Today I get to feature my favorite Cowboy Poet and Photographer, CowboyAmerica!
(No one's allowed to get jealous that I say that cuz I'm married to the man!)
Without further blather from me, CowboyAmerica!
Connect with Cowboy on Twitter
Or
Check out the photos on his Instagram Account .
He no longer checks Iinstagram but there's some cool photos there.
Life Story
Ranch Raised by a family
of Texas Cowboys, we raised mostly what were known as “whiteface”
or HORNED Hereford cattle, back when the Hereford was king. I grew up
raising and training American Quarter Horses. I became a horse
trainer for the public at 8 years old. I went on to work for a TQHA
trainer of the year; we won 3 divisions of the All American Quarter
Horse Congress in one year. Later I went on to work exclusively on a
private ranch, training cutting horses and at one point I had 10 head
of horses in the top 10 standings of the NCHA Area 24.
Along the way I did things
such as gaming, rodeo, roping, and team penning. I guess you could
say my life story has been about doing things on horseback. I’m
actually more comfortable sitting on horseback than walking on my own
two feet.
Career.
I’ve done many things as
most modern cowboys have, everything from construction to welding, to
briefly working for a Fortune 500 Company, finally with a few years
in The Mission Field.
How did you get
introduced to your art.
When I was a kid my dad
had a subscription to Western Horseman magazine, so much like my
collection of World Book Encyclopaedias I consumed every word and
photo. The cartoons and poetry were some of my favorites and that’s
what inspired me. I penned my first poem in the late 60s.
Subject Matter
My subject matter up until
just a few years ago had been only true things, things that I’ve
lived. As a kid I was inspired by people like Ben K. Green and John
Ford, so my poems had always been about things I had done, like my
poem "Twine Tosser". In 2009, after my poem "The Palomino Border Collie" was published, I decided to try my hand at fiction. That’s when "The
Christmas Cowboy" came along and a few others.
Palomino
Border Collie
There
he was, as I pulled into the drive,
Standin there all shaggy
lookin barely alive.
I stepped out of the
pickup truck and mosied over his way,
“Whataya say lil’feller,
have you lost your way?”
As I dropped down on my
knee and stretched out my arm,
I began talking softly, “It’s ok
buddy, I don’t mean you no harm”
Slowly I reached to give a
pat and reassuring hand,
But I could tell by the
way he flinched it’uz something he didn’t understand.
Just at my fingertips, I
could barely scratch his brow,
“let me slip this leash
on you and we’ll get you some chow.”
I’ve bought horses with
cockle burrs and cows with mud on their back,
But the shape this dog was
in nearly gave me a heart attack.
I got out the clippers and
really went to work,
I’m a Christian
Gentleman so I won’t repeat what I said about some jerk.
A couple hours later he
was finally ready for the tub,
The way this pup was
stinkin he really needed a scrub.
40 minutes later wrapped
in a towel in the living room floor,
I saw a gleam in his eye
that all owners adore.
He’d just been
mistreated, maybe misunderstood,
But in the next few months
he learned what it was like to be treated good.
He learned to fetch a ball
and come and sit when he was told,
He even gained some
confidence and learned to be bold.
He became my buddy and
followed my every step,
Every time I went to the
barn he was there to help.
Sleepin right beside me,
following me around every day,
He became a ranch dog
that’s all I got to say.
We went to the feed store,
the ladies oo’d and aah’d,
“Pardon me” a lady
said, “for a ranch dog, his breed seems kinda odd.”
Ol’Ted was my buddy; I
couldn’t shame him in front of this clod,
I said, “but he’s a
special breed, sacred in his land,
Known for bein special;
why he’s a heck of a hand.”
Lookin at his features,
she wanted to know the name of this special breed,
“Aw Ma’am” I said,
“It’s not that special” It’uz like most I know’d she’d
see’d,
“He’s a palameaner
border collie, you can tell it from the golden coat”
Rollin her eyes above her
specks, she looked at me like I’uz an ol’ goat.
Studying him again she
said, “OH I never knew,
But looks like this one’s
makin a hand for a cowboy like you.”
Then she knew I was
funnin, cause the ladies at the counter laughed,
At the breed I chose, to
protect my other half.
So now you know Ted’s
story, just an old mistreated mutt,
But that don’t change
the fact of things, I’d still like to kick that ol’boys butt!!!
This Poem can be found in
the book “A Bone On My Pillow” ISBN # 978-0-615-32797-6 on pages
28&29 and Ted is on page 30.
This Poem was written in
the summer of 2004 after rescuing a part Field Spaniel and Cocker
Spaniel that was soon named Ted (AKA Teddy Ruxpin). This dog was
severely abused and was in horrible condition. Ted was one of those
miracle dogs who made a complete turnaround after 3 long years of
intense therapy. Ted is now happy to meet almost anyone and will
often offer a handshake or a favorite toy as his greeting to a new
acquaintance. Ted’s personality is now very close to that of the
Championship Border Collies that I’ve been privileged to own. I
still get to see Ted though he now lives with his new owner, a
Portland Oregon celebrity make-up artist. I have rehabbed many dogs
over the last 30+ years and believe that all any dog needs is a
chance to prove his GOD given talents!!!
Christmas
Cowboy
Years ago on the Flyin S
when I was but a young man,
I had the privilege to
work with Nick, he was the top hand,
He rode a spotted horse
that never stopped to open a gate,
You’d see’m flyin over
8 foot cattle guards, A fact I can honestly state.
There weren’t none
others I knew, that’uz quite like Nick,
He’uz always whittling,
or makin something, even out'of'a stick.
Well it’uz in December
and dern it sure was cold,
“Heifers was out of the
top section” is what we’uz told.
We saddled up our ponies,
him on Spot and me on Ol’Cap,
And Nick he’d ride ahead
and open every gap.
Ain’t no way I was about
to jump that sorrel over a cattle guard when I could just as easily
open that gate,
But
dern if Spot wasn’t walking at a good West Texas rate.
Well we made it to the
supply station and bedded down for the night,
After some of my good
beans and coffee, Nick said we’d leave at first light!
Just before I doused the
lantern, a feed store calendar is what I could see,
Friday the 23rd
was the date of this piece of HIStory.
Nick fell asleep cutting
on one of his sticks,
If’n it’d been me
fallin asleep with my knife out I’d woke with more than a splinter
prick!
Hard tack biscuits and
dried apricots with our coffee and we saddled in the dark,
It’uz gittin light and
Spot knew the trail, “We better git” is what Ol’Nick barked.
Well we found’m in the
neighbor’s meadow, 144 head in all,
Nick rode to where the
fence was down and he just gave’m his call.
I’ve seldom seen
anything like it, heifers on the backside of 40 sections just comin
at the sound of a Cowboy’s drawl,
It’uz down right
powerful, akin to the Lord callin the Apostle Paul !!!
Well we spliced 4 wires
and restretched the 7 all the way to the rock stack,
By the time Nick was
through you could play a tune when he slipped off the fencing jack.
He seemed to be in a
hurry, workin awful fast,
By the time it was all
tied off we were feelin a Northern blast.
We headed back to the
station to leave those fencing tools and I thought I’d fix some
lunch,
But Nick was now cold to
the bone and set in the saddle with more than his usual hunch.
We rode hard all
afternoon, hopin to get back just after dark,
But on this 24th
of December, Ol’Nick was shiverin in the cold and seemed to lose
his spark.
We had made it more than
three quarters the way back to the barn,
When I heard Ol’Nick say
“well darn.”
“What’sa matter Nick,
have ya got some place to be?”
He said he had to get to town,
there was someone he needed to see !!!
Well, knowin Nick a quiet
man, that was something unusual to see,
I never known him to leave
the ranch in all our HIStory.
Then he said, “me and
Spot are gonna ride on ahead, you don’t have to keep up with us”
The last of them I saw was
the big spot on that red nosed App slowly fadin away in the dusk!
He’d always worn a red
wool coat handmade by a tribal mother,
Lined with white sheep
skin like no other!
Well I awoke just before
dawn and something wasn’t right,
I didn’t smell Nick’s
coffee, he musta not got back last night.
I jumped in my boots and
went out to the barn, there was Spot, still saddled and nearly froze,
Wy, I wouldn’t’uv
even recognized him if it weren’t for that red nose.
I led him in his stall and
got that icy saddle off his back,
And a few gift wrapped
presents in an ol’gunny sack.
Was that what Nick had to
do that rushed him off into the night,
He and old Spot and those
cattle guards that were met with bounding flight.
Well, I blanketed ol’Spot
and rushed to saddle Cap,
By now I was fearin Nick
was a victim of mishap.
Well about the time I
headed out the barn, Spot was bout to paw down the stall door,
So I slipped on a long
lead, as his hooves were sparkin up the floor.
He was rarin’ to go, and
I was sure he’d know the way,
So it was him that led me
to Nick on that Christmas day.
That red wool coat,
glistening in the snow,
But huddled up inside,
Nick still had his glow.Well Doc got him all fixed up, made a splint for his broken leg,
But before Doc could finish, Nick had already begun to beg.
“Take my ol’red wool coat, I’ve an errand for you son,
cause without the presents in that sack the ranch kids won’t have their Christmas fun!”
Nick is long gone now, and I whittle every chance I get,
Cause me and that red nose App on Christmas Eve are jumpin Cattle guards yet!
I still wear Nick’s ol’red coat, in memory of what he done,
Sharin the Love of Jesus, deliverin’ toys to little kids so they can have some fun!!!
Copyright 2009 © Flyin W Productions All Rights Reserved
Twine
Tosser
Well it all started when
I’uz 4 years old,
A 20 footer coiled in
hand, learnin ta be bold.
It twern’t a store
bought rope, justa length cut from the spool,
A home tied Honda an’a
burner, I though it’uz just’ez cool.
I learnt ta shake me out’a
loop n'whirl it about my hat,
And if yens heard Daddy’s
stories, I even learnt ta rope the cat.
Twern’t real Cowboy
gear, but it did the job the same,
Soon me and that nylon had
us some fame.
Nothing moved across our
yard that wasn’t subject to my aim,
Many a trip and jagged
step, was added ta my blame.
Soon the dogs would run
and hide, and little brothers too,
Daddy even warned, boy
I’ll wear that thang out on you!
Confined to the barn, a
bucket’uz what I roped,
Ta be World Champ like
Phil Lyne, it’uz what I hoped.
I got ta go see my Peepaw
and he drug out his Cowboy gear,
From behind the seat’a
his Chevy ’62 he turned and said, hyere!
It’uz a real Manila, 40
foot in length,
And cuz I had been
practicin, now I had tha strength.
He drove an ol’wood
handle in the ground out in the yard,
And said, now boy take it
easy, ya don’t haf’ta rope sa hard!
I thow’d a hunerd loops
that day, and gave it all my best,
Peepaw said, son that’ll
do, now come and have a rest.
This is where I learnt
something, that stuck with me all my days,
Cauz as I grew I learnt to
listen ta what ever’n Ol’Cowboy has ta say.
If you’re gonna be a
roper son, ya gotta learn ta do it right,
Ya don’t have'ta thow sa'hard or even grip it tight.
It’s about the anglish,
the smoothniss and tha grace,
That gets yer old lasso
around that doggy’s face,
See son, practice don’t
make perfect, but Perfect Practice is what ya need!
So after that I tossed
that loop till my fangers wud bleed.
Many a day locked in tha
barn, a million loops it seems I thow’d,
And as the years and
skills increased, that 20 footer I out growed.
Daddy took me ta town fer
my 11th birthday
and bought me a fancy new rope.
But when I got to lookin
at it, I wondered if somebody hadn’t been smoking dope.
It’uz made’a Purple
Poly, with 3 weights at it’s core,
And of course ta the barn
I went, till my arm was sore.
Man that rope was really
fast, and building a loop’uz a blast,
And soon all 40 foot, this
Lil’Cowboy could cast.
Settin on the saddle rack,
a 35 gallon grease drum a’course,
But it didn’t matter ta
me none cuz it stood the same as’a horse.
Me’n that Purple Poly
could catch any thang that moved,
So Daddy decided it’uz
time fer me ta catch something hooved.
I got to go help tag
calves and even tattoo their ear,
But one thang seemed to
stick out, this Lil’Cowboy knew how ta use his gear.
40 head that day before
lunch, I didn’t miss a one,
Little did I know, this
Lil’Wrangler had taken away all’a Daddy’s fun.
So he challenged me to a
ropin, a dollar for ever one I could get,
After 15 head straight, he
wutn’t sa sure about his bet.
I dobbed it on’m ever
one and never missed a lick.
I could tell by the look on
hiz face, my Daddy’uz just gittin sick.
See he’uz a top hand in
his day, roped wild goats just fer fun,
But that ‘uz long a’fore
the LORD give’m a son.
Well it wutn’t long til
I’uz winnin, n’tie’n down I’uz real fast,
But sumthin else’d
cum’along that ta'me seemed more of a blast.
I had gotten good at ridin
bulls, and’uz winnin money left and right,
And haulin all them
expensive horses was keepin me out all night.
I roped with Tommy Walker,
Sonny Victor too,
And another feller named
Roy Super Looper from just across tha blue.
But the full growed
Bovines were more fun, they’er what sent tha money home,
So whithout my hoss and
rope, I began ta roam.
Well ya caint ride bulls
forever, they wear you out real soon,
So I retired, so nobody
would have ta feed me with a spoon.
I went off ta Hollywood,
and the director ask me if I could lassoo,
“yes I been known ta
rope a bit, and do a trick or two!”
Next thang ya know,
there’uz seven cameras, pointed in every angle,
But it’uz girls in
bikinis that they wanted me to wrangle.
I’uz in tha movies, TV
shows, commercials n'tha rest,
But it’uz my trick and
fancy ropin that I did tha best.
Out here on the ranch
agin, enjoyin my time,
Rememberin bein a Twine
Tosser,
N’spinnin you a rhyme.
Copyright 2009 © Flyin W
Productions, All Rights Reserved.
Write or do what you know,
practice it repeatedly and like my grandfather says in my poem "Twine
Tosser", “Practice doesn’t make Perfect, Perfect Practice does”
If you need help, find someone who does it in a way that you admire
and learn from their experience and expertise. I was fortunate enough
to grow up around the last of the Real Old Time Cowboys, men who made
a living in the saddle, so I hung on their every word as I grew up
and began to live the Cowboy life myself, and eventually expressing
it in poetry !!!
Catchin’
Fillies
I had an epiphany as I
woke to the mornin sun,
I now know what it is
that’s stealin all my fun.
Twernt an ornery Mustang,
or rope that quit laying right,
It’s dern chasin
fillies, what’s been keepin me up at night.
Oh it aint that I caint
find’m or git’m out on the town.
It’s a teachin’m to
ground tie that always leaves me with a frown.
Now I knowed some shiny
fillies, what trotted with their tail in air,
But caint find one I’d
trust with the herd, and that would always treat me fair.
Like catchin good horses,
I’d say it’s about the game,
Now that I understand this
deal, I only have me to blame.
You caint go runnin at
their head, with loop that they can hear and see,
You gotta stand in the
middle of the pen, and say easy now, come here to me.
Soon they
quit trottin the rail, and lookin out over the fence,
They break’r down in a
walk, then stop; and look at you intense.
Standing with lead in
plain sight, they’ll mosey over your way,
Cause somewhere in’a
twixt them ears they need ya at the end of the day,
If ya go easy, with a slow
and gentle hand,
Somehow
inside they know’ you’re their man.
They’ll come close
enough to smell your breath, and look you I the eye,
And if that first touch is
done correct, they’ll be with you till they die.
What’s the moral of the
story, what is it I’m really tryin to advance,
Well it aint the loop you
throw that get’s’m caught, somehow it’s the stance!!!
Copyright 2009 © Flying W Productions
All Rights Reserved
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