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Best Poems Written by Harold Miller

Below are the all-time best Harold Miller poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Harold Miller Poem

A Gunfighters Fate

Some folks feel like Jesse James got a raw deal,
just because he had an affinity and liked to rob and kill.
His ended up a tragic story I reluctantly have to relate;
He trusted one of his gang and suffered a gunfighter’s fate.

Jesse was shot in the back by one of his friends Robert Ford,
giving credence to the saying about living and dying by the sword.
Mr. Ford duly received a fatal shotgun blast up in Colorado State
And likewise he also suffered a gunfighter’s fate.

 Billy The Kid was a killer who lived a life of crime,
he was shot by Pat Garrett who was his friend at one time 
Then Pat himself was gunned down at a later date.
So eventually he too suffered a gunfighter’s fate.

 Outlaws who lived by the gun, reaped just what they sowed.
It was their choice to live and die by the gunfighter’s code.
Most of them had no desire to make any effort to go straight
So sooner or later they all suffered a gunfighter’s fate.

 Even to survive was a curse, because as the killers grew older.
They spent a lot of time nervously looking back over their shoulder.
Some would even move away to escape the life they learned to hate,
But they were usually recognized and suffered a gunfighter’s fate.

So when a person chose to ride down the lawless outlaw trail
They usually ended hanging from a rope or spending their life in jail.
 A lot of them made bad choices and ended up being buzzard bait,
because it was in their destiny to suffer a gunfighter’s fate.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

Mustang Band

Up in the pinion covered highlands,
I came upon a wild horse band. 
I counted six rangy horses, grazing there,
including the Stallion and the lead mare.

It was truly a range cowboy's delight.
there were four bays, a roan and one mostly white.
The  muscled stallion stood watchful up on a rise,
and followed my every move with his eyes.

Then the stallion somehow signaled the lead mare,
in a language only wild horses can share.
She led her charges up a winding trail,
and her movement broke my hypnotic spell.

I admired their surefootedness and their survival skills,
as they quickly ascended the rocky hills.
The Stallion was last, bringing up the rear,
It was self preservation, not nervous fear.

it was awe inspiring as I watched them flee,
but a melancholy wistfulness came over me.
The Mustang, like the cowboy,symbol of the west,
drifted into the sunset, and went over the crest.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

Try and Stop Em

Try and Stop Em
Harold Roy Miller

The longhorns were getting hard to hold
as the thunderstorm came in fast and cold.
The dark black clouds were starting to hover
as the fretful steers made a sweep for cover.

The herd had started to drift asunder,
courtesy of the loud, clapping thunder.
The wailing wind sent up a deafening cry
as lightning streaked across the darkening sky.

The daring cowhand out riding lead
was trying to prevent a potential stampede.
The clashing horns validated his fears
as he tried to mill the leader steers.

Each pointer worked to keep the herd on course
with the expert help of his trusty horse.
And the panicked drovers who were riding swing
sent gunshots skyward  with a ping.

But the struggling crew worked in vain
as the beeves took flight across the plain.
The lightning cracked, the thunder boomed;
any fallen horse or rider  was doomed.

The buckaroos rode at breakneck speed
to escape the explosive, bawling stampede.
To the four winds the herd was scattered.
But life preservation was all that mattered.

It was a vivid, graphic scene
as I stared at the television screen.
Not wanting to see how many ended up dead,
I turned off the TV and went to bed.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

Diamonds and Horses

Listen up, all you buckaroo Cassanovas and would be Romeos.
Let me tell you a secret not every cowboy knows.
To win a lady’s heart, you must always endeavor
to show her that you 'll love her and will cherish her forever.

 Now you can fix broken things to show her how you’re handy
or bring her a dozen roses and expensive boxes of candy.
You can take her to dinner and try to be witty and clever,
but there’s a quicker, better way to win her heart forever.

Just buy the lady a horse because women love equines,
and a big fancy diamond ring that sparkles and shines.
This will create a bond she’ll not soon wish to sever,
cuz in a woman’s heart, horses and diamonds are forever.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

For the Horses Sake

We could never get a divorce;
we couldn’t decide who gets which horse.
It’s hard enough to lose your spouse,
split the furniture and sell the house.
If I lost my little gelding or mare,
it’d be an agony I could not bear.
Because of the enormity of the loss,
I would surely hit the sauce.
So we will avoid a divorce mistake
and stay together, for the horses’ sake.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

Horse Dream

All my life, from day one it seems,
owning a horse has consumed my dreams.
I was intrigued with horses right from the start 
and the four-hoofed critters captured my heart.

I would wear a little western hat of felt 
and two cap pistols on my plastic gun belt.
Then I’d straddle a stick from our pile of wood 
and ride that “horse” around the neighborhood.

Later on, when I was a grade school tyke,
I’d visualize a horse when I rode my bike.
I’d pretend I was taking a horseback ride 
as I pedaled across the desert countryside.

This dream didn’t stop even in high school,
for I was still a horse-loving fool.
I lived in town and hung out with the cool gang 
but the car I drove was a Ford Mustang.

For years I labored in the city grind, 
but horses always lingered in the back of my mind.
Finally I decided to pursue my own course 
and went out and bought myself a real live horse.

I kept my equine dream alive 
and my one little horse soon became five.
It’s incredible how much money I spend 
but I don’t want my horse dream to ever end.

Details | Harold Miller Poem

Carousel

Whenever I see a horse decked out in fancy tack
or going round in circles, it always takes me back
to a part of my childhood I remember so well -
riding the carnival’s calliope carousel.

We’d purchase the tickets and the minutes we would count
until that gate opened and we’d race for our own mount.
The horses were all decorated in brightly colored array
and my favorite was a jumping horse, a big dappled grey.

It was exhilarating fun to sit on that equine toy.
I’d fantasize about me being a rootin’ tootin’ cowboy.  
I loved the happy music as the racing horses spun
and I hated to dismount when the carousel was done.

Some kids would only ride for five minutes or so,
then they would lose interest and off they would go.
But I wouldn’t leave until they finally shut it down.
It was a circle of happiness, that wonderful merry-go- round