FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection
29769 results found for "No Search Criteria Set"Book Title
Composer
Call #
Pages
Author
Poem Title
First Lines
Keywords
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
64
Bob Christensen
The Extension
"It really wasn't the best of years, nor were the two before. We thought we'd have 'er all paid off and will by next year sure! But we lost the engine on the Case and the hay got froze back twice and this check we just got for the calves is just too thin to slice.
The Song of the Hunter
FC 11 L-40
47
Robert L. Laumeyer
Poet's Frustration
He feels the world needs What he should create. But his lines seem weak Though is dreams seem great. He dreams of lfe's meaning He dreams of song and mirth. He writes the best he can
The Song of the Hunter
FC 11 L-40
48
Robert L. Laumeyer
The Mother Lode
I'm free, I'm free, I've found the mother lode. For thirty five years I've paid my dues. I have won the greatest prize of all. I can think and write whenever I chose. i wanted my being to be on my own and not be sold to any man.
The Song of the Hunter
FC 11 L-40
48
Robert L. Laumeyer
Reminiscence
Our lives go fleeting by so fast That we barely have time to look. We forget many of the details Before we reach the end of the book. (end)
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
65
Bob Christensen
The Cowboy and the Witch
She was standing by the highway, he couldn't believe his eyes. A sure enough cowgirl Venus in a pair of stretch Levis. He put a hard whoa on his pickup and watched as she climbed in; her halter top was straining and he couldn't help but grin.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
66
Bob Christensen
Night Sounds
We first noticed it at roundup in the fall of eighty-nine when wild critters started running through the camp. And when Pete, who had the first watch, came riding to the fire in a cold sweat that had got his jacket damp.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
68
Bob Christensen
Tribute
Thank God, he's a cowboy poet. I'm speaking of Baxter Black! He's the sultan of rhyme, at least in our time; he's way out in front of the pack. He's gave us a standard to shoot for, as travelers he is our north star.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
69
Bob Christensen
Odds
The hour was late in the Palace Saloon, the beer and the whiskey flowed and six old coots in a corner sat, above them a gas light glowed. The game was Stud and the stakes were high, the deal was passed around.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
71
Bob Christensen
A Fowl Affair
The blue ribbon he wore proudly, "CHAMPION, BEST OF SHOW," it read. And he strutted, crowing loudly all around the pickup bed. Then he perched high on the stock rack, ribbon blowing in the breeze
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
74
Bob Christensen
The Vacation
We went to Harold Wrap's museum it was out Nebraska way he surely has a fine collection, we browsed aroun most all the day. There was wagons, carts and buggies, antique cars and airplanes too;
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
75
Bob Christensen
Cowman's Lament
Competition makes the world go 'round, this fact I'll not deny. But as I watch those cattle guzzle feed, I have to wonder, why we must compete with turkeys and other feathered stock whose cycles last just a few months? To me it seems a crock.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
76
Bob Christensen
The Museum
The youngster held his grandpa's hand, his eyes were big and wide. "What is it?" Was his childlike quest "how long since it died?" The creature was a buffalo with long and shaggy hair. "I guess son, they'd still be around had their been anyone to care.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
77
Bob Christensen
The New Stain
It was getting close to roundup in the autumn of the year so the parson staged a social, he even barbecued a steer. Ever body was invited, even summer haying crews and he fed them 'till they foundered but he drew the line with booze.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
78
Bob Christensen
The Consultant
"I'm from the pwer company, oh what a lovely wife and daughter, you sure have a real fine outfit here, say, we'd like to buy your water. We need it for the pwer plant and we can't get by without it; 'twill be a boon to the whole area and don't you ever doubt it.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
80
Bob Christensen
The Cure
Auntie Eff was pushing eighty when this episode took place, she was the epitome of womanhood, gentility and grace, the matriarch of the Cowbelles, she the church committee chaired.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
82
Bob Christensen
The Song of the Tour Bus Guide
(With apologies to Robert Service and Palmer Hyde) I'll tell you a story that may seem gory, how a tour guide fell from fame. I swear that it's true but it's up to you to decide where to place the blame. We were mushing away,
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
84
Bob Christensen
Thank You, Park Service
I guess it's human nature and we all must do it some; imagining how things will be as we wait for them to come. I used to day dream as a boy of places I would go and how they'd look or how they'd sound, somehow you think you know.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
85
Bob Christensen
The Lifer
Life in prison was the sentence, not much chance of parole. Endless days of doing nothing dulls the body and the sole. Oh, it's not like I'm alone here, friends and cousins they're here too.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
86
Bob Christensen
Billy Payne's Last Ride
Did you bury Billy Payne? Would you dig him up again in his coffin box you built made out of wood? Would you send him home again on the locomotive train so is Ma can say goodby to him for good?
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
88
Bob Christensen
The Lonely Grave
The man was strong and stocky that sailed the boat that day as he headed to the mainland from his isle four miles away. He knew she couldn't last long but he knew he had to try to save her with some medicine, he couldn't just let her die.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
90
Bob Christensen
Thoughts of an Island
I'm an isle in the midst of a salty sea where memories and buffalo roam and it's been nigh on to twnty five years since anyone's called me home. I once was proud and paid my way when cattle would graze my grass.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
94
Bob Christensen
Headlights on a Tractor
Head lights on a tractor, son, hear my story well. Headlights on a tractor son, damn them all to hell! We had a going outfit once before that fateful year. Who'd ever think we'd be betrayed by our good friend, My Deere?
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
95
Bob Christensen
Whose Fault Is It?
I've never seen him quite so mad and I've known the man for years. "It's happened like I said it would, the sum of all our fears from Canada it's wheat and wolves and naturally some cattle. From Mexico it's mostly beef with disease that we battle.
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
95
Bob Christensen
The Environmental Impact Statement
Ma's on about the outhouse door, she says it needs a screen. She claims the flies 'bout drive her mad, makes her visit less serene. Now we summer on the BLM and so one rainy day
Confessions of A Cowboy Poet
FC 11 C-52
96
Bob Christensen
How Come You're a Poet
"How come you're a poet? " was the question that she asked "do you find it comes quite easy or is it somewhat of a task? Did you study it in college? Where did you matriculate? Was your major composition and was you a graduate?