Open Poetry #45 |
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Tales of Your Rodeo Days |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA ![]() |
I always knew cowboys were crazy, Bull riders worst of them all. A half pint of butt, an oversized hat- And an over abundance of gall. There has to be something that’s haywired- In a guy who’s addicted to fear. Who dances with death, every week of his life, For money, and a fickle crowd’s cheer. To know that his time, too, is coming- To ride, he must surely be mad- With bulls there is no ‘if’ about it- It’s ‘when’ you get hurt, and how bad! That coppery taste as you’re waiting, Dread… mixed with a curious hope… But you give your best grin, set to dig your spurs in, And nod at the pull of your rope. You hurt every night of the journey, If you can, you like rooming alone. You hide all your fear, and never show tears- From the pain, as you sleeplessly groan. By chance, if you actually survive it- And ‘cowboy up’ and be brave – The rest of your life, is spent boring your wife- With tales of your rodeo days. |
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© Copyright 2009 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Alison![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
So good. You tell the story like few can. A |
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
Outstanding, you have my respect as an A+ poet. |
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