CowboyPoetry.com    Cowboy Poetry and Music and More at the BAR-D Ranch


 Don White's Photography, Clifton, Texas

SHERROD L. FIELDEN
Clifton, Texas
About
Sherrod L. Fielden


 

Featured in "The Big Roundup," an anthology of the best of CowboyPoetry.com.

 

 

Payday

Spring round-up is finally over.
We finished the branding today.
We're ready for some relaxation.
Next week we start puttin' up hay.

We're ridin' back to headquarters,
looking like we've been in a war.
Skinned up, dirty and hungry,
every muscle is aching and sore.

Red, he's ridin' beside me.
His lip is still swole up and split.
A big calf we'd flanked for branding
jerked a leg loose and kicked him with it.

His lip spurted blood right quick like,
and mixed with his chaw-backer juice,
mud-pies formed on his cheek bone
as his tear ducts kinda let loose.

But, he'll feel better right soon now,
as he soaks off the blood and dirt,
in that ol' number three washtub.
When you cowboy, you're sure to get hurt.

We're cleaned up and had a good supper --
beef, beans and a big slab of pie.
They feed better here at headquarters,
than at camp out under the sky.

Boss already had our pay laid out;
he knows we earned it, too.
Cowboys and money are pretty much strangers,
except for a day or two.

We've got on our town hats and clean clothes,
the first we've seen for awhile.
We step in the stirrup and head out,
even Red can muster a smile.

There's a social and that's where we're goin'.
Later, we'll try the dance floor.
But, first we best wet our whistles,
'cause that's what paydays are for.

Later on, we'll work our way back home,
as daylight breaks over the plains,
Soak our heads in the water trough and change clothes --
and work till it's payday again.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

 
The Greenhorn

The train pulls into the station.
On board, a "Dude" filled with elation.
Amid smoke and cinders, he steps down,
and plants his feet on cowboy ground.
 
Standing there in awe of his surroundings,
another world, no doubt astounding.
With mouth agape, he surveys the scene --
this vastness like he's never seen.
 
His derby hat just bounds away,
in the first dust devil of the day.
His suit and tie denote a Greenhorn,
a curiosity to natives born.
 
His dream intact, he's finally here.
The end result, to him, is clear.
A quick, deep breath, it's time to start.
He's already a cowboy at heart.
 
Across the street, the mercantile -
work clothes and boots, western style.
To meet his needs --- the right size;
hope they explained shrink-to-fit Levis.
 
A 40-pound saddle and a rope or two,
leather chaps for brush he'll ride through,
a wide-brimmed hat to shield the sun,
 a "hot roll" for sleeping, when day is done.
 
Catch a freight wagon about daylight,
soon Amarillo fades from sight.
Headed for Channing to try to hire on
with the XIT, a ranch that's well known.
 
Thirty and found, a true cowboy at last.
Takes a lot of ribbing about his past.
Slowly loses his funny way of talking,
and his high heeled boots change his way of walking.
 
Putting up hay and repairing windmills,
hard, boring work with very few thrills.
Once in awhile he helps with cattle --
a cowboy for sure, when he's in the saddle.
 
Round-ups and branding, sweat stains on his hat,
knocked off in the dirt and often stomped flat.
Cowchip fires that keep the irons hot,
used for cooking, too, when that's all you've got.
 
Cedar posts hauled in by the wagon load,
"Bob" wire comes in on the railroad,
to make six thousand miles, eventually,
of fencing on the XIT.
 
He's learned what lonesome is out here,
where the sky is big, and crystal clear;
so many stars, they dwarf all else,
and confronts his insignificant self.
 
In the distance, a coyote talks to the moon,
daylight will be coming soon.
Biscuits and beef - the standard fare,
strong, black coffee on the fire there.
 
Several horses make up a cowboy's string.
Not all horses can do everything.
Some are fitted for use in daylight,
night horses see better in diminished light.
 
Some are strong swimmers; others hate water.
A few slow and deliberate, but most are quick starters.
Close-coupled or leggy, cutters and ropers,
smooth walkers, trotters, and some easy lopers.
 
Regardless of color, stance, or size.
The telltale signs are there in the eyes.
Read it right and he'll work with you,
read it wrong and have lots of walking to do.
 
The work never ends, and years trail by.
Good weather and bad, one eye on the sky.
Thunder clouds that blot out the sun,
bright flashes of lightening cause cattle to run.
 
Prairie fires can occur at any time,
leaving long, black scars on the land behind.
Blue northers, blizzards, hail storms, too;
droughts, and floods to be worked through.
 
Time sculpted the faces of these outdoor men --
gouging canyons and crevices in weathered skin.
Hours of dust and sun give a permanent squint,
and you wonder, one day, where youth went.
 
Selling off big ranches, reducing their size.
Fast disappearing before startled eyes.
Land now used for farming cotton and corn;
end of an era, for which he was born. 
 
Wind and dust while he waits at the depot,
for the Super Chief to get ready to go,
carrying his pine box on this last trip home.
No longer a Greenhorn -- just a cowboy alone.
 
Looking back through the veil that shadows the past,
these cowboys helped build something to last.
A strong sense of right, they would take a stand.
All that needs to be said is, they rode for the Brand.
 
All this was real, and I'm here to say,
I knew some old cowboys, before they faded away.
A true grasp of life, they knew where they stood,
before things became warped, out in Hollywood.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

Stampede

Hollywood's "west" is glamorous indeed.
Western paperback novels are fun to read.
Cowboys get hurt, but barely bleed,
all in the excitement of a stampede.

Well, they did have the excitement right.
Chasing a herd of cows in the dead of night
sure will start your blood to pumping,
and prairie dog holes get your heart thumping.

Should your horse stumble, putting you down,
as you lie there on that shaking ground
knowing each minute might be your last,
as wild-eyed cattle go streaming past.

Nobody knows what sets cattle off.
The flare of a match or a "Nighthawk's" cough,
the creak of a saddle or a lightning flash,
a clap of thunder can start the mad dash.

Then it's ride like the devil is hot on your heels,
try to turn the leaders into a mill.
Settle and hold them 'til morning comes 'round.
Survey the damage -- how many head went down?

Spend the day gathering them once more --
sleepy, tired, hungry, aching and sore.
Knowing that they might run again
before the sun rises and the long night ends.

Ask any cowboy who has ridden through one,
how glamorous it was when finally done.
All he needs to know is he gave his best,
some biscuits and beef and catch up on his rest.

Sometime later, passin' the time of day,
and yarns being spun, you might hear him say
something 'bout a stampede he once was in,
and how easy life was, as he hides his grin.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

Supply Run

On the high plains of West Texas
where land is flat and there are no trees,
we all used coal to heat with,
when winter brought that icy breeze.

Fuel was running just a tad short
one frosty, wintry morning.
We needed to make a supply run,
should a blizzard strike without warning.

"Way before day, by a coal oil light,
and breakfast well over and done,
the foreman said, "I'll need my best driver to go
so, 'Injun Jim', you'll be the one."

Jim was the horse wrangler, from over the line
in Oklahoma, a full-blood Kiowa.
He understood horses and they understood him,
he was the best that I ever saw.

We got him hitched up -- he took Tony and Bill,
and the wagon rattled out of the yard.
Twenty miles to Muleshoe, load up, and start back.
To make it in a day you had to drive hard.

All through the day the weather got worse.
The snow started coming on down.
Supper time came and went, and still no Jim --
maybe he stayed over in town.

About ten o'clock we heard him drive by,
toward the barn to get out of the storm.
In awhile he came through the bunkhouse door,
and started hugging the stove to get warm.

As Jim started to thaw, he took off his coat
and hung it on the back of his chair.
A near empty bottle dropped out on the floor,
along with mail he'd stuffed in there.

"Boys, it was a cold day -- what else can I say?
That alcohol kept me alive.
It didn't taste all that good, but I knew it would
keep my hands warm enough to drive.

Here's the groceries and mail, now I'm mighty tired.
I've got to lay down and sleep.
I wasn't sure I could make it back here,
'cause some of the drifts were so deep."

We said, "You sleep late, we'll unload the coal,
it'll keep this old cast iron stove hot."
Jim snapped his fingers as he dozed off,
and said, "I knew there was something I forgot!"

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



 

Dixie's Dime 

He struggles just to stand up,
from the table where he sat.
He grips the edge for steadiness,
and slowly reaches for his hat.

A sweat-stained John B seven X --
new silver bellies cost a lot.
Scrambled eggs and grits his breakfast now,
can't chew with the few teeth he's still got.

A gnarled hand digs into a pocket
of jeans 'way past their prime.
He quietly lays the tip beside his plate,
it's always the same -- a dime.

His income now is limited,
since age has taken away
the cowboy skills at his command,
back in his younger days.

He rides the Social Security range.
He's on their payroll now.
Getting paid for doing nothing
bothers him a lot somehow.

He always sits at Dixie's station.
She serves his meals with style and grace.
She recalls his looks a few years back,
before time drew a road map on his face.

The size of the tip don't mean a thing.
To most he's a broke down cowboy reject.
But, when he shuffles in, with gaps in his grin,
she knows he'll pay her double -- with respect.

© 2002, Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

 

Real Cowboy
~ A Tribute to Wade Morriss ~

Wade was a cook of some renown,
his biscuits were always golden brown.
His chuck wagon was the center of attention,
and a meal he cooked was worth the mention.

But, it hasn't always been this way.
When he was young there were days
spent fighting bulls at the rodeo,
and Wade put on quite a show.

Too many hookin's and busted bones
finally forced him to leave the bulls alone.
Still, this old cowboy was far from done,
and not yet ready to sit in the sun.

Out of the spotlight and back to the range.
Cowboys only earn a few dollars and change,
but then they get paid in other ways.
They know when it's over, they didn't waste their days.

His love for horses pulled him through,
always in demand to train a few.
A working cowboy is the way to live,
then Wade discovered he had more to give.

Storytelling was always a part of his life,
so he started performing for his kids and wife.
Their laughter could be heard in the evening time,
as Wade sat on the porch and opened up his mind.

Then he started to write some stories down,
and his poetry made smiles of many a frown.
While he cooked up the vittles, he was mixing in rhyme,
and he got them both right most of the time.

Later sculpture became his number one goal.
Whether mounted cowboys or newborn foal,
his fingers translated the thoughts in his mind
into art that's as real as any you'll find.

Wade rode the circle
he's done it all.
He's lived through the spring, summertime, and fall.
With winter approaching in a short while,
he's carved out his niche in the cowboy style.

© 2007, Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Sherrod comments: I wrote "Real Cowboy" as a tribute to my friend, Wade Morriss, who is a real cowboy and who looks like the image that most folks have in their minds of what a cowboy should look like.  He is "the long tall Texan."

 

B Western Cowboys

All the cowboy needed to make his mark
was sweat with a little blood thrown in,
the smell of the rain as it soaked the grass,
and the feel of the wind on his skin.

Thirty a month won’t buy too much,
if you figure things that way,
but when sundown comes and you unsaddle,
you know you’ve had a worthwhile day.

Hollywood took the excitement of a stampede
and a good campfire at suppertime.
They somehow wove a hero’s life
for a ticket that cost a dime.

Those B Western cowboy heroes
filled our childhood time and space,
riding miles across our trusting hearts
as they put the bad guys in their place.

Oh, to return to those simpler times
when life and movies were black and white.
You knew who your friends and enemies were,
wrong was wrong and right was right.

Now the movies are all in color
and the looks we get from people are strange,
as we express how great life was
when B Western cowboys rode the range.

© 2010, Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Sherrod comments, “Thinking back on my childhood, I recall the enjoyment and learning experiences generated by the B-Western movies. So simple, yet so true, and a good
guide to live by. I have been surprised and pleased by the positive reactions to this poem. Those who read or hear this poem tell me that they are immediately transported back, in their memories, to that time and place. This indicates that all of us still long for the simple days gone by.”

 

Rhyme and Reason


2010

Rhyme and Reason: A Collection of Poems by Sherrod L. Fielden, Writer of Rhyme!

From the publisher's description:

Sherrod L. Fielden was born on a farm on the south plains of Texas. His birthplace is Lamb County, which was in the Yellowhouse's (#7 division of the original XIT ranch. As a boy, he was acquainted with the cowboys still working ranches in the area, and many of his cowboy poems are based on his remembrances of those men and their stories. Sherrod is a veteran of the U.S. Navy. His patriotic poetry comprises moving tributes to America's heroes wearing the uniform of our country. Some of Sherrod's work is serious and thought-provoking, and some is humorous and just plain fun. His poetry is written in common, everyday language and appeals to persons in every walk of life. Writing only rhyming poetry, he vividly captures the feel of the “down home,” ordinary person. Sherrod wants his poetry to be that which anyone can pick up, read, and enjoy.

Rhyme and Reason: A Collection of Poems by Sherrod L. Fielden, Writer of Rhyme! is available from Sherrod Fielden (you may request an autographed or inscribed copy) for $23.95 postpaid:

Sherrod Fielden
1605 W. 9th Street, Apt. A-9
Clifton, TX 76634
254-675-2872
email

The book is also available from Amazon, Publish America, and other booksellers.


 

About Sherrod L. Fielden:

Sherrod was born on a farm on the South Plains of Texas.  His birth place is Lamb county, which was in the Yellowhouse's division of the original XIT ranch.  As a boy, he was privileged to spend time with the old cowboys who had spent their lives working on ranches. They told him of their cowboy lives in their early days.  When Sherrod began writing poetry, late in life, he began with telling the stories of those old cowboys, written into rhyme. In this way, he helps preserve their history, and their significant contribution to our lives. 

Sherrod especially enjoys opportunities to share his poetry with children and young people.  His aim is to write poetry that anyone can pick up, read and enjoy.  Sherrod enjoys every opportunity to visit schools and speak to students about the enjoyment of writing and reading poetry. He interacts with students, ranging from elementary students to high school students, in school assemblies and in the classrooms.  During the visits he reads his poetry to the students, answers questions, encourages the students to write, interacts with them about their ideas and writing styles.  Using his humorous poems, he emphasizes the fun of writing and reading poetry. Because of the theme of his Cowboy Poetry, it is also a tool for interesting discussions of the history of our state and nation.  For the past two years, the fourth grade students at Salado, Texas have used selections of Sherrod's cowboy poetry in the annual fourth grade melodrama presented at Tablerock Amphitheater, written, produced, directed and acted by the students.
 


Sherrod Fielden in a visit to second grade classroom.
 

2012 updates from Sue and Sherrod Fielden:

Sherrod is especially honored when he is invited to be on any Veterans program. On such programs he recites his poetic patriotic tributes and he sings.

Here is a photo of a Veterans Day program on November 7, 2011 in Clifton Texas which featured speaker U.S. Congressman Bill Flores. Sherrod will also be part of the 2012 Veterans Day program which will have a theme of “Hometown Heroes—Honoring Our Veterans.”

Bosque County, Texas has held a 9-11 memorial service each year beginning with the first year anniversary on 9-11-02. The service also honors Bosque County’s own first responders. Sherrod is on the annual program to provide a poetic addition at these very moving services.

Sherrod’s poem for 9-11-11 (the 10th anniversary), “9-11 Let Us Never Forget:
 

9 -11

LET US NEVER FORGET

By Sherrod L. Fielden

 

The United States is a huge place.

New York is just a small part.

We’re the whole fifty states melded together,

one common body with one uncommon heart.

 

Our country had always been secure

until 9 - 11 - two thousand one.

Four airplane bombs changed everything.

Terrorism was real when that day was done.

 

It touched us all in our collective heart.

It drew us together as nothing before.

We were suddenly aware we could be hit --

that distance and water could not protect our shore.

 

Too many good Americans died that day.

“You’ll be remembered” was our solemn vow.

However, ten years has dimmed it for many,

and they rarely speak of it now.

 

What have we become as a people?

Have we forgotten what 9-11 means?

Are we such wimps we no longer fight

to save our families and our dreams?

 

God who has blessed our country so greatly

is no longer welcomed at this place.

We can no longer pray in His Holy Name,

they want Him removed without a trace.

 

Now they want to build a mosque at ground zero.

We absolutely cannot ever let this be.

If we give a little here and a little more there

they’ll own us and we’ll never again be free.

 

Let us remember 9-11 for what it is…

our wake-up call, loud and clear.

We must fight for right before it’s too late

to keep our country and to live without fear.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

 

 

Sherrod’s poem for 9-11-12, “9-11 ~ 11th anniversary ~ A Remembrance”:

 

9-11 ~~ 11th Anniversary

A Remembrance

By Sherrod L. Fielden

 

I stand here again this morning

as I have for eleven sad years.

As always, today vividly reminded

of the sorrow and all the tears.

 

That shocked our nation that fateful day

when the first plane dropped out of the blue

and flew straight into the north tower,

forever changing the America we knew.

 

Now, time has begun to dull the pain.

Only on the anniversary do we recall

what ushering in the terrorist era did…

in changing our nation once and for all.

 

In Bosque County we honor this date each year,

but others want to change it to every five.

They just can’t be bothered with the other four --

I say we need to keep it alive.

 

So, we’ll continue to meet here each year

as proud Americans, it’s the least we can do.

9-11 victims and heroes deserve our respect.

We must not forget -- we are victims, too.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

 


Sherrod was commissioned to write a poem for the June 2, 2012 DAR Insignia Marker Dedication for the grave of Elizabeth Patton Crockett (widow of Alamo hero David Crockett). Mrs. Crockett’s grave is at Acton Cemetery. Her grave is the Acton State Historical Park which is Texas’ smallest state park. The featured speaker at this event was Texas State Senator Brian Birdwell.

Here is the poem: 

Elizabeth Crockett

Pioneer Woman

DAR Insignia Marker Dedication Ceremony

 

~ verse written by ~

~ Sherrod L. Fielden, Poet Laureate Bosque County, Texas ~

 

Pioneer women were special people.

Elizabeth Patton Crockett clearly fit the mold.

Completely dedicated to her family,

her story is one that must be told.

 

Daughter of Robert and Rebecca Patton,

he a veteran of the Revolutionary War.

All “Daughters” must have that special connection,

so the world knows exactly who they are.

 

Robert received a thousand acre grant

for his patriotic service in answering the call.

Through Elizabeth he’s honored, with this DAR marker,

for the freedom he helped pass down to us all.

 

His Revolutionary War service is the key.

It’s the deep root that holds us tight,

binding us together in patriotic service

that we might always discern what’s right.

 

Today we stand here in Acton State Park -

the dimensions may be rather small.

Not everything in Texas is super size…

but Elizabeth Crockett will forever stand tall.

© Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

 

Previous updates:

In March 2003, he was honored to have been commissioned to write a special poem that was presented to the Senate and House of Representatives at the Texas Capitol on the occasion of "Texas Chisholm Trail Day." 

Sherrod is a 2004 nominee for Poet Laureate of Texas. The town of Meridian declared September 15, 2004 as "Sherrod Fielden Day" in recognition of his poetry and UIL Students from Meridian High School read some of Sherrod's poems during the recognition ceremony.


Sherrod Fielden and wife Sue Fielden, with county Judge Cole Word (standing) reading the proclamation of "Sherrod Fielden Day" on September 15, 2004.

 

Sherrod was very honored to be invited to write a poem for the October 1, 2007 dedication of the Elizabeth Crockett Butterfly and Hummingbird Garden at the Acton Nature Center (near Granbury, Texas). Elizabeth Crockett was the widow of Davy Crockett. (Read an article by Mike Cox about her at Texas Escapes.)


Pictured:  Regent Marcy Carter-Lovick of the Elizabeth Crockett chapter D.A.R.,
Carolyn Cotton (great-great-great granddaughter of Elizabeth and David Crockett), and poet Sherrod Fielden

 

The Acton Nature Center was developed on five acres of land, in Acton, off Smoky Hill Court, from land given to the community by the US Government. This property was used by the military during WWII to land planes, placement of beacons, and for other military purposes. The Government donated this land to the community with the stipulation the land is used solely for the benefit of the community....no other purpose. The Acton Nature Center consists of an Alamo Mission-style building surrounded by various gardens, trails, and more, named for prominent figures in the fight for Texas independence, particularly those involved at the Battle for the Alamo. There are hiking trails, bike trails (such as the Bowie Bike Trail), various gardens, including the Elizabeth Crockett Butterfly Garden.

Sherrod was contacted by Board member Andrea Roiz about writing the poem for the dedication. He wrote the poem and read it during the dedication ceremony, at which time the descendants of Elizabeth Patton Crockett present for the event were recognized. Marcy Carter-Lovick, Regent of the Elizabeth Crockett chapter D.A.R. of Granbury, attired in period dress, gave a very interesting history of Elizabeth Patton Crockett. This is Sherrod's poem:

Elizabeth Crockett Butterfly and Hummingbird Garden
Reflecting Our Texas Pride

We gather here today to celebrate
this special place that’s set aside;
a link to the past on the road to the future,
this site reflects our Texas pride.

Ever mindful of those who came before,
making it possible for us to be here.
We honor, Bowie, Travis and David Crockett
and sing their praises loud and clear.

This nature center and beautiful garden
embrace the wonder of our great state.
These native plants adapt and survive,
and still keep their beauty up to date.

As visitors enjoy this oasis through years yet to come
we can feel the pride that education brings.
Our children can take away worthwhile knowledge,
and honor Elizabeth Crockett when they sing.

As always the future rests upon our youngsters,
how they bear the burden begins right here.
May the peace of this place bless their journey,
and butterflies of this garden bring them cheer.

© 2007, Sherrod Fielden
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.


 

Sue and Sherrod moved to Clifton, Texas in 2008. Sue writes, "One of the favorite things we do now on a continuing basis is a monthly poetry session with the residents of a local nursing home. What a joy it is to hear their memories recalled with laughter and twinkling eyes as Sherrod helps them form it all into poems, which are then published in the monthly newsletter."


In June, 2010, Sherrod Fielden was named "Poet Laureate of Bosque County, Texas." The first Poet Laureate of Bosque County, he will serve for three years as a goodwill ambassador.

At a June 10, 2010 reception, Sherrod  read some of his poems and Bosque County Judge Cole Word and special guest, musician Steven Fromholz, Texas Poet Laureate Emeritus, presented the award to Sherrod.


Presentation of Poet Laureate award to Sherrod Fielden by Judge Cole Ward;
Texas Poet Laureate emeritus Steven Fromholz at left


Sue and Sherrod Fielden
 

Sue Fielden writes about Bosque County:

It is really a special place, a rural county but we have a lot going on here. It is a wonderful place to live; it is beautiful here and we enjoy living among so many gifted, talented, and caring people.

Here are links about Bosque County:

www.bosquecounty.us  Hills, canyons and prairies—lakes, rivers and streams—wildlife, recreation or relaxation— There's something for everyone in Bosque County

www.bosqueartscenter.org  The Bosque Art Center. Since its inception in 1981, the Arts Center has been housed in the only remaining building of the historic Clifton Lutheran College. Serving the citizens of Bosque County as well as the surrounding counties, the Bosque Arts Center has become a center for performing & visual arts as well as for recreation and educational programs.

Considered one of the “100 Best Small Art Towns in America,” Clifton has attracted such renowned artists as the late James Boren, the late Melvin Warren, Bruce Greene, Martin Grelle, George Hallmark, Tony Eubanks and George Boutwell. Many of those artists have exhibited or taught at the Arts Center.

www.bosqueartscenter.org/theatre.asp  The Tin Building Theater. A very successful community theater.

www.bosquemuseum.org  The Bosque Museum is dedicated to protect and preserve Bosque County's historic and prehistoric resources for the use, education, enjoyment and economic benefit of present and future Bosque Citizens.

www.bosquecountycollection.org  The Bosque County Collection. Its mission is to collect and preserve historic as well as current materials about the county and make them readily available to researchers. Valuable and irreplaceable historical materials pertaining to Bosque County have been saved by the Collection. Many of these historical materials are not available anywhere else. The Collection is located in the historic Lumpkin Building across from the Courthouse.

www.cliftextheatre.com  Cliftex Theater, recently beautifully renovated, is Texas oldest continuously operating theater.
 


 

This "Bio" is written by Sherrod's darlin' wife, Sue.  If Sherrod wrote his own "bio," it would simply be something like this: "Hello, I'm Sherrod.  I'd like to read you this little 'thang' I've scratched out here between naps."

Sherrod and his wife are the parents of two grown sons and a grandson.

We asked Sherrod why he writes Cowboy Poetry and he said: "I tell people I write poetry because it is good therapy and I am too cheap to hire a 'shrink.'  The real reason I write poetry is because I love telling stories in rhyme.  In particular, I like writing cowboy poetry. Where would we be without the cowboy -- then and now?  We all live busy lives these days, but we should not forget those who have helped level out the trail for us.  Cowboy poetry is important in preserving the history of early days of ranching and the men who developed the strains of livestock that we know today.  If my small contribution to cowboy poetry can help preserve their legacy, I am most pleased.

You can email Sherrod Fielden.

 

www.cowboypoetry.com

 

HOME

 What's New | Poems | Search

 Features | Events  

The BAR-D Roundup | Cowboy Poetry Week

Poetry Submissions 

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