FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection
29769 results found for "No Search Criteria Set"Book Title
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Poem Title
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The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
59
Elden K. Shaw
Uncle Roni
Uncle Roni lived on the side of a hill, In a shack whose ruins remind me still, Of this gentle, kind, and simple man, Who still inspires me to be the best I can.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
61
Elden K. Shaw
Tommy Sherry
No one knew from whence he came, Only that Tommy Sherry was his name, And from the world he'd become a defector, For the hard, lonely life of a gold prospector.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
63
Elden K. Shaw
The Attorney
Isolated from most all of the human race, By miles and miles of only empty space. My hometown was a good place to reside, If from the world you really wanted to hide. The nearest railroad was twenty miles away, To reach it by horse and buggy took one day.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
64
Elden K. Shaw
Uncle Ray
This poem's about my favorite Uncle, Ray, Who lived in a very different time and day, When story telling was considered the norm, And he was a master of this archaic art-form.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
66
Elden K. Shaw
Great Uncle George
Uncle George lived only a stone's throw away, And at times I visited him practically every day. Especially when my brother went to first grade, I oft "helped" him gather the eggs that were laid.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
68
Elden K. Shaw
Rollo James Kimber
Rollow James Kimber was his given name, And though he enjoyed only modest fame, When I was a boy he was a hero to me, Since he was the cowboy I wanted to be.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
70
Elden K. Shaw
Thomas Thomas
One of the earliest settlers of our town, Was a Sheep man of somewhat local renown, Cotton Thomas still has a small calim to fame, Since today the "Basin" bears his unusual name.
The Mystique Of Grouse Creek
FC 11 S-64
73
Elden K. Shaw
Going Home
Someday I'll go home again. Up the hill and down the lane, To that little house I know so well, Tucked away in that mountain dell. There sitting upon the porch will be, Grandma and Grandpa waiting for me.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
14
Slow Falling Rain
Thunder rumbled in my dreams this morning, it was distant but plain. I tried to hold back the day and the dawning, tried to dream us some rain. I heard the horses stampede to the stables, they always know.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
16
Uvalde County
Now the days have been many I've drifted these ranges, Many's the night I have slept on the ground, But the sun it won't rise here to darken my shadow, Uvalde County is where I am bound.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
17
Laurie Wagner Buyer
Cherry Red Winter
Finite questions bring no absolute answers. The power of mountains stare down daily life. Caravans of buses streak across the globe. A microcosm of ocean-blue swamp begs forgiveness.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
18
On a June Afternoon
I sit on the stoop eating fresh fruit: bananas and strawberries from Mexico, Anjou pears from Argentina, oranges from California, apples from Oregon.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
19
Cotyledon
A slender white arm rises out of the compost, like a ballerina in arabesque.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
20
Witness to a Death
A young flicker smashes into the glass of my narrow sunroom window. She falls. A stone to the ground. Rising from winter weeds the wind ruffles orange-shafted feathers.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
21
Blizzard Night
Sleeping tucked in with sorrow allows no surface for joy or warmth only the cold edge of anger caught in the heavy thigh that presses mine, the weight of wild worry around.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
22
Five-strand with Stays
The fence trembles when I touch it, a barrier to bulls, and cows with calves, to elk that leap over at low spots, and to antelope that bend ballerina bodies to slide under, white bellies brushing sage.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
23
Hay Meadow
willow wild redtop river bend butterfly shooting star silver weed snipe wooden bridge foxtail fringed gentian.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
24
Jon Chandler
On the Rio Grande at South Fork
The lace-thin leather of the boot's sole succumbs to the erosion of matter, rending microscopically at the point of greatest pressure allowing a gap that ruptures further with each step.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
25
Texas 1968/1983/1998
Opal--pregnant with Daryl Horn's child the night she turned fifteen-- doesn't remember much; a little pain, a little blood, the odor of Daryl's old man's English Leather and cigarettes and the way the shadows cast by headlights played.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
27
The Once-Gangly Kid Looks Back
Standing before the tiny campfire at dawn shivering from cold and anticipation the smell of the scratchy wool blanket inside the flannel cocoon of the sleeping bag, shielding me from the alpine night.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
28
Bob Cherry
Collage with Dark Dog
The prism you tie with thread to the kitchen windowshade is cutglass, a small jewel to separate the colors of light not yet in our winter sky. From each side of the table, we taste out morning tea, wait and watch the dark dog separate itself from blackness.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
29
Fair Grounds at Fort Worth
Second summer at carnival and Fred and Sally and Cal and Alice and me all went free to ride and hear the calliope. And watch ourselves in the mirrors.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
31
Innuendo to a Final Frontier
You see the filching wolverine but only when your fish are gone-- and still she moves alive behind your eyes, where she catches for each of your blurred suspicions of her a full view of you twice.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
32
Quartet
Two cranes cried outside the darkened bedroom window last evening, a tide-filling slough separating each from each and me from drunken laugher in the harbor. Fearing night flight.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
33
Two Forces
must have worked on stone shards, plain and separate halves from greater rock, tortured, smoothed, and tumbled from the cold stream where I wade like a Sisyphus to his task.