FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection
29769 results found for "No Search Criteria Set"Book Title
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Author
Poem Title
First Lines
Keywords
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
104
Photo Finish
Because a horse cannot see its own nose, the bell mare stares at herself mesmerized in the mirroried glass vet clinic door--fixates so firmly she's distracted from her chronic pain.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
106
Reminders
Cocktail-hour autumn sun accents every cat-- scratched inch of short stroke, each centimeter-deep groove she racked into Ranch Oak kitched table leg, a stick of asiago chesse or frozen butter.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
108
The Day Beelzebub Gave His Jezebel a Hotfoot
It was 53 below in Butte, where they were marooned, after the hell-hole it took them an eternity to drive up through froze over, their fire-engine red Firebird vapor-locking to a frigid halt.
Open Range: Poetry of the Reimagined West
Laurie Wagner Buyer & WC Jameson
FC 11 W-30
112
Time Travel
Gravel roads into a black hole canopy of hardwood forest were all the secrets of the cosmos she and I craved in those days before compact cars. We made aerobic love in the king-size back seat of a '56 Buick Roadmaster.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
1
Donald L. Welter
Have you never?
If you've ever rode a ridge-top, as the sun sets in the west.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
3
Donald L. Welter
That Man Is Ill
Did you ever see a hunter, didn't have the fidgets bad? As the spring is drawing nearer, you can tell, his nerve's been bad.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
5
Donald L. Welter
Hunter's Warning
Have you ever climbed a mountain, in the search of wiley game? All alone, in nature's Eden; feel so small, it has no name?
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
7
Donald L. Welter
Ode To The Selway Hunter
High in the Bitterroot mountains at the Selway River's source, you can spot the golden eagle as he swoops, careens, and soars.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
11
Donald L. Welter
Mr. Chimpmunk
You're a daunty, saucy fellow, as you dance across the root. Sure the cutest of GOD'S creatures, and don't seem to give a hoot.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
13
Donald L. Welter
Empire Lost
When you broke up on the ridge top, and set down, to catch your breath. As you sat and gazed around you, heard you, silence, as in death.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
15
Donald L. Welter
Just Musing
When I was just a little boy, there's a dream, I always had. Of a ranch, up in the mountains, with some fishing, for a lad.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
17
Donald L. Welter
Luck
When your thinking starts to wander, from the tasks that lay at hand. And you look to yonder mountain, where that bull elk, keeps his band.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
19
Donald L. Welter
Indecision
Here I sit, with pen in hand, a' dreaming, of some wit! That I could put to poetry, but, I can't think of it.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
21
Donald L. Welter
Winter's Toll
As I'm sitting here, I ponder, of the snow that's getting deep. How the elk herd's going to winter, and the bear, that's gone to sleep.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
23
Donald L. Welter
Some-Day
When you go up to Alaska, where they say, the snow fleas play. Where the Sour-doughs aren't flap-jacks; forty-niners, had their day.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
25
Donald L. Welter
The Challenge
When you hear a distant bugle, but you can't quite hear the grunt. Then you know you'll do some hiking, before you're close enough to hunt.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
27
Donald L. Welter
Verda
How well, I can remember of, those times, upon the prairie. You were, Uncle Bill or Jean, Vern and I, Tom and Harry?
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
29
Donald L. Welter
Old Tucker
Old Tucker was my tail mule, the best you'll ever see. Thirteen hands, of dynamite, but you couldn't call him mean.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
31
Donald L. Welter
Pack String
The squeek of saddle leather, and the ring of sharp shod hooves. A pack string on the rockslide, loaded heavy, way he moves.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
Donald L. Welter
FC 11 W-30
33
S. Omar Barker
Purt Near
They called him "Purtnear Perkins," for unless the booger lied, He'd purt near, done most everything, that he had ever tried.
Antlers in the Treetops or Who Goosed the Moose
FC 11 W-38
35
Donald L. Welter
The Piddling Pup
A farmer's dog, came into town, his Christian name, was Rex. A noble pedigree, had he, unusual, was his text.
Melodious Poems From the Hills
FC 11 B-58
13
Sandia Bill
When I Am Dead
When I am dead, don't cry for me; Just wrap me in a shroud And burn me, that the vapors may Help form some lovely cloud.
Melodious Poems From the Hills
FC 11 B-58
14
Sandia Bill
The Ghost
I sat on a log in the wild-wood, As the moon sailed high in the sky, And was about to enjoy the scenery When the ghost of a poet came by.
Melodious Poems From the Hills
FC 11 B-58
15
Sandia Bill
The Dying Monarch
Here stands the monarch of the forest, Slowly expiring on the mountainside, Who, only a few hours ago, Was the embodiment of health and pride.
Melodious Poems From the Hills
FC 11 B-58
16
Sandia Bill
The Little Deserette
Wild and gray the desert lay, Joe wondered how anyone could love it; Scorchign hot, as bleak and dry As the sky above it.