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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781477268551 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 10/02/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
1967, where he remained until his retirement in 1987. In 1993 he relocated his family to
College Station, Texas, as an employee of Texas A&M University, where he remains today after retiring after another 20 year career. David has been writing since high school, and since
1977 his writing has been directed mostly towards poetry related to his cowboy heritage and experience. He will soon release a book of short stories about his life as a kid growing up in a Pre-Disney Florida.
Read an Excerpt
Poetry of a Florida Cowboy
By David Carlton
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 David CarltonAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-6857-5
Chapter One
During my life I have traveled far and wide, and I have had people ask me, "What is a cowboy?" Some things, all cowboys have in common and some things differ, depending on their environment. With that in mind, I wrote the following. What is a Cowboy?
What is a cowboy?
Let me tell you sir
A cowboy's a man
With a jingling spur
He never walks
But rides a horse
He moves around
As he changes course
His legs are crooked
From a worn out saddle
Some say they're bowed
From sitting astraddle
He seldom bathes
And he usually smells
You would too ...
Living on the trail
A cowboy is master
Of ropes and guns
The guns are for trouble
The ropes are for fun
A cowboy loves
The sky so clear ...
After all it's his home
Year after year
He loves the grass
It's shimmering sheen
The brown dry summer
And the green of spring
What is a cowboy?
Let me tell you sir ...
He's a kind hearted man
Whose company I prefer
Most people recognize cowboys as being from out west, but all cowboys share a kinship, regardless of where they are from. Regardless of where a cowboy might work, a couple of times per year, the cattle must be gathered and worked. Calves have to be branded for identification, and bull calves have to be castrated. This working of cattle, before fence laws were enacted, required that cow crews go to where the cattle were. Cattle had a tendency of establishing their own favorite grazing territory. A chuck wagon became the cowboy's home away from home, while the cattle were being worked. The next couple poems describe cowboy life when the wagon was out.
Cowboy's Life
Silver spurs upon my feet
A John B. on my head
A saddle for my pillow, and
A blanket for my bed
The stars they sparkle in a violet sky
With dew upon the ground
A coyote howls his mournful cry
It's a haunting weary sound
I hear my pony munching grass
As he hobble hops around
Trying to fill an empty belly
With some grass that he has found
The cattle are bedded on the upwind side
Scattered across the ground
I hear the singing of the night rider
As he slowly makes his rounds
I think of the pleasures I left at home
And wonder about my wife
Such are the thoughts of a lonely man
Who has chosen a cowboy's life
Southern Cowboy
I roll out of my bedroll
At a quarter till five
I pull on my boots
It's good to be alive
I rope me a pony
From my little ranch string
By the time he is saddled
The breakfast bell rings
I eat till I'm bloated
That tasty ranch chuck
I crawl on my pony
To see if he'll buck
On this day I'm lucky
I don't have to mount twice
We leave the camp easy
Like walking on ice
The sun starts climbing
And shedding some light
It's a hell of a day
And a long time until night
My pony is sweating
With no water to be found
The grass is all dry
And a pale shade of brown
We drive the herd easy
It'll be a long day
We have a long way to go
Before we earn our pay
With roping and branding
Your back starts to ache
It seems like a month
Since the last time you ate
Finally ... old Cookie
Starts ringing his bell
You shovel it down
This life is pure hell
You change your tired pony
For a fresh one ... you see
You'd give half a month's pay
For a cool Southern breeze
It's back to the herd
And working again
You're half way to sundown
And then you'll turn in
The afternoon's no better
Up until three
When over the horizon
The clouds you can see
They're rich and they're black
And moving real fast
You can see lightning flashing
But you know it won't last
You forget about the heat
With a chill in your blood
You feel the cool breeze
That precedes a bad flood
The rain really pours
The lightning so bright
You hold the herd steady
It's getting dark as night
Then rain finally passes
The sun shining down
The cows are splashing
And milling around
When the branding is over
You're muddy and cold
The foreman starts cutting
The cows to be sold
When the cutting is finished
You let the herd go
You're aching all over
From your head to your toes
The ride back to camp
Is silent and slow
The sun in the West
Is a cherry red glow
You pull off your saddle
And rub you pony down
The supper bell's ringing
It's a heavenly sound
The biscuits are fluffy
Though cooked in a pot
The meats cooked real tender
The beans spicy hot
You roll in your bedroll
And pull off you boots
Off in the distance
You hear an owl hoot
The whippoorwill's calling
His voice sweet and clear
You wish for a lady
To hold and be near
Another day's over
You're tired to the bone
The stars and the heaven
Are the roof to your home
It's a hard life for sure
And though you'll die young
You'd rather die happy
In the hot Southern sun ...
Back when our ancestors were building this country, the average cowboy didn't have a lot to do for recreation or pleasure. Even in rural Florida, cow town's provided what entertainment they could. Other than a shave and a haircut, a bottle of booze and a town dance, there wasn't a lot else for a lonely cowboy to do.
Female companionship was sometime available, until the town mothers decided it was time to run that sort of painted lady, far away from the men in her life.
It wasn't often that payday rolled around, and when it did, many a lonesome cowboy headed for the nearest watering hole, looking for any type of fun he could find. Arcadia was one of the cow towns in Central Florida that earned a rough reputation. Even Frederick Remington, during his only visit to Florida, noted for Harpers Weekly what a wild place Arcadia was.
One thing that was common in any cow operation was that cowboys worked when it was time to work, and raised hell when it was time to let the wolf howl. The cow boss didn't necessarily like it, but it was easy for him to forgive these wild sons of nature. The following poem is based upon those fun times.
Cow Town Jail
Ten days ago he saddled up
And rode old paint to town
To do the things all cowboys do
Whenever time is found
He went to the saloon and the barber too
And then he found a dance
He wanted company, a girl to meet
But he never got the chance
For in the whole town, none were found
That wasn't already wed
So a lonely cowboy with love on his mind
Had nobody to share a bed
It was back to the bar and the whiskey too
To forget the lonely night
As often happens in a cow town bar
He was soon involved in a fight
On Monday morning ... before a Judge
When finally the gavel fell
Ten dollars or fourteen days ...
In a lonely cow town jail
He just rode in and to the barn he went
To pull his saddle down
He's ready to ride for the brand again
Until his next trip to town
On June 25 and 26, 1876, on the banks of the Little Bighorn, Crazy Horse and Gall lead about 1800 warriors in defense of their village. Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, known as Yellow Hair to the Sioux, defied his commander's direct orders and chose to attack the Indian village ahead of the main force. Custer was seeking the glory that would get him elected as the next President of the United States. Custer divided his force of 700 men and made his attack without his unit being at full strength. Five of his companies were annihilated and Col. Custer himself was killed, as were two of his brothers, a nephew, and a brother-in-law. Total U.S. deaths were 268, including scouts, and 55 were wounded. It is with these facts in mind that I wrote the next poem.
Custer
Custer led the 7th
In glory and in fame
The Indians knew him as Yellow Hair
They didn't know his name ...
Upon the morning ... into the draw
He led his brave young soldiers
Their death and destruction is his to carry
Square upon his broad dead shoulders ...
Driving herds of cattle over long distances was always a challenge. Keeping cattle under control at night, while resting horses and men, was always dangerous work. A night rider watching cattle on a bedding ground had to be prepared to ride for his life at the drop of a pin. The next two poems are based upon this fact.
Night Rider
The moon is up and the cattle rest
As you slowly make the rounds
The only thing on a night riders mind
Is the normal bedding sounds
The cattle are slowly chewing their cud
As they lay upon the ground
You skirt the herd and sing real low
As you slowly ride around
In the distance you hear a coyote sing
His haunted crying song
You hope he keeps a mile away
As you slowly ride along
It doesn't take much to make them run
Once they've bedded down
Just about anything out of place
Can send them all to town
Stampede
The night riders were posted
The camp was really quite
It's the way of the cowboy
On a cloudy stormy night
When out on the prairie
"Stampede" was the cry
The earth began shaking
With flashes in the sky
The cattle were all running
With lightning all around
It started kind of sudden
From a clashing kind of sound
After half a night of torture
With death all around
The cattle began to circle
And began to slow down
The ponies were all winded
And sucking air real fast
The storm was finally over
Cause they never seem to last
Another night has come and gone
The night is really quite
It's the way of the cowboy
On cloudy stormy nights
I sometimes like to take ideas from friends, and as a challenge, write a poem about what that idea inspires. A friend of mine sent me a picture of a cowboy silhouette, painted black, leaning against a fence post at the entrance to a ranch. It was one of those crafty type things that on first impression looked kind of like a real man standing in the shadows. The following poem is based upon what the image inspired.
Shadow
Some people call me "Shadow"
As I stand against this rail
Let me miss just one visitor
And see who catches Hell
I don't work hard, it's just the hours
When you're standing here alone
I see them in, them see them out
And can't wait until they're gone
My pay is weak and my back is strong
I don't do this for the praise
But if I stick around a few more years
I'm hoping for a raise
Until that day I'll do my job
And welcome those who pass
And if they don't wave and say hello
I'll tell them to kiss my ass ...
Another challenge came from an old friend in Wyoming. This challenge was in the form of a cartoon. An old cowboy was standing in a drug store, and a Pharmacist was standing across the counter from him. The following poem was based upon what was being said.
The Bag
An old cowboy dropped in one day
To the local Rexall Drug
He wore a battered Stetson hat
His whiskers as thick as a rug
Three condoms sir, the cowboy said
I just rode into town
I'll only be here for a short spell
With this lady that I found
Do you need a bag, the pharmacist asked?
Even though there was only three
The cowboy said, no thank you sir,
She's not that ugly to me
The following poem is about the simple pleasure I feel when I'm riding a horse. I've had horses blow up under me, and that brings on a different type of feeling, but on a good day, when I'm on a good horse, this is what I feel.
The Ride
To feel the power between my knees
The feeling is really neat
The pulsing muscles, the throbbing flesh
As the body releases heat
There is a feeling that stirs my mind
It's really hard to describe
As I mount a horse on a summers day
And take him for a ride
The smell and feel of the saddle I ride
As my pony tries to please
The sun on my back, the wind in my face
And my tensions finally ease
I was sitting on my patio with a hot cup of coffee when this verse came to me. I now live in the city, and it's a condition I'm not totally happy with, but it's important to my job.
Morning
I sit here on this patio
With my first hot steaming cup
Not the typical place a cowboy
Watches the sun come up
This city life is getting old
The sounds they drive me crazy
Even though I'm getting old
I know that I'm not lazy
I reminisce about the past
The memories I hold dear
Even though I'm far away
The memories are still so clear
So, I start each day while looking east
I watch as the sun comes up
This old cowboy ... just sitting here
With his hot and steaming cup
Not long ago, I was very pleased to see my poetic cowboy idol, Baxter Black, on the cover of Western Horseman magazine. Baxter is one of the reasons I started specializing in cowboy poetry. His ability to tell a story, either as a short story or poem, helps to inspire me to put pen to paper. I like the way his work makes me feel like I am there. I can relate to the things he writes about.
Baxter Black
Baxter's made the Big Time
He's fulfilled a writer's dream
When he was asked to write a Bio
For Western Horseman magazine
They even took some pictures
Of Old Baxter and his horse
Through fancy words and the usual humor
The story ran its course
Old Baxter is finally aging
And the years are adding up
That old Dog is still making tracks
But not as many as a Pup
He's still in demand to do his thing
And spread his works and whit
He's filled with truth and loads of humor
And a heap of bovine shit
He's worked real hard to reach the top
And satisfy a writer's dream
To see his face and share his life
With a "Big Time" magazine
In the summer of 1965, the rains came daily to South Florida. The canals of the Flood Control District were out of their banks, and cattle pastures looked like very large lakes.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Poetry of a Florida Cowboy by David Carlton Copyright © 2012 by David Carlton. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Dedication....................vIntroduction....................1
What is a Cowboy?....................5
Cowboy's Life....................7
Southern Cowboy....................8
Cow Town Jail....................11
Custer....................13
Night Rider....................14
Stampede....................15
Shadow....................16
The Bag....................17
The Ride....................18
Morning....................19
Baxter Black....................20
Beast....................22
Bighorn....................25
Boots and Saddles....................26
Building Fence....................27
Cook....................31
Devil's Garden....................33
First Bull Ride....................35
Gates....................36
Hard Times....................38
Headstone....................40
High In The Mountains....................41
Too Late....................42
Jessie James....................43
Longhorn's Tail....................45
The Billy Bowlegs War....................48
Mosquitoes....................51
Mr. Bell....................53
Nagging Old Wife....................54
Old Wind Mill....................56
Texas Drought of 2011....................57
On The Run....................59
Rank Bull....................60
Tiger....................63
Treed....................65
The Trail....................68
Epitaph....................69
Border....................70
David's Prayer....................71
Dinner On The Grounds....................72
Christmas Past....................73
Christmas tree Hunting....................74
Everglades....................76
Getting Old....................77
Hard....................78
If Walls Could Talk....................80
Maters....................81
Memories....................82
Old Friend....................83
Plastic....................84
Rain....................85
Stones....................86
Texas in Spring....................88
The Tiki Bar....................89
Then....................90
Touchdown Jesus....................91
The Dash....................92
Fixed....................94
Dust Covered Rider....................96
Fresh Horses....................97
Aunt Mary....................100
Family Tree....................103
Photographs....................104
Closing Remarks....................113