Cowboy Legacy & Western Ways

I wrote this poem for a friend who attended the Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada, with my family and me. This gentleman was smitten with a lovely lady poet. After listening to her poems, he complimented her poetry and delivery. He then commented on her beauty. He said, "She's strong." Along with, "She's got good bone structure and a good jaw line." We teased him about using the same descriptive language for fine horses. In Horse Sense, I had some fun and took it a little bit further. The lovely lady poet was Diane Tribitt.

Horse Sense

“She’s strong,” the cowboy offered,
With a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ll wager she’s got bottom,
With no quit and lots of try.”

I glanced in the direction
That his nod bid me to go.
“Purty head, a real nice neck,
She looks fine enough to show.”

“I betcha she ain’t cold-backed,
Like some others I have knowed.
She’s fit and not too fleshy.”
Words of praise pert nearly flowed.

I gaped in pure confusion,
At a hammer-headed mare.
She’d been around the range some,
You could plainly see the wear.

Her pig eyes stared out blankly,
Her old cowhocks nearly kissed,
The faults I seen was endless,
They’s too numerous to list.

The cowboy had horse savvy.
His pronouncements took as law,
But the crazy he was talkin’
Worked my brain ‘til it was raw.

A fever might a took’im
Or his eyes was gettin’ dim.
I’s scramblin’ for the answer,
When I stopped and looked at him.

No squintin’ nor a’quakin’
So I knew I had to ask.
“Pard,” I queried cautiously,
“Ya been emptyin’ yer flask?”

His gaze was straight and level,
As he looked me in the eye.
“Nope,” was all he said to me,
But his count’nance added “why?”

I spluttered and I stammered,
Tried in vain to find my voice.
I didn’t want to tell him,
But there clearly weren’t no choice.

“Well,” I started nervously,
Tryin’ hard not to affront.
“That hoss ain’t naught but crowbait!”
Hadn’t meant to be so blunt.

“A greenhorn ought not question,
The fine wisdom I bestow.”
The cowboy was a’smilin’,
Talkin’ soft and kinda slow.

His grin kept gettin’ bigger,
Till it lit the whole corral.
“Ne’er said it were the mare, son.
I was talkin’ ’bout the gal.”

A purty senorita,
Led that nag on out the gate.
He watched as she departed,
“Looky there, she’s trackin’ straight.”

copyright 2010 Debra G Meyer

RIDIN FOR THE BRAND

When the boss says, “There’s some fence to mend and you all lend a hand”.

There’s never hesitation cause you’re ridin’ for the brand.                                     

If you have to move a herd of beef much sooner than you’d planned

you saddle up and head out cause you’re ridin’ for the brand.

There are certain obligations. There is pride and loyalty

and you’ll always lend a hand because you’re in the family.

I think that it’s the same for those who heed the Master’s call

and witness to the love God showed through Jesus Christ for all

The Lord said there is right and wrong and you must take a stand.

He won’t accept the middle ground when you’re ridin for His brand.

The branding iron that sears your heart was fired by sacrifice.

God sent His Son to die for you so take some good advice.

Count yourself as lucky if you’re cut out from the herd

by the wrangler that is wisdom on a horse that is the Word.

And know that what awaits you is the glory that God planned

when he sends His Son to round up those who’ve been riding for the brand.

Jeff Hildebrandt, Ó 2000

 BETWEEN MY HORSE'S EARS

www.slimscustomleather.com

Discover Your Inner Cowgirl

There's a picture on her office wall

of a cowgirl out there in the fall

with a saddle pony

grazin' by her side.        

In the distance,

mountains capped with snow

make her wish that she could know

the thrill of being out there

for a ride.

It's not the most idyllic scene,

the grass and brush are brown,

not green.

But, to her, it has a certain,

raw appeal.

It's a true life snapshot

of the West

and the caption on it

says it best:

"Discover how your

inner cowgirl feels!"

In her mind,

she feels the autumn chill

in the breeze that blows

from off the hill

where the cattle that shes tendin stop to graze.

The clouds foretell

a change of weather.

She hears the creek of

saddle leather

and sees the cattle

bunching in the haze.

She's lost inside this Western art

which brings a calming to her heart

releasin' stress that grips her like a vice.

The picture brings a sweet release.

Her inner cowgirl is at peace.

And that, my friend,

is worth near any price.

   Jeff Hildebrandt copyright 2006