Happy New Year!!!

I thought I'd wish everyone a very Happy New Year. To commemorate the event, here's a Cowboy "Toast" I came up with this year. I hope you enjoy it. You can also find it at www.cowboypoetry.com on New Year's Day, 2007.

Cowboy Toast - By Lincoln Rogers, 2006

May a Stetson lie close to your favorite boots,
May a saddle be where you sit.
May you always remember your Western roots,
Full of try and empty of quit.

New Years Resolutions

It's that time of year again. Time to come up with resolutions we're all gonna break by mid-January! I came up with a poem about New Year's resolutions, and thought I'd share it with ya! Best to ya, and Happy New Years! Lincoln

No Resolutions

Lincoln Rogers, 2006

Nature makes no resolutions,
Not as far as I can see.
It doesn’t worry ‘bout the future,
And seems content to let things be.

I don’t suppose a Bull Elk wonders,
How to lose a few more pounds.
I’ll bet a Grizzly never states,
“I’d better put this honey down.”

You think a mare with newborn foal,
Is stressed about her “baby weight”?
Or a wolf takes time to count,
The grams of carbs in what it ate?

Instead of moaning about some shortfalls,
And making lists of things to change.
Instead, birds soar on wings of freedom,
While wildlife roams the open range.

There’s a lesson there to mimic,
Apply it to our daily lives.
It just might make us better people,
Better parents – husbands – wives.

Treat each morning we awaken,
Like a gift for all to see,
‘Cuz nature makes no resolutions,

It’s just the way it’s meant to be.

Merry Christmas, Pards!

Merry Christmas, Pards & Pardettes!

I hope your season is a safe and happy one.

Lincoln

Christmas Cowboy Poem

It's winter time for the animals, and Christmas time for all us Pards and Pardettes. I thought I'd share a Christmas poem I wrote.

God bless and I hope you enjoy.

December’s Trail Home
By Lincoln Rogers, 2003


I hear tell this week it’s Christmas,
At least the Trail Boss says it’s so.
But it’s hard to catch the spirit,
This far from kin and falling snow.

I’ve been ridin’ drag so long,
My sense of smell has been displaced.
From San Antone’ up through the Plains,
Dust and hide is all I taste.

Tin cup of coffee in my grip,
It’s ‘bout the only thing that’s hot.
Out in the grasp of ice-cold wind,
Can’t help but think of where I’m not.

Ma and Pa off in Nebraska,
On their farm of corn and wheat.
They proved up ground with soil so rich,
Like it’d been trod by God’s own feet.

But bustin’ sod was not my calling,
Behind a plow I couldn’t stay.
My folks knew horses ran my veins,
And watched me ride off West one day.

These eyes bear witness to vast prairies,
Running Longhorn o’er the trail.
A saddle and a string of ponies,
Through bright sun, rain, wind or hail.

But this winter campfire has me thinking,
Reckoning what I’m all about.
If some Angel’s came a calling,
Would I even hear their joyous shout?

Would I be like those old shepherds,
In the book of Holy Writ?
Scruffy Pards in charge of stock,
Hearing, “The Christ is born, now git!”

My small fire spitting in its ring,
Its flames undaunted by the night,
Convinces me to make a choice,
My heart affirms that it is right.

“Slim, wake up ya confound varmint,
I’ve got a piece of news to tell.
You know it’s years since I seen kin,
It might be time I rest a spell.

‘Cuz it’s a week ‘til Christmas Day,
And with Nebraska not too far.
If I saddle up old Gunner,
Maybe we’ll find our yonder star.”

I may not be in Isra-El,
And I sure weren’t no wise Magi,
But cantering east away from Slim,
The sting of moisture hits my eyes.

I know my Pards will understand,
‘Cuz I’m a Cowboy through and through.
I’ll join them next month in Salina,
Bearing a soul as good as new.

In the meantime I’ll see family,
That’s what this Season’s all about.
And like those Angels way back when,
The night will hear my joy ring out.

“Ya Gunner, git your hooves a runnin’,
Let’s cross the miles which block our way.
And Merry Christmas to ya boy,
For we’ll be home that Holy day.”