FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

96

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Driving to Red Scaffold

The Belle Fourche River is muddy and galloping.

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

102

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Wolves

I know your pirate face, your eagle nose, scarred throat, at any time of day, any mood or season.

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

106

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Driving home from Rockyford school

A gray highway lies light on the winter-bleached land

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

112

Linda M. Hasselstrom

For the last time

They came to the oldest ranch in the Badlands, parked their pickups by the house, ankled through the gumbo dust past the cook wagon

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

119

Linda M. Hasselstrom

The ditch and the liberated woman

This week I met a ditch seven hundred feet from the well to the house

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

43

130

Linda M. Hasselstrom

White Buffalo

In the hospital, nurses pad on rubber-soled feet, doors are closed. My husband's oxygen bubbles in the corner. "This is a terrible way to die," he says "slowly suffocating."

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

133

Linda M. Hasselstrom

George's Poem

required few words. Even dying, he kept it simple: "Be happy. Watch the sunsets."

l

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

146

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Digging the bulbs

Dear Wilford, This afternoon I dug gladioli bulbs.

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

298

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Drought Year

I dreamed I slept alone in a drought year, and now I do.

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

317

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Butchering the crippled heifer

First: aim the pistol at her ear.

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

331

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Bridges

The first time yo swerved to the roadside, I thought you'd forgotten that in Scotland

Land Circle: Writings Collected from the Land

FC 11 H-43

339

Linda M. Hasselstrom

Beef eater

I have been eating beef hearts all my life.

Humorous Cowboy Poety: A Knee Slappin Gathering

Dawn Valentine Hadlock and Madge Baird, editors

FC 11 H-42

48

Fred G. Ellis

Dear Mr. Auctioneer

I was at the auction Saturday past and I think ya gaveled a little too fast.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

5

S.E. Raub

The mama cow

Back in the days when great grandfather rode he was honest and always forthright

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

10

S.E. Raub

Cowboys

The trails yet to be marked out, and the land was wild and free

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

12

S.E. Raub

The South Dakota Cowboy

He's rugged built, just like I read with a hat that makes him tilt his head

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

15

S.E. Raub

Cowboy Christmas

It's a lonely life for a cowboy when he's set off far away and time has brought him here alone on a windy Christmas day.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

16

S.E. Raub

Grandad's chair

There's an empty chair beside me where I listen to the songs the songs I heard so very long ago.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

18

S.E. Raub

Remembering

I pulled my truck to the side of the road and watched the rain coming down.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

23

S.E. Raub

Insomnia

I bought me a bottle of wine last week cause I always heard it'll help you sleep and lately I'd been tossin' a bit in my bed.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

26

S.E. Raub

An Ode to horse poop

Horse poop, it's that ingenious creation by God that tunnels its way out the back of a horse and can green up the driest of sods.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

27

S.E. Raub

Thumbnail Pete

We called him Thumbnail Pete he was a big, burly Wyoming man.

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

28

S.E. Raub

Charlow

I'll tell ya old Charlow was quite a friend he trailed with me fifteen years

Cowpie justice: Cowboy Poetry

FC 11 R-38

30

S.E. Raub

A ten gallon cote

If we had a cowboy for a president a real well rounded old Buckaroo