Cowboy poetry?

[traks44]

Just wondering if any of you like to write poetry. I enjoy what I personally call "cowboy" poetry. I have never actually been to a cowboy reading or what not but when I am out workin or hunting and I get bored I try and think of new versus. Actually what I call poem some might call a bunch of words. Anywho here is a few I have wrote....I would love to see what some of you others guys or gals write

"The Cowgirl"

She will come and go with the praire wind
She will leave you smiling when its really quite grim

She knows no boundaries to life or her ways
She can tie hard and fast on the best of her days

She rides with black curly hair to her back
She has most of it hidden under her ol'ringed lined hat

She is a cowboy until the day she dies
She wont ever be judged or idolized

She has lived a life they call the coyboy way
She will ride dawn till dusk until her final day

"8 seconds"

8 seconds is all you have
To make the world believe you are the man

The chute flys open and the dust goes amid
Dangerous some call it, I just smile and grin

8 seconds is the most dangerous game going
Some make a living while I just try to keep going

"Fall weanin"

Gathered in the corner surrounded by foes
some black, some red not wantin to go

Two cowboys aboard their colts askin nicely
sortin all the young ones can be kinda dicey

Holdin the ol'ones and babies for truckin
Weanin day for CO-, its always soemthin

"Collies"

A streak across the field is a given sign
Workin dogs are on the mind
In and out amongst the rocks and rye
Workin dogs they vow till the day they die
They work hard all day long
but you will never see one sit for long

For the collie amongst cowboys they do have a place
amongst the hardest working ranchers they cannot be replaced
We are all cowboys at heart under this big western sun
but cowboying without a collie sure aint much fun


Welp those are just a few of some I have wrote that I have handy.
I would love to read if some of you do some writing.

[duckboy]

That collie one is a.o.k!


Guess I aspire to be a writer/poet,
and have at times kicked up a covey of words
that flew up as a line of lyric,
from the brush patches along the fencrows in my mind.

[Mad Mikey]

It's funny this topic came up today. Just a few days ago my 11 year old nephew sent me his final copy, assignment "Cowboy Poetry".

It just cracked me up, I don't know how he gets this stuff. He and/or his parents don't hunt, own guns, or strip mine stuff.

I think the kid has a warped sense of humor like myself. I was fine until I got to the part about the coyote and just busted a gut. Dang, he needs an honorary NEO junior redneck badge for that line!

Enjoy...


Strip Mining


Weeeeeeeeeellllll,
I wake up early in the mornin'
Make ma' coffee
N' make ma' tea

Theeeeeeennn,
I put on ma' work clothes
Grab ma' pickaxe
And head off to gooooooooo . . . . . . . . . .

STRIP MINING!!!!!!!!

I jump inta' ma' pickup
Hit the gas
N' drive to minin' camp.
It's time to goooooooo . . . . . . . . .

STRIP MINING!!!!!!!!

I've bin' minin' fer' hours
When suddenly
A COYOTE!!!!
Grab that there rifle
N' shoot that coyote!!

Five hours later
I git' inta' ma' truck
N' head back home
Tomorrow's another busy day oooooooooff . . . . . . . .

STRIP MINING!!!!!!!


the end

[traks44]

I know nothing about poetry or stanzas or what not, I know they are rough but I still like them. I think thats what important when it comes to this kind of stuff.

[skein]

Good post, Traks. I love the stuff, rhythm and rhyme, not like the modern offerings that sound more like a dirge than poetry.

Here's one I'm working on. It's not finished, but you can kinda get the idea.

The Homestead

Sometimes I get lost in the desert,
No, not lost like I'll never be found,
Just lost in the way that I wander,
When I follow my musings around.

I remember one salty gray morning,
And a canyon etched out of the sands,
And the washout that riddled the bottom,
Like lines on weathered old hands,

Where I came across gray faded bottles
With labels scoured off by the dust,
And pieces of iron in the sagebrush,
And tin cans all coated with rust.

I knew what these relics remembered,
So I followed my gaze up the slope,
Knowin' I'd find if I followed,
The remnants of broken down hope.

Some sandstone that formed an old footing,
Boards that were rough-sawed and worn,
Aged by the wind and the sun's glare,
Scattered about by the storm.

. . . . . . . . . .

Skein

[saber_jack]

Originally Posted by skein

Good post, Traks. I love the stuff, rhythm and rhyme, not like the modern offerings that sound more like a dirge than poetry.

Here's one I'm working on. It's not finished, but you can kinda get the idea.

The Homestead

Sometimes I get lost in the desert,
No, not lost like I'll never be found,
Just lost in the way that I wander,
When I follow my musings around.

I remember one salty gray morning,
And a canyon etched out of the sands,
And the washout that riddled the bottom,
Like lines on weathered old hands,

Where I came across gray faded bottles
With labels scoured off by the dust,
And pieces of iron in the sagebrush,
And tin cans all coated with rust.

I knew what these relics remembered,
So I followed my gaze up the slope,
Knowin' I'd find if I followed,
The remnants of broken down hope.

Some sandstone that formed an old footing,
Boards that were rough-sawed and worn,
Aged by the wind and the sun's glare,
Scattered about by the storm.

. . . . . . . . . .

Skein

I like that one a lot. You have a talent.

[duckboy]

Skein,

Keep going man.

Really can see that place you describe.

I guess that is the cool thing about "Poetry" not always rhyming,

But, it paints a picture with words,

Sometimes it is not even the words, but the way their "said"
The voice that is a part of the way the story is told.

I mean, Imagine that great stuff about cowboys, or one of Robert Service's works being read in the voice of Groucho Marx or Woody Allen... It would change the whole tilt of the story.


So not just the words, but the voice given by the words.

I'd get that guy that narrates the movie "The Big Lebowski" to narrate the cowboy stuff, that would really jam.

[Cliff D.]

Very much enjoy cowboy poetry, thanks Traks and Skein for sharing. Skein, i especially like ones that bring back memories or make you feel like your there. Thats what your's did.

[PIR8 Hook]

By my favorite Cowboy poet, Wallace McRae.

Reincarnation

"What does Reincarnation mean?"
A cowpoke asked his friend.
His pal replied, "It happens when
Yer life has reached its end.
They comb yer hair, and warsh yer neck,
And clean yer fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life's travails."

"The box and you goes in a hole,
That's been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts in when
Yore planted 'neath a mound.
Them clods melt down, just like yer box,
And you who is inside.
And then yore just beginnin' on
Yer transformation ride."

"In a while, the grass'll grow
Upon yer rendered mound.
Till some day on yer moldered grave
A lonely flower is found.
And say a hoss should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once wuz you, but now's become
Yer vegetative bower."

"The posy that the hoss done ate
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed,
But some is left that he can't use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground
This thing, that once wuz you."

"Then say, by chance, I wanders by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponders, and I wonders at,
This object that I found.
I thinks of reincarnation,
Of life and death, and such,
And come away concludin': 'Slim,
You ain't changed, all that much.'"

[FallRiverGuy]

While I don't write poetry, I do throughly enjoy listening to this fellow when he is on NPR:
http://www.baxterblack.com/