Poem - Morning Reflection

Hey Pards,

Thought I'd post another cowboy poem on this here blog. I hope you enjoy.

Don't let that horse come home without ya!

Lincoln

Morning Reflection
By Lincoln Rogers


Hello to you my friend, Big Red,
Nice to see you once again.
But I recall a Fall in Denver,
I thought our lives were at an end.

Howdy Slick, it’s been some time,
Since riding drag in dawn’s first light.
It was Montana ’74,
We both survived that dad-gummed fight.

Hats off to you, good steady Jim,
Sure seems like you’ve been gone awhile.
Despite that night in Abilene,
Our escapades still bring a smile.

It ain’t a pleasure, old Black Jack,
I reckon your presence will have to do.
Those frozen thoughts come of Salina,
Whenever I’m forced to think of you.

Rocky, I can’t believe you’re here,
I’d plumb forgotten your stature tall.
I don’t get back to Cheyenne much,
That Summer with you I done seen it all.

I swear I can’t compare, Buddy Boy,
The year we spent in San Antone’.
But the hour you took your leave of me,
I’ve never felt so all alone.

Sweet Rose, I’ve not forgotten you,
Or our slice of life in Kansas West.
Though a time or three we disagreed,
It’s worth admittin’ you were the best.

A silent crowd in mute attendance,
Ignored my voice in the early sun.
They spoke no answer to my face,
Merely held my attention one by one.

No folks assembled in the room,
And for my tongue there was no hearer.
Just a Cowboy recollecting ponies,

While examining scars in a full-length mirror.

Rodeo Poem - Following the Fire

Image copyright, Lincoln Rogers.

All images on Lincoln Rogers' Blog are the property of Lincoln Rogers and may not be copied and/or disseminated

without written permission from Lincoln Rogers.

Following the Fire
By Lincoln Rogers, © February, 2003

My diesel stopped its progress,
When I finally made Cheyenne.
I’d come to conquer buckin’ bulls,
Not be some average also ran.

But time has ways of passin’,
Leavin’ lines upon a face.
And a star that once rose fast,
Can fade away without a trace.

Now I’ve seen my share of bad wrecks,
Been “freight trained” and “kissed the bull”.
But there ain’t no rush to match,
When that eight seconds reaches full.

It’s like ridin’ on the thunder,
While the world around you shakes.
There’s flashin’ horns and lightnin’ hooves,
And the ground below you quakes.

A raging beast spins like a cyclone,
Bringing fury straight from Hell.
If you don’t bear down that honker,
He’ll throw you right into the well.

You just might maybe draw a dink,
Or get yourself an honest bucker.
But when one swaps ends or sets you up,
A man can look just like a sucker.

Just then that hard Wyoming wind,
It jerked me from my reverie.
And faded Wranglers made the trek,
To where I’d pay my entry fee.

It’s a fire that’s deep inside me,
Burning high for each go-round.
The day that sees me stop competin’,
You’ll have to plant me in the ground.

I don’t expect much understanding,
Since it’s true I’m past my prime.
But if those young guns take me lightly,
I just may grab the purse this time.

Poem - Ain't About Me

Image copyright, Lincoln Rogers. All images on Lincoln Rogers' Blog

are the property of Lincoln Rogers and may not be copied

and/or disseminated without written permission from Lincoln Rogers.

Hey Pards,

I figure it's about time for another poem. This one is entitled "Ain't About Me", and was written in 2003 by yours truly. I hope you enjoy.

Ain’t About Me
By Lincoln Rogers, © 2003

Reckon I figured it out,
while my soul was at rest,
a truth from the quiet,
planted deep in my chest.

It came as I walked,
in the midst of the land,
as my proud sight surveyed,
what I’d worked with my hands.

Then I heard a hawk’s call,
watched an Elk leap my fence,
and in sharing that moment,
realized I was dense.

Down the hill horses ran,
cattle grazed far away,
I smelled the sweetness of earth,
and felt the sun of the day.

It ain’t about wire that’s straight,
or hay and crops that I’ve grown.
Nor a large house and barn,
or how much livestock I own.

It’s about what’s inside,
who the Good Lord made me to be.
You see, the ground where I stood...
wasn’t put there by me.