Megan's BootsIn honor of Cowboy Poetry Week, we thought a poetry contest would be a mighty fine way to show respect for all those cowboys who lay their heart and sole on a piece of paper or speak their mind over a midnight campfire.

Give us your best limerick, haiku, sonnet or verse.
Be inspired by your horse, the sunset or a blinged out purse.
Leave your poem as a comment below,
You have between now and the 23rd to leave at least two rows.
We will pick a winner on the 24th of April,
And shower the winner with an online gift card of $25 that can be used for tack, clothing or apparel.
So crack that whip, get your creative juices flowin’,
Write a one of a kind poem, so you best be gettin’ goin’.

Good luck!

  1. Glen Enloe says:

    The Secret Life of Horses

    We rose from primal stew and God’s full blooming tree—
    We grew tall, strong and brave – wild as the wind we ran.
    Our fear and swiftness kept us safe from plain to sea,
    While only one could tame us: the one known as man.

    Still the wind was ours, as we flew throughout this earth—
    We bore our burdens well with weight upon our back;
    We stopped when we were called by that upon our girth—
    Pain seared our mouths and sides to tell us what we lack.

    And so it’s come to this; that no more we run wild—
    We forge common freedoms that only trust will span—
    Yet there are those among us free as any child—
    But most ride their narrow trails guided still by man.

    So hoof on soil we sail; both joined at hip it seems—
    The horse and man alone – the open skies our dreams.

  2. Roxanna Hiebert says:

    Gord and Toby went for a swim back in the spring of ’06.
    It hadn’t been planned, they found themselves really in quite a fix.
    Under they went and when they came up, Toby swam to the far side.
    Gord kicked free and let the horse go figuring Toby would get out alright.
    But he couldn’t get out the bank was too steep, he kept trying but to no avail, so he turned around and as he swam by, Gord grabbed a hold of his tail.
    They made it back to the side of the creek where this adventure began,
    They got out of the creek and then there stood a wet horse and a very wet man.

  3. May Yates says:

    The Brand

    The lines on her face is more like a brand.
    Sure it has to do with age, yet more the hard work of a man.
    From every foot of barbed wire and every post put in the ground.
    Getting it all done when others aren’t around.
    She has cared for the livestock and she has cared for the family too.
    She has given all she’s got. There’s nothing she won’t do.
    Dinner’s on the stove, and the chores are all done.
    She’s got to hit the hay, she gets up before the sun.
    The brand has not defined her, even though it is her mark.
    She does at times grow weary but has not lost her spark.
    All the years of ranching and rodeos have taken it’s toll.
    but her brand has it beauty, and that is how the cowgirl Rolls.

  4. starmayb says:

    Walking through the dirt
    with his rope in his hand.
    Thinking of when
    this boy became a man.

    The dusty trail
    so long and mean.
    The good and the bad
    this cowboy has seen.

    To walk alone
    it will never be.
    Him and his horse
    with his savior makes three.

  5. seren Holcomb says:

    Rodeo time is nearly here,
    Time to pull out that fancy gear.
    Wrangler jeans and cute tank tops,
    Cowboy boots…no flip flops.

    Buckin’ broncs and tie-down roping,
    Many eight second rides, I am hoping!
    Scary are those bulls in the chute,
    However, the rodeo clowns are a hoot!

    Barrel racing is my thing,
    Complete with halters made with bling.
    Little ones all out mutton bustin’
    Sit up close and get a dirt dustin’

    Nothing more American
    Than sitting and being a rodeo fan.
    Love the things that you saw,
    You can’t wait for next year…yee haw!!

  6. Micchelle Nida says:

    This was written by a friend but soo true for many of us girls who ride..Beautiful

    I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power and empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered out of reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery, change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long ride.

    The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least I call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it ‘the sickness’. It’s a sickness I’ve had since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand the meaning of ‘the sickness’. It’s not a sport. It’s not a hobby. It’s what we do and, in some ways, who we are as women and human beings.

    I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust.

    Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding flicks his ears and moves down the trail.

    I can smell his sweat and it is perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.

    I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I do because I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend through the Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest.

    Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or any of the numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.

    The beauty I’ve seen because I ride amazes me. I’ve ridden out to find lakes that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams The Granite Stairway at Echo Summit; bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the empowerment and joy In my heart.

    I think of the people, mostly women, I’ve met. I consider how competent they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch.. We haul 40 ft rigs, we back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend the horses.

    We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the horse. We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and doctor.

    Your hands are a little rough and you travel without makeup or hair gel. You do without to afford the ‘sickness’ and probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one.

    “My treasures do not chink or glitter, they gleam in the sun and neigh in the night.”

  7. Kristen Beals says:

    You are my safe place.
    You are my solace in the rain.
    You are always there when I need you,
    and you never speak ill of me.
    You never pass judgment,
    or hurt my feelings.

    You are warm when it’s cold out,
    and cool when it’s hot.
    You are soft where you should be,
    and hard where you’re not.
    You comfort me in times of sorrow,
    and bring joy it times of sun.

    You can go anywhere I need to be,
    and never put up a fuss.
    You always hold my purse for me,
    and make my friends feel welcome.
    I can lean on you anytime I need,
    come rain, or sleet, or snowstorm.

    You are the strong, silent type,
    but often whisper softly.
    I love everything about you,
    and know you’ll always protect me.
    You are everything a man should be,
    My beautiful King Ranch F-150.

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