Folks' Poems

Back to Lariat Laureate Contest
Back on home
Back to the list of Folks' Poems

JUDITH IVERSON
LaVerkin, Utah
About Judith Iverson

 

 

 

Hurry Furry

I'd been trappin' coyotes,    havin' good luck at it too.
Tho I's running low on bait-scent   I knowed just what to do.
When I caught a live un, with his toe snagged in my trap
I tied his mouth and both legs up, after givin' his nose a rap.
Lashed him behind my saddle, high tailed it to our camp spot
Where George & Meb was loungin'. They asked: "what have ya got?"

I says, "I got a varmint that I'm gonna use for bait."
They eyed each other serious, then say "Hold on, just wait."
Meb, he wants to practice that 6 gun at his side.
George, he had a rifle, to make holes in the hide.
They's bored of their cow punchin' and lookin for some fun
Said: "Let us shoot your coyote.  We'll get him on the run."

Them boys is real sharp shooters and noted for their skill
Neither of them doubted was nothing they can't kill.
I'm youngest of the trio and tried hard to resist
Reluctantly I agree, thinking: coyote will get missed.
I take 'im from my saddle.  Untie his legs and mouth
Point him toward the hillside an watch him scoot off south.

Six bangs from the handgun, rifle pow-wowin' too
Coyote zig-zagged to freedom, as through that lead he flew.
I watched him vanish o'er the bank, a thick lump in my chest.
Cousins bragged their shootin' but we knowed the varmint's best.
The boys was havin' sportin that critter, he could give.
Coyote seen it different: He ran so he could live!

2005, Judith Iverson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Judith told us: My husband, Budd Iverson was born in Nevada in grew up on the Arizona Strip and in Southern Utah.  He has written a collection of his memories and I have put several of them into poems.  This is from one of his stories.  The "Meb" in this story is Melvin Whipple, father of Lucky Whipple..."  


 

Honeymoon Trail

Honeymoon trails ain't always smooth, sometimes there's bumps and there's turns.
A feller just travels the best way he can, and from some of them mistakes he learns.
Like a feller I knew who found him a bride out in the lights of the city. 
Thought to teach her the joys of his country life and show her the mountains so pretty.
They packed up some things and decided to go spend a couple of weeks with the sheep.
Woolies for company and horses to ride, in the old sheep wagon they'd sleep.
The feller was happy and says to his self: "Sheep herdin' was never like this
When I was a kid, just me and my horse, look at what I have missed."
When they got back to camp for the night and his sweetheart unsaddled once more,
Oh! she was stiff and chaffed from the riding, can't remember e'er being so sore.
Like I say, she's a city gal, not used to such things.  Her hubby is full of concern.
What could he do to make her feel better?  Racked his brain of all he had learned.
"Got something here in the wagon, my dear, will cool you and ease all the pains.
I've used it a lot on sore aching horses for bruises and bumps and their sprains."
"Just lay on the bed here and bare me your fanny, after all, we're ol' married folk.
I'll dab this stuff on and in less than a minute the hurt will be gone with one stroke."
That's what she did, and it didn't take long 'til she was yellin' and cussin' and crying"
"What have you done you son-of-a-gun?  It's on fire!  I think I'm a dying!"
So he yanks off his hat and starts fanning the burn, not knowing what else to do.
"Liniment always makes ponies feel better.  What is the matter with you?"

2005, Judith Iverson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Judith told us: It is a lot funnier now than it was at the time. 

 

Blue Rocket

Blue Rocket was a mustang that Meb had got in trade,
To hone up my bronc ridin' skills, see if I could make the grade.
We tied up his ol' hind foot and blind folded that cayoose
Then cinched my saddle on him and turned that critter loose.
He done a demonstration with high and crooked leaps
But my saddle stuck tight to him as he done them violent feats.

Meb figured that he'd do best, snubbed to his big prize stud,
With hand a covering Blue's left eye, he hollered "Climb on Bud!"
I come around right cautious from the aim of his hind foot
And step aboard him quick-like.  In that saddle I take root.
He sees me setting up there and gives a mighty lunge, that,
Lays Meb and yeller Stud-horse out on the hard earth, flat.

As we go sailing o'er them, and I'm a lookin' down,
In that instant I can see 'em, laid out there on the ground.
Soon as he feet hits dirt, Blue has Me on his mind,
And means to shed me quickly any way that he can find.
But I don't come loose easy, 'though he does his level best,
So he gets another notion 'bout puttin' me to the test.

He races down the lane now, to see what I can take.
Turns left into a barb wire fence 'thout puttin' on the brake
A flying leap to scale that fence catches at his knee
Hits the ground with chest and nose, still can't get shed of me.

We're runnin' wild down thru the flat and he circle way around
Towards a big ol' cedar tree with branches on the ground.
I tries my best to turn him, but there ain't a bit of use.
Like trying' to guide a racecar when the steering wheel's come loose.

He plows into that big tree.  For me it's awful grim.
When he comes out the other side, I'm left hanging on a limb.

2005, Judith Iverson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


Judith told us: My husband, Budd Iverson, was a couple years younger than his cousin, Meb Whipple.  (Meb, his son Lucky, and Meb's sister Yula Sue Hunting are accomplished Western Cowboy Poetry writers). Meb passed away a few years ago.  Budd and Meb grew up close to each other on the Arizona Strip, so many of the stories Budd wrote of his memories of that time include Meb.  I have felt impressed to convert some of those stories to poetry. 



 

About Judith Iverson:

I wrote "Hurry Furry" and several other poems while helping my husband, Budd, compile his memories.  Some of
his stories tickled my funny bone and I have always liked making up poetry.  As you can see from the picture, we are just 2 old grandparents.  We only have 2 horses now that we keep for grandkids to ride but in the "olden days" we had many more.  

I was born in Kentucky, but grew up in Ohio coming to Utah over 40 years ago.  The country life is the best.

 

 

www.cowboypoetry.com

 

HOME

 What's New | Poems

 Features | Events  

Poetry Submissions | Lariat Laureate Competition

Subscribe | Newsletter | Contact Us

  Join Us!

 

Authors retain copyright to their work; obtain an author's
permission before using a poem in any form.

 

CowboyPoetry.com is a project of the Center for Western and Cowboy Poetry, Inc., a Federal and California tax-exempt non-profit 501 (c) (3) organization.  

 

Site copyright information