Showing posts with label cowboy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cowboy. Show all posts

Tuesday

A-Wayne Out West

A-Wayne Out West


Although I already posted to this limerick prompt, it surely does not seem fair to omit these “Waynes.” Thieves and rascals, best be on the lookout for these two!


Horsing Around with Wayne


There once was a fellow named Wayne

Who rode with the rope and the rein.

And it was no fluke

We knew him as Duke.

This cowboy could sure entertain.


Wayne Manners


There once was a fellow named Wayne,

A secret identity swain.

He’d race to the task

With cape and with mask,

For Gotham’s security gain.


Posted for:

Easy Street Prompts (“thieves and rascals)

Mad Kane (“There once was a fellow named Wayne . . .”)


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Sunday

The Heartless Soul

The Heartless Sole


Little Cowgirl

By Mary Davis – Artme

Used by permission.


The Boot Salute –

A Quatrain Mix for More Than Kicks


Some swashbucklers suppose they’re smart.

They act as friends, then break your heart.

Let language be most absolute –

No subtleties: give them the boot.


A friend more genuine, you know,

Will listen closely, toe to toe.

No languid promises unkept,

Nor boundaries yet overstepped.


May truth arise, that we discern

Which bonds to keep and which to burn.

Will we reboot and still remain

With those who will our friendship feign?


Kick up your heels. Do not delay.

Souls insincere may slip away.

For such, we need not ballyhoo.

Just whisper as you leave them, “Shoo!”


Posted for a variety of prompts:


AC (A Clothing Quatrain)

Easy Street Prompts (“swashbucklers”)

One Single Impression (“one word”)

Poetic Asides (April P.A.D. Challenge: “interaction”)

Read Write Poem (NaPoWriMo - “if she were really your friend”)

Sunday Scribblings (“language”)

Weekend Wordsmith (“languid”)


Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.


Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.


Throughout 2009, please join us at The Heart of a Ready Writer, a Bible reading and devotional blog, as we read through the entire Bible in chronological order.


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Wednesday

Sojourners


Here's this week's entry for Three Word Wednesday’s prompt on “empty,” “highway” and “ignored.”

Sojourners

We rode along beribboned curls,
Abandoned by titanic girls.
A broken stripe, it marked the pace,
As we tore up the empty space.

My maned companion, Zanzibar,
He carried me to lands afar.
His hoofbeats rattled in discord,
On silent pathways, thus ignored.

The highway, kept to us alone,
A sweet long-distance chaperone,
As there we journeyed, shore to shore,
To leave our home forevermore.



Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Click here for Sojourners. Or click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

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Monday

Caught to the Quick – A Rhymed Retelling of a Photo Most Compelling


(Written upon request of One Single Impression’s “stranded” prompt, Read-Write-Poem’s “aunt” prompt and Sunday Scribblings’ “photo” prompt)


Caught to the Quick –
A Rhymed Retelling of a Photo Most Compelling

Digging through a dusty pile
In the attic, made me smile.
There, a photo of Aunt Mae
Took my every breath away.

In the image was my kin,
Stuck in quicksand, to her chin.
Sinking slowly, ever deeper,
Aunt Mae met the old Grim Reaper.

To my shock, I knew the truth.
Folks had lied throughout my youth.
Poor Aunt Mae, the little dear,
Died not from a flu severe.

Mae had fallen for a man,
With a frontier purchase plan.
Leaving all at his behest,
She had followed him out West.

They had quarreled by the fire;
He departed, rotten liar.
Mae hitched up the wagon team,
Then she heard an eerie scream.

The horses fled; the wagon tipped.
Mae lost her footing, and she slipped.
In the mire, my Auntie kicked,
But not before a camera clicked.

Now, in the attic, I was shocked
To learn how Aunt Mae’s world was rocked.
Her secret romance, journey planned,
Was stranded there in deep quicksand.



Love poetry? Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

Click this link for “Caught to the Quick - A Rhymed Retelling of a Photo Most Compelling.” Or click here to subscribe to an RSS feed for this writer's helpful Helium content. If you wish, click here for a free subscription to this author's online AC content, so you won't miss a single post!
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Sunday

His Perfect Passion


(Upon request for Sunday Scribblings.) 

His Perfect Passion -
A Rhyming "Whoa" on Love Let Go



"Real cowboys never run. They just ride away."
Traditional Cowboy Proverb


In the ring, the lightning flashed,
As humankind and nature clashed.
His style was rugged, free of fashion;
Peril was his perfect passion.

With fiercest fight, he held on tight;
The mount beneath him took to flight.
He met the ride, a-rolling, crashin' -
Peril was his perfect passion.

She loved him once, but didn't dare
Determine if he'd cause to care.
His heart was held with roped-in ration;
Peril was his perfect passion.

She eyed him often, cutting loose,
Aware they'd come to no good use.
He had no room for kind compassion;
Peril was his perfect passion.

Still, in her dreams, the cowboy rode,
And in her soul, his ember glowed.
But as she'd wake, her heart a-thrashin',
Peril was his perfect passion.

At last, her heart was broken, tamed,
And then her surname changed, reclaimed.
To see the match, his face was ashen,
But peril was his perfect passion.
Copyrighted by Linda Ann Nickerson



Image:
A Bad Hoss
by Charles Marion Russell
1904
Library of Congress/public domain


Monday

It's a Wild Ride: A Poetic Tribute to the Rodeo Cowboy


What is it like, to be a rodeo cowboy? Imagine the dust kicking up all around you, the crowd hollering for your courage and strength, the bronco leaping and bucking beneath you. Take a look, through this adventurous rhymed story.

It's A Wild Ride
A Poetic Tribute to the Rodeo Cowboy


He combs his hair and snaps his shirt;
The yoke will soon be caked in dirt.
He dons his Stetson, bushy-browed,
And saunters out to meet the crowd.

His Wranglers crease to fit his form;
His bronco kicks up quite a storm.
Pitched left and right, he holds the band
And raises high his other hand.

"Dear Father, just eight seconds more,"
He whispers, amid tug-of-war.
"Preserve me now from sudden death,"
He mutters, underneath his breath.

Want to read the rest of the story? Click here to read "It's a Wild Ride."

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