Rusty Calhoun
Cowboy Hats
Bette Wolf Duncan
One Night in the Rodeo Bar
Steve Dirksen
Thinking
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Cowboy Hats
Out in the west we wear our hats,
for a lot of different reasons.
Some for work, and some for show,
but mostly we follow the seasons.
Jaunty and low, the brim just so
means he has some pride.
Straw in the summer, felt in the fall,
and he’s sure to catch a bride.
Those Montana boys like to wear ‘em wide,
and the Texans, high and mighty!
But the Colorado pokes have all the style,
And they wear 'em neat and tidy.
We Colorado gals can pick our men
not by his manly size,
not by the fit of his tight blue jeans,
but by the hat he wears over his eyes.
It never fails to fan our tails
when a tall one comes in sight
with his best boots on, his jeans all pressed,
and his hat pulled down, just right.
The man I met never showed his sweat,
his band was gleaming white.
A fancy scarf wrapped ‘round the crown
........with both eyes out of sight.
At the Valentine Dance he wore those pants
that fairly made me shy.
When he slowly looked up, to take me in,
it was to the side - with just one eye.
He winked, I blushed, he tipped his hat.
We danced to the cowboy band.
From that moment on, and for the rest of our lives
he held my heart in his hands.© Rusty Calhoun
For Larry, my forever Valentine - the man who held my heart
b. 1936 - d. 1993
Read more of Rusty Calhoun's poetry here.
One Night in the Rodeo Bar
I'd sing you a song
but my voice is all gone.
It left me when "Somebody" left me.
Both gone....don't know where....
and can't say that I care....
can't say that it's ever distressed me..
It's the funniest thing
but I never could sing
till that night in The Rodeo Bar.
Of a sudden my voice
was mellow and choice
as that of an "Old Opry" star.
I met "Someone" that night
who did somehow ignite
some intangible spark in my breast;
then did somehow conspire
to whip up a fire
that consumed every cell I possessed.
Of a sudden my voice
became mellow and choice.
Like a lark in the field I could sing.
Yet, always before
my voice was so poor
that I never could warble a thing.
Oh, the wonder of it!
Every sound I'd emit
was as pleasing as birdsong in Spring.
So vibrant each note
that flowed from my throat.....
I could sing! I could sing! I could sing!
Now there's no one but me;
and I'm glad that I'm free;
though I'm here in the bar quite bereft;
and I'd sing you a song
but my voice is all gone......
it left when that "Somebody" left.© 2001 Bette Wolf Duncan
Bette Wolf Duncan is one of our Honored Guests. Read more of her poetry here
Thinking
A group of cowboys at a table
in a cafe close to here
were jawin' about the weather
and a horse that had no fearwhen one old puncher's voice
broke in to recollect
how his wife set a table
and it made em all reflecton silverware and tablecloths
fresh flowers in a vase
food prepared with loving care
and maybe saying graceArturos' wife could doctor cattle
then cook with little muss
Sam could see his wife fix stew
and how she made a fussBill could see his wifes' hands
setting fork and spoon
and in her sly way asking
"Fixing coffee soon?"a partner full of strength
who could be gentle as a feather
helping ease the burden
of life out in the weatherand how each day was special
at the beginning or the end
cause they could sit and eat,
and talk with their best friend
© 2000 Steve Dirksen
This poem appeared in ReadTheWest, August 2000
Read more of "California Steve" Dirksen's poetry here.
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