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The Best Cowboy Poems by Michael R. Burch
The Best Cowboy Limericks by Michael R. Burch
These are the best cowboy poems by Michael R. Burch, including cowboy limericks, cowboy songs
and even a cowboy villanelle (or, more correctly, a cowgirl villanelle).
Cowboy Limericks
A cowboy exclaimed, “Fiddle-faddle!
Who cares if I ‘date’ my own cattle?”
But his wife cried, “You chump!”
Kicked him hard in the rump,
And now he can’t sit in the saddle.
—Michael R. Burch
A cowboy confessed to his brother
That he’d taken his horse as his lover.
But the mare neighed, of course.
It was rape, and by force.
Then the prick was killed by the nag’s mother.
—Michael R. Burch
A cowboy confessed to his priest
That he’d screwed twenty cattle, at least.
“Father, am I forgiven?”
But the dude died unshriven,
Since the thunderbolt left him deceased.
—Michael R. Burch
The New Year approaches, with goals
Prancing about like wild foals;
But they dodge the damn harness,
Retreat into farness ...
Now I’ll have to walk home, I suppose.
—Michael R. Burch
Villanelle of an Opportunist
by Michael R. Burch
I’m not looking for someone to save.
A gal has to do what a gal has to do:
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.
How many highways to hell must I pave
with intentions imagined, not true?
I’m not looking for someone to save.
Fools praise compassion while weaklings rave,
but a gal has to do what a gal has to do.
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.
Some praise the Lord but the Devil’s my fave
because he has led me to you!
I’m not looking for someone to save.
In the land of the free and the home of the brave,
a gal has to do what a gal has to do.
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.
Every day without meds becomes a close shave
and the razor keeps tempting me too.
I’m not looking for someone to save:
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.
Blue Cowboy
by
Michael R. Burch
He slumps against the pommel,
a lonely, heartsick boy—
his horse his sole companion,
his gun his only toy
—and bitterly regretting
he ever came so far,
forsaking all home's comforts
to sleep beneath the stars,
he sighs.
He thinks about the lover
who awaits his kiss no more
till a tear anoints his lashes,
lit by uncaring stars.
He reaches to his aching breast,
withdraws a golden lock,
and kisses it in silence
as empty as his thoughts
while the wind sighs.
Blue cowboy, ride that lonesome ridge
between the earth and distant stars.
Do not fall; the fiends of hell
would leap to feast upon your heart.
Blue cowboy, sift the burnt-out sand
for a drop of water warm and brown.
Dream of streams like silver seams
even as you gulp it down.
Blue cowboy, sing defiant songs
to hide the weakness in your soul.
Blue cowboy, ride that lonesome ridge
and wish that you were going home
as the stars sigh.
I believe I wrote this poem as a "trail song" during my songwriting phase, sometime between
1974 and 1976, around age 16 or a bit later.
Cowpoke
by
Michael R. Burch
Sleep, old man ...
your day has long since passed.
The endless plains,
cool midnight rains
and changeless ragged cows
alone remain
of what once was.
You cannot know
just how the Change
will rape the windswept plains
that you so loved ...
and so sleep now,
O yes, sleep now ...
before you see just how
the Change will come.
Sleep, old man ...
your dreams are not our dreams.
The Rio Grande,
stark silver sands
and every obscure brand
of steed and cow
are sure to pass away
as you do now.
I believe this poem was written around the same time as “Blue Cowboy,”
perhaps on the same day. That was probably sometime around 1974, at age 16 or
thereabouts.
Roll on, Red River
by
Michael R. Burch
Roll on, Red River,
a cowboy has died.
Roll on; we lay him
down here at your side.
Carry him off
to the wild, raging sea . . .
Roll on, Red River,
and set his soul free.
Roll on, Red River,
roll on to the sea,
and sing him to sleep
as you roll up his dreams.
Sing him to sleep
with some old, lonesome song . . .
Now roll on, Red River,
and roll him along.
Roll on, Red River
and say a kind word
for an old surly cowhand
who died poor and hurt;
poor as a pauper
and hurt by his friends . . .
Roll on, Red River,
roll on to the end.
Roll on, Red River,
a cowboy has died.
Nobody loved him
and nobody cried.
A cowboy's not much,
but at least he's a man . . .
So roll on, Red River,
roll on and be damned.
I believe I wrote the original version of this poem as a dirge or lament, around the time I wrote
“Blue Cowboy” and “Cowpoke” – perhaps even on the same day. I believe I had been
reading Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour around this time, and I pretty religiously
watched the Kung Fu western TV series from 1972 to 1975.
impressions of a desert
by michael r. burch
a barren
wasteland
nothing grows
from the sky
molten gold
heats, congeals
oases vanish
or waver
,unreal,
even scorpions
languish
somber
mountains
shift and merge
dustbowl seas
at the verge
of the horizon
stretch, converge
the sky is poison
sand storms
surge
lizards
whining
curse the sky
squinting fire
from burnt eyes
slipping, squirming
rattlesnakes
quench awful
yearning
for moisture
and hate
a flower
every thousand miles
rustles
crinkles
worn and dry
I wrote this poem during my “cummings period” around age 16 in 1974-1975 and
revised it around 1976, according to my memory and notes.
Desperado
by Michael R. Burch
Have you ridden the fences
of plains never-ending
as the wind sighed for lovers
long past, or long gone?
Have you dreamt of a night
with a pale moon ascending,
as Death stole a kiss
from your lips before dawn?
If love is the gold that you seek,
are you fleeing
for fear that its luster
may blind you again?
Oh, desperate lover, I loved you
not knowing
you would flee from my arms
through this cold, driving rain
to wander alone where the stars do not shine,
having stolen the brightness from love — yours and mine.
This poem was inspired by the Eagles song “Desperado” and was written
as a song in 1973
when I was 15 years old and still in my songwriting phase. The Eagles song came out in
April 1973 and I remember writing my song soon thereafter. My song is close to
a sonnet in form, but that was not intentional on my part.
While the following poems are not cowboy poems, per se, they are about deserts,
oases, mirages and the search for lifegiving water...
Dry Hump
by Michael R. Burch
You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once.
But joys are wan illusions to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.
Oasis
by Michael R. Burch
I want tears to form again
in the shriveled glands of these eyes
dried all these long years
by too much heated knowing.
I want tears to course down
these parched cheeks,
to star these cracked lips
like an improbable dew
in the heart of a desert.
I want words to burble up
like happiness, like the thought of love,
like the overwhelming, shimmering thought of you
to a nomad who
has only known drought.
Because You Came to Me
by Michael
R. Burch
for Beth
Because you came to me with sweet compassion
and kissed my furrowed brow and smoothed my hair,
I do not love you after any fashion,
but wildly, in despair.
Because you came to me in my black torment
and kissed me fiercely, blazing like the sun
upon parched desert dunes, till in dawn’s foment
they melt, I am undone.
Because I am undone, you have remade me
as suns bring life, as brilliant rains endow
the earth below with leaves, where you now shade me
and bower me, somehow.
I wrote the first version of this poem around age 18, then forgot about it for
30 years. Then something about my wife Beth made me remember the poem, so I
revised it and dedicated it to her.
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