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Cowboy Poetry

We have all looked over our shoulder while horseback riding in the wilderness. What we think we see and what we feel – are with us always.

THE EMPTY SADDLE, Cowboy Poetry by Sharon Gibson Those days I rode a bay horse, He was short and fat and fine While my Daddy rode a dappled chestnut about twice as nice as mine.
We rode both hills and valleys,
There wasn’t a trail we wouldn’t try
But on goat paths and narrow ridges
My sister’s pony could still pass us by.

By: Shana Sellers

Into the starting box he is loaded
In just moments he will have exploded
His nerves are jumping
His blood is pumping

As the rider mounts up
He throws a high buck
Spectators in the crowd scatter
But he is soon down with a clatter

By: C.M. Jones

WELL EVERY YEAR AT CHRISTMAS
WE HAVE A SPECIAL KINDA RODEO
JUST TO HELP THE UNDREPRIVILEGED KIDS
HAVE THEIR OWN LITTLE SHOW

THE LADIES WHO DID THE ORGANIZING
CALLED ON COWBOYS FROM ALL AROUND
TO SADDLE UP THEIR HORSES
AND BRING UM ALL TO TOWN

By: Danielle Crawford

In green fields I love to run,
Always having so much fun,
My mom at my side
Is full of such pride
As she watches me run
with such ferocity,
And smell the flowers
with such curiosity,
People are staring at me
with such interest,
I wish I could blend
with the rest,
The sun begins to sink
in the sky,

By: Anon

Whenever I ride,
It is a feeling of exhilaration,
The wind blowing through my hair,
And a feeling of liberation.

The horse’s muscles rippling beneath me,
The mane, long and free,
Just the horse and me,
I feel like we are free.

Free from all the problems,
The world tries to hide,
Whenever it gets to be too much,
I go out to the stable and ride.

By: Stephanie Green

I loaded the tack, and then the horse,
My nerves were racing, of course.
We arrived and found a parking spot,
I saddled my horse and made her trot.
First call for class seven, hey that’s me!
Dad told me to have fun and be easy,
I entered the gate and experienced the fun,
Before I knew it, the class was done.
Standing in the lineup, thinking of the great ride I had,
They call my name, I guess third place isn’t so bad.

By: Sarah Snyder

Date or Ride?…I’ll get my Boots.
Cowgirls can’t be tamed.
God forbid that I go to any Heaven without horses!
To Ride or not to Ride…what a stupid question.
You can have my boyfriend…but stay away from my horse!

By: Katharine Nicole Jayne

In the Rocky Mountains
During the warmth of Spring,
There was a newborn colt
Such a cute little thing.
His coat was full
Of browns and golds,
And as he grew
He became playful and bold.
Then when Winter came
It was full of coldness and snow,
The food grew scarce
And it was time for him to go.

By: Chelsey Dyer

I feel his muscles churning underneath my legs,
I see the stars twinkling in the night ahead,
How fast how far until we reach that star,
That star.

By: Emily Jacobs

You make it better,
You make it alright,
Only you can make me smile,
Even when we get in a fight,
We fly through the fields,
Race on the tracks,
Jump all the gates,
You help me relax,
You listen to me,
Never talk back,
Let me cry on you,
Don’t care if I’m wearing all black,

By: Amy K. Habak

She had tucked the trunk away
in the corner of the small tackroom.
A box overflowing with old wraps
and torn blankets nearly covered the whole lid,
But the dim light of the room
caught on one of the brass latches
glimmered, catching her eye, distracting her
from the cleaning she’d come to do.
She couldn’t remember

By: Ashley Johnson

Flowing manes, tails of gold,

See them run, so strong and bold,

Muscular bodies, glistening eyes,

Roaming free, as butterflies,

Grasses and leaves, taste so yummy,

Helping them fill, a fat little tummy,

By: Chelsey Dyer

Simmering black almonds in the moonlight,
Stare deep,
Stare deep into my soul.
As I sit in his hay and lay all my fears upon him,
Words he doesn’t speak,
But words aren’t what I need now,

By: Amy Habak

Even though I just saw you last weekend,
I smile as if meeting an old friend.
When I swing onto your back,
I swing into another world.
It’s only you and me.

By: Victoria Babbin

Where do all the Beautiful Ponies go?
In the Spring, its in the Sun,
Where the sweet clover flowers grow.
When Summer comes, They seek the shade,
For this is where the day dreams are made.
After Summer comes to Fall,
They now need fat to remain tall.