Photo by Jeri L. Dobrowski, used with permission
About Robert Dennis
Poems
Book
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About Robert Dennis:
I've been making up rhymes all my life and started to write them down after seeing some "cowboy" poets. Didn't seem too tuff, so thought I'd try. Like everything it's harder than it first appears, at least if you want good meter and rhyme.
I've lived on the family ranch all my life except for them four years they sent me to prison, what they called high school. My wife Cindy and I have three sons, too many horses and not enough cattle! I build saddles and other horse related gear. I can make anything but money. I admire them old timers and the way they worked cattle and horses and still think they knew what they were doing. I don't believe anything worthwhile has been invented in the last one hundred years except indoor plumbing.
I admire good cowboys, stockmen and horsemen and try to emulate them.
Robert Dennis was a featured performer at the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in 1989, 1990, and 1997.
He was featured in a cover story in the Winter, 2006 issue of Cowboy Magazine with an article and photographs by Jeri Dobrowski. Read the article here at CowboyPoetry.com.
A photo by Jeri Dobrowski, titled "Leadin' a Spare," from the shoot for this Cowboy Magazine cover story, is featured in our Art Spur project. Art Spur invites poets to let selections of Western art inspire their poetry.
The Gift separate page
Manuel Coy
He came up from the southlands
with a trailherd from Texas, they said
the results of a fight in El Paso
where a man was left lying dead
A battle for his novia, no doubt
she had broken his heart that night
his hot Spanish temper took over
because of his deed he took flight
His brother was a deputy sheriff
that policed, that small bordertown
he could not dishonor the name
that his father had passed on down
He joined a northbound trailherd
though he was scarcely more than a boy
when the trailboss asked for a name
he replied, “It is Manuel Coy.”
He rode as one with his horse
he roped with a smooth, Spanish flair
but was quiet and moody at times
as he thought of her jet black hair
He vowed he would never go back
that no other would break his heart
he gave his devotion to his work
and he raised that trade to an art
When the cattle reached Dakota
he was riding at point with the herd
he took his pay and rode north
a fine cowboy as good as his word
He rode for the big ranches for years
across this wide, virgin land
he could work both cattle and men
became wagonboss for the H O brand
When the honyockers came in droves
he helped clean the cattle off the range
then he settled on a small chunk of ground
but his life he would not change
As a cowboy he had made his mark
now a stockman, he did the same
an old bachelor with a fierce, Spanish pride
but no heirs to carry on his name
He never returned to the southland
his broken heart would never mend
he was a mentor to many young cowboys
and everyone called him their friend
We who still ranch in this country
we call him and his kind from the past
we invoke them and hold them in honor
so their trade and traditions will last
Now he lies by himself in our cemetery
under a marker of gray native stones
his spirit watches over the cowboys
and the coyotes howl over his bones© 2004, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Robert told us: This is a fairly new poem about an old man, who came to this country as a young man and is pretty historical, but had to fill in the lines a bit. Wish I could have known him
personally and worked with him. He came from the era of my great grandfather and grand father who homesteaded this ranch, where we live and work. Some of my shirt tail relations were with the Gordon party who were run out of the Black Hills after Custer found gold there in 1874. I wish I
could have been there and I would have probably fought on the side of the Indians, as they had the best of it!
Horse Trade
Along a steep ol' mountain trail
two cowboys was ridin' one day
One feller was a younger man
while the other had turned plumb gray
They came to a fallen, decrepit corral
beside that rocky ol' trail
They stopped their horses to let them blow
the old man then told his tale
"Best ride I ever made in my whole life
I made at this very spot
And I traded horses that day, too
I was young and thought I was hot
I was ridin' to meet a cattle buyer
We was gonna' make a gather
I'd been ridin so hard to meet this feller
That my horse was white with lather
The nag I'm ridin' he's sure no dandy
He's gentle, but got no heart
He's rough ridin' and won't work cows at all
He should'a been pullin' a cart
When I meets up with that wise, old dad
he's sittin' on a good lookin horse
You could tell his ol' pony was makin' him nervous
He wouldn't bother me of course!
So I up and propositions this dude
to try and make me a trade
He said he'd swap me, straight across
but he thought I might be afraid
He claimed his horse was bad to buck
If I could ride him we'd have us a deal
I grinned as we trotted to them fallen corrals
cuz' I knew that I'd just made a steal
Shoot, back then I could ride with the best
never met one that I wouldn't try
I figured to cheat this ol' feller real bad
If he'd trade, I was ready to buy
When I straddled that horse he jumped right out
He could hog and hop purty fair
But I'm smilin' and still perched there on top
when he decides to come up for some air
I told him it looked like we'd made a trade
He said, "No son, not just yet,
You gott'a take out yer' makin's and roll you a smoke,
before you can win this bet!"
So I rolled me a smoke and lit it right up
Pinched it out when it bit my lip
He hollered out to, " Hook him, high!"
I did and we had a whole new trip!
I mean to tell you he chinned the moon!
Then he lit with a piledriver force
It felt like he'd split me right up the middle
I would'a screamed, but I went plumb hoarse
I'm a rattlin' around like dice in a cup
I tried to hook my spurs in his gut
He swapped ends so fast that the next thing I know
I'd spurred myself in the butt!
Miracles do happen cuz' I got him rode
Just how, I'll sure never know
When he throws up his head, I'm still on top
But I'm a migraine from head to toe
Well I rode me a bronc and made me a trade
Should'a cut my throat with a knife
Cuz' he bucked worse than that, every time I got on
Worst trade I ever made in my life!"© 2005, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Robert told us: The poem is based on a true account told to me by GK Fraker out of Buffalo, Wyoming. The man in the poem is Norris Greaves, who was quite the bronc rider.
Night Sport
The ground was hard, there'd been a thaw
But a front had passed on through
There were icy patches here and there
And soft spots were damn few
So just before bed I went out to look
To check for a chilled down calf
"He thought more of his stock than he did of himself"
Should read my epitaph
A heifer had calved, sort'a out of the wind
The calf was shiverin' and cool
I'd put him and his mom inside a warm barn
I guess I'm a softhearted fool
I saddled up Yeller, he had eyes like a cat
But I still took a flashlight along
It seemed like such a simple chore
As I saddled I hummed a song
That heifer snorted snot, then left
Like a deer, right over the fence
I give her credit she made it look easy
Atheletic, but a little bit dense
We went 'round and 'round, back and forth
But she always came back to her child
I used him for bait to lure her to the barn
'Cuz by now she was gettin' plumb wild
From one end of the lot to the other we went
She was droppin' thin green out the back
Yeller was doin' his best to check her
Like a hockey player on the attack
Mattlock and Peppy had nuthin' on us
She had moves like a scalded feline
I tried to stifle my urge to murder
that hotblooded, hateful bovine
I swapped that flashlight for my rope
As we blockied her every jump
I was swingin' my hondo and aimin to swat her
Right there on her knowledge bumb
Just about then that 'ol snake got smart
She headed right straight for the shed
Yeller followed her slippin' and slidin'
Just like a goosed moose full of lead
I put the calf in the shed with that rotten 'ol rip
He'd warm up and be plumb fine
But her maternal instincts didn't seem that strong
So I penned 'em and tied it with twine
As I unsaddled Yeller I laughed out loud
She sure was a ringy old sow
"A job well done", I thought untill morning
When I found I'd put in the wrong cow!© 2004, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Robert told us: This poem came from an actual incident. The only time I lied was when I said I got in the wrong cow! But it sure makes the ending better! The horse in the poem lived to a ripe old age and we never failed to "get our cow". He never ever fell with me except in trying to get a cow critter on too slippery of ground. I have a painting of him hanging on the wall of my saddle building shop. I have been fortunate in this life to have had several horses that were "cowy" and he was one of them. I
called him "yeller" cuz' he was a light cream dun. He was snorty and spooky, but when he got old he made a hell of a good kid's horse for my sons. Rest in peace old buddy.
The Quest
Athletic, quicksilver, tightly wound springs
Of muscle and blood and bone
All wrapped up in sorrel, bay or dun colored hide
A regal king, up there on the throne
Flexible black hooves, like well tempered steel
Form the base of this ebullient equine
Nostrils flair and oxygen is drawn into lungs
Powering moves like a frantic feline
I've craved the feel of straddling this steed
Carried along in the dizzying dance
As we waltz and whirl alongside a cow
Mesmerizing me in this tangible trance
For years I've attempted to attain these horses
Who are capable of this graceful glide
By buying and breeding, by hook and by crook
By cheating and chiseling, I've tried
And now they are caught in my tightfisted clutches
These horses who make the deep tracks
I find that my quest has been a fine folly
I'm too decrepit to stay on their backs!
© 2005, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Robert told us this poem "had been going around in my mind for quite a while. I was trying to get it worded right and to say what it was like to always want these great athletic horses and after years of working to get them, coming to find out that I wasn't able to do them justice! Many people out there want a hair triggered, well trained horse, but they don't realize that they won't be able to ride one, even if they can afford one. You have to have as much ability as the horse. Most of us don't!"
Green and White
Springtime on the high plains
can put you on the fight
but there's somethin' about the colors
of vivid green and white
April grass has started
the sun shines warm and bright
then a blizzard passes thru
and it brings the green and white
The wind screams like an eagle
and your innards get plumb tight
but now we've got some moisture
with all that green and white
Calves born during snow storms
make the weaning average light
but without moisture, there's no grass
so I appreciate this green and white
When the winds finally do subside
the sun chases away the night
there's lots of work to be done
because of the green and white
There's bound to be fences down
wire that needs stretched tight
I slop thru' mud and muck
while gazing at green and white
As the sun melts the snowfall
the breeze still packs a bite
a'horseback I survey nature's palette
and her artwork of green and white© 2006, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Others came before
with stories galore
before we rode these hills
With gumption and grit
too dry to spit
their lives a battle of wills
To try and overcome
not to succumb
to the perils that rule this land
They traveled a hard road
packed a heavy load
yet thought their life was grand
You can feel their stares
as you ride unawares
yet never quite bring them in sight
Like a mote in your eye
or a raindrop that's dry
or the breeze when a bird has took flight
They don't wish to frighten
or even enlighten
those of us who pass this way
They wish for the past
when the die was cast
and they too ruled the day
They lived our life
full of cowboy strife
fought blizzards, drought and fire
So they watch us close
as we take our daily dose
see if we are brave or a liar
They are proud of what we do
know that we are the few
who will attempt the cowman's trial
They're the specters of the plains
hanging onto the reins
they're the legends who watch us and smile
© 2007, Robert Dennis
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
Read Robert Dennis'
At His Own Pace in our 2007 Cowboy Poetry Week Art Spur
and
Bringing Home Christmas, posted with 2006 Christmas Art Spur poems
Robert Dennis has contributed interesting photos and stories to Picture the West, including:
Ranch photos and stories about his ranch and the town of Red Owl
Area photos from the early 1900s
Ranchers Rounders & Ropers
Ranchers, Rounders & Ropers by Robert "Jinglebob" Dennis, with a foreword by Cowboy Magazine editor Darrell Arnold.
Robert Dennis describes the book:
This book is a collection of mostly humorous short stories about cowboys and ranchers and includes some of my newer poems.
Kay Sperb, a wonderful lady and a heck of an artist, did the illustrations for the book.
It costs $15 postage paid and can be ordered from:Robert Dennis
17410 Indian Creek Rd
Red Owl, SD 57787or call 605-985-5419
There is a money-back guarantee on the book. If you don't like it, just return the unread portion of the book and I will gladly reimburse you, for that amount!
Contact Information
Photo by Jeri L. Dobrowski, obtain permission for reproduction rightsRobert Dennis
17410 Indian Creek Rd
Red Owl, SD 57787
605-985-5419
Web site: dennisranch.com
The BAR-D Roundup | Cowboy Poetry Week
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