Eight Viewpoints: western poetry
The poems previously
posted on this site have now been published as a chapbook, Eight Viewpoints: western poetry, ISBN 978-0-9624438-7-9, and is available internationally for purchase or order
through your local and internet booksellers. The poems and authors are: Raw
Desert Poet by Kenneth Garcia, The Boots by Debra
Meyer, Cowboys by Del Gustafson, Ornery Breed by Steve Dickson, Ode
to Equus by Virginia Cook, The Vicksburg Siege by Stephen Foster, A
New Land by J. Wesley Taylor, Sr., and The Historian by Clark Crouch.
Hard Candy Cowboy
by Debra Meyer
Debra Meyer was born in Brooklyn, New York in 1955. Her family migrated west to Indiana when she was ten; and she has lived there ever since.
She has always loved horses, dogs, and the great outdoors and fell in love with
cowboy poetry in 2007, when she attended the Red Steagall Cowboy Gathering in Fort Worth Texas. Shortly thereafter, she tried her hand at it and is
now hopelessly hooked.
He wasn’t large in
stature,
Couldn’t tell it by
his walk.
His bobwire eyes
could cut you,
Had no nonsense in
his talk.
Some folks, they’d
shy around him,
Cause he came off
sorta gruff,
Made no bones ’bout
right ’n wrong,
And he’d tell it to
you rough.
His body bore the
traces,
Of the trade he’d
made his own,
He took up bronco
bustin’,
When he wasn’t quite
full-grown.
His hands was scarred
and twisted,
Not a finger there
was straight.
His legs was bowed
and crooked,
Had a wobble in his
gait.
He built a
reputation,
Over forty years or
so,
For turnin’ out good
horses,
Both for workin’ and
for show.
I sometimes came to
watch him,
But took heed in what
folks said.
“Stay out the way and
quiet,
Or that man’ll have
your head.”
The horses that they
brung him,
Was the rankest ones
to ride.
Most had been treated
spiteful,
Wore the proof upon
their hide.
I watched him with
the horses,
He was tough, but not
unkind.
He made the right
choice easy,
So the wrong was left
behind.
“These horses took
their troubles,
Not from nature, but
from man.”
His words were strong
and steady,
“I just do the best I
can.”
“I put the trust back
in ’em,
That another took
away.”
I saw him stroke the
forelock,
Of a little Arab bay.
A man’s soul can’t be
hidden,
From the creatures in
his care.
The horses knew the
secret,
That the cowboy
wouldn’t share.
I watched the cowboy
workin’
And I quickly struck
a thought,
I was thinkin’ ’bout
hard candies,
That my mamma
sometimes bought.
Their flavor was
strawberry,
A right tasty sort of
treat,
On the outside hard
and sour,
But the inside’s soft
and sweet.
That cowboy and them
candies,
Both were filled with
a surprise.
The hard and sour
outside,
Was used only for
disguise.
I liked those ’berry
candies,
Came to like that
cowboy too.
Forever in my memory,
That hard candy
buckaroo.
Copyright
©2009 by Debra Meyer. All rights reserved.