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TIM KAUFFROATH
Pennsylvania
About Tim Kauffroath

 

 

 

Range Rhymin'

"How do you rhyme so?" the lady asked
            with eyes 'a questionin light

"Shucks Ma'am," the cowboy said
            "They just sorta ride in on the night."

"I'll be lyin in my bedroll
             a gazin at the stars

Far away from folks and towns,
            them city streets and cars

Then on that gentle night time breeze
            A thought or phrase arrives,

Followed by 'Poetic' words
            in those prairie lullabies

Then more lines and phrases I'll behold
            Writ in stardust on the moon

While the night birds and the coyotes
            Set the meter with their tune

And when the sky turns inky black
            just 'fore dawn's iridescent hue

I'll light my fire and contemplate
            a final verse or two

Now the sunrise casts its rays
            upon a glorious frosty morn

Each crystal prism seems to shout,
            'A brand new poem is born!'

So just as sure as skies are blue,
            And fallen snowflakes glisten,

Those poems are there for anyone
            Who'll take the time to listen."

 The Lady said, "Well that may be,
            But surely, I'd suppose.

It takes a special talent to turn
            'Poetry' from 'Prose.'"

The cowboy nodded his assent
            Knowin what she said was true,

"But also Inspiration and that's
            what I get from you.

The greatest talent is to listen
            to what other people say

Then re-arrange their very words
            In a 'Rhymey' sorta way

And no matter what the subject,
            In sky, or land, or sea.

There's poetry in each and all
            If you'll listen carefully"

Yet the cowboy's heart was filled with joy
            To think that she would care

For his "poetic" offerings
            This kindly lady fair

 How thoughts of her would fill his mind
            Whilst ridin out alone

And soon they'd turn some thing she'd said
            Into another poem

"Now thank you for your kindly words
            Such friends are far too few

And folks I hope you'll understand
            That this here poem's for you

It's sorta my way of sayin thanks
            for the takin of your time

To listen to a cowboy,
            Who's tryin hard to Rhyme!"

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


This poem is also posted with our Poems about Cowboy Poetry.

 


About Tim Kauffroath:

Tim was born and raised in Arizona, a fourth-generation westerner who still recalls the lonesome call of the coyotes at night and stars as big as dinner plates out on his grandfather's ranch.

His great grandfather followed trail herds from Texas to Montana and the tales he heard as a boy fueled his love for history and the West (old and new). As life's trail wandered on, he felt a desire to help preserve the
heritage and expose the new generations to the wonders of the west and so he began performing traditional western music and rhyme for folks from coast to coast and on in to Canada.

A keen interest in history has also occasioned visits to many civil war battlefields and resulted in his writing poems on that conflict as well.

Tim divides his "spare time" between writing, singing, making cowboy gear from leather that he calls "working works of art" and silversmithing.



 

 

 

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