Cowboy poetry warning!
Warning!!
First you think of a line, and cowboy poetry happens to you. It is as if dead cowboys ride their ponies across the skies making up rhymes and give them to you to write, whether you want to or not! You chomp the words around in your mouth like a cow chews it cud until they have a rhythm and you reach a conclusion. Beware. If you read this poem a cowboy might come to you in your dreams and make you write one.
Pie eyed pioneers
Lined up along the trail
To watch the pony go by
With feathers in it’s tail
On it sat a young brave
Fierce looking and proud
He looked straight ahead
Never glancing at the crowd
Behind him, walking slow,
With swinging head came a bear
He placed each paw softly
Rippling soft golden hair
The brave slid off the pony
At the top of the hill
The bear came up and sat
And even birds were still
Huge paw and red hand
Clasped in perfect trust
The pioneers said nuttin
Shuffling in the dust
The brave and his bear
It’s almost as if they knew
What these white folks would kill
Before they were through
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About Linda
Linda Jo Hunter worked as lead guide and assistant manager of Redoubt Bay Lodge in Alaska for four summer seasons. She has taken thousands of people to observe brown bears in their natural habitat. As a tracker and naturalist, she has been particularly...
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I haven't come up with any cowboy poetry in a while, but I do have a good collection of cowboy wisdom and philosophy.
My favorite, from Baxter Black:
"Never worry about biting off more than you can chew. Odds are, your mouth is a whole lot bigger than you think."
And another, unknown author:
"The man who rides the fence gets nothing but a sore crotch."
Keep them spurs janglin'!
Eric
Okay, you asked for it. :)
I really didn't want to do this...but......
My very own cowboy poem. :)
How I Got My Name
By Eric P. Nichols, *ahem*
The Gwich'in lass from Yukon Flats
With tongue as sharp as quill
Her wiry frame belies her guile,
Prepares me for the kill
You need an "Injun" name, she says,
I think you've earned your place
I'll pick a good one out for you,
To save you from disgrace
"Whatever floats your boat," I say,
"I like mine just the same."
"Not so", she says, "You'll never know
The power in a name."
"Oh, if you must," I sigh at last
"My life is in your hands"
"You've aught to fear," she comforts me
While laying out her plans
I go my merry way that night
Not giving further heed
Unaware that winsome dame
Is brewing up her deed
"I have it!" she at last declares,
CHUTLA shall be your name
"It means 'The Prince of All We See'
And wide shall be your fame."
She sends my on my merry way
Pride oozing from my pores
To try my newfound wings as she
Goes back to do her chores
Six months later, I come home
A bent and broken man
I ask the squaw what did I do?
This isn't as I planned!
I made a slight mistake, I fear
She says with small remorse
I need to tell you, CHUTLA means
The rear end of a horse.