon be a beautiful brown color For naturally brown lover....

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He rides beneath a sky of burning light, A shadow stretching wide across the plain. His boots are weathered, his hands are stiff with dust, Yet in his eyes, the calm of open land. The cactus stands vast, hard and still— Green scars that mark the path he must make. Each choice he’s made, each trail he’s had to make Leaves dried...

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The fog sits heavy on broken ground, Snow lays light where the stubble’s browned. No sun, just hush and hoofbeat slow, And breath that drifts like chimney smoke. The cows stand scattered, heads hung low, Dark shapes caught in a pale gray glow. I ride out quiet, don’t make a sound... They know this hat, this horse, this ground. A calf’s come early,...

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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-easys. Caused a bit of an uproar, As they danced on the sawdust floor. Who...

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The wind knows the rider before the horse does. Long before sunup, boots scuff barnwood and the rawhide creaks with memory. A buckaroo doesn’t announce himself… he just is. A silhouette stitched into the mesa’s edge, hat pulled low not in mystery, but in reverence. Out here, to be known is not to be seen,...

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Sun down in Death Valley The memory of white branded heat Falls away so fast Dissolving in flashes of sagebrush shadows The long flat bands of sand Submerged in desert darkness, the sky A wall of impassive indigo The moon a ghost, ancient When the sun was young To walk this vast Wind pricked emptiness Is to feel the grim beauty of nature As our dust parched...

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I bought me a horse from a feller named Clyde, said, "She’s gentle and sweet, just a joy for to ride." Well, "Maybe" she was, and maybe she weren't-- the first thing she did was dump me in dirt. I saddled up hopeful, boots shiny and proud, "Maybe" just yawned and sat down on the ground. I pulled, and I pushed,...

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Out where the cottonwoods lean on the breeze, and rivers carve songs through the sage, a lone rider hums to the hush of the trees, an echo of some other age. His boots wear the dust of a thousand trails, his hat wears the weight of the sun, but his heart still believes in wide-open tales, and dreams in the key of...

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...For two weeks Lester worked that pyrite vein, and every day a brand new dollar came, at the end he hug dug out two cart’s worth, said Higgs, “Now that’s enough work in the earth.” He smiled proud, they dragged it to the trains, Lester still sure the old man was insane, once loaded up, he said, “I will return in six...

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Lester sat in Lisa’s café that morn, his eyes mindlessly staring out the door, it was July of 1889, and new work young Lester now had to find. He’d left Jud’s ranch when he refused to pay, did some small jobs, but not much came his way, had heard some mines were opening up here, but he might starve before they did,...

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POTD 24TH April 2025 In acknowledgement to Michael Tor for the invitation to collaborate and create a music video on this heart rendering ballad of the Lonesome Whippoorwill. Thank you for the opportunity Michael, it was indeed an honor. This is a shortened version to fit the video. “The Lonesome Whippoorwill” is a heart-stirring ballad of...

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hip hop grief no code enforcement, she loud inside the outs of krogers calling in her blame,, ,5,0, silent trooper, undered the statey husband codes like adam smith gettin babs seat Momentum on the Streets p=mv profit=momentum*volume “How much do you get?” “What’s the pay….. What’s the pay off he said Not speculating today Feels great This location is inside of you Sugar bored and wont...

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I had to discourage the love of Mary Lou My pals advised me what to do Just insult her the Texas way She'll set you free and go away. But Mary Lou heard on the grapevine of my plan, so decided down the road she could kick the can I told her that I'd rather cuddle a hornet than...

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Agnes Sampson there you say, As frightened even now as to the strong wind is to a blade of Hay, But we forget what made her the same, And what gave the evil fairy Maleficent-her name! We may accuse Esmeralda of witchcraft- Just because she loved Phoebus, But we forget that we too can fall like her from the raft, And then-...

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I rode into town with the sun sinking low, I thought "it's too quiet, somehow they know" I wrote his name on the bullet, loaded it into the gun He had taken my farm and shot my dear son. I walked in the saloon, I said "find me Maclay!" The bartender whispered, "Boy, best walk...

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