Tag Archives: poem about cowboys

Open Range

Open Range

Most cowboys are beef-witted. They ride the open range
decrying life in cities, avoiding any change.

They scan the far horizon to detect changes in the weather—
rain or hail or funnel clouds and speculating whether

to move the herd to shelter, making noises that will soothe them,
wondering if moves down towards the south draw might behoove them.

Their horses part the tall grass like a boat might part the sea.
Their lives out in the open are kitchen and bathroom-free.

They cook over a campfire and when it’s time to pee,
they mosey over yonder where no one else can see.

Prompt words for today are: bathroom, speculating, beef-wittednoises  and   boat,

 

I decry the usual definition of beef-witted and hereby expand its definition. I’m presently in South Dakota at my town and school reunion. Plenty of cowboys here and in fact I took this photo a number of years ago on main street  at another town reunion.

Ludicrous Lore


Ludicrous Lore

They say the perpetrators all got off scot-free
by posing as indigenous, but how could that be?

They made a ludicrous trio, emerging from their car.
All wrapped-up like packages, they couldn’t wander far.

They’d been here stealing chickens from White Cloud’s poultry farm
 on the reservation, but what could be the harm?

He had so many chickens that he’d never miss the one
or two or three or four or five that they had pinched for fun.

Yet with feathers in their hat bands and blankets held around them,
instead they uttered this excuse when the rangers found them.

They’d done a bit of hunting here on tribal land.
Their leader was Geronimo. He and his loyal band

had shot the deer with arrows, then bound it to their roof
with ropes tied ’round its antlers and then around one hoof.

But driving down the winding road, the driver got too dizzy.
(They said that it was vertigo that put him in a tizzy.)

That’s what caused the accident that spilled them off the road
where they toppled over sideways and lost their struggling load.

The deer ran off into the woods. It seems it wasn’t dead,
but merely stunned when arrows hit it on the head.

(Luckily, the bottle from which they’d all been drinking
had fallen in the water where the car was quickly sinking.)

It’s surprising that the rangers believed their tawdry tale,
and so they didn’t haul these buffoons off to jail.

They simply called a tow truck, which to their consternation
towed the whole bunch down the road to the reservation

where, alas, they found no kin but only laughter met them
as they huddled near the car and phoned for friends to get them.

And after they departed—hungover, sodden, sore,
their whole silly debacle passed into tribal lore.

The time those drunken cowboys with nothing else to do
sneaked onto the tribal lands and tried to pass for Sioux.

Their totaled car they left behind, and here the whole plot thickens.
It now serves as a handy coop for all the tribal chickens.

Today”s prompt words are scot-free, vertigo, indigenous and package. Image by Tyler Mulligan on Unsplash.

Cowboy Kiss-Off

Cowboy Kiss-Off

As the years go by, my dear, it is more obvious that
you’re about as useful as this bobble on my hat.
Your eye has turned to roving and you’re out most every night.

Anger’s the main emotion that you’re able to incite.

You’ve forfeited my trust. You are taking me for granted.
You find me just as tasty as a wine that’s been decanted
for so long that it has molded and started to go sour.
Once put upon a pedestal, I’ve  fallen from my tower.

Once you thought domesticity was like a field of clover,
whereas it’s obvious now that you would rather be a rover.
So best that you be off. The sooner gone would be just fine.
Your stuff is in this bag. As you recall, the ranch is mine!!

 

Other prompts for the day are bobble and trust.

 

Cowboys

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Cowboys

When considering cowboys, there’s much to admire.
They’re tough and they’re skilled and available for hire.

Their style’s not eclectic. They all look the same.
They’re wild and they’re wooly. Not easy to tame.

They’re never clandestine. They’re out in the open.
Just  shootin’ and spittin’ and ridin’ and ropin’.

Made out of leather and chew and barbed wire,

nobody knows when cowboys expire.

For though they aren’t known for their tact or their heart,
there’s much to admire in how they depart.

No need for a service or funeral pyre,
no casket, no preacher, no flowers, no choir.

They merely climb up and sit straight in the saddle,
ride toward the horizon and simply skedaddle.

 

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https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/rdp-monday-skedaddle/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/04/fowc-with-fandango-eclectic/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/your-daily-word-prompt-clandestine-february-4-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/admire/