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Gather 'round the Campfire
Cowboy Poetry

Enjoy some of our favorites from 2018

Showers of Blessin’


Can’t beat roaring thunder

Announcing a comin’ shower

And some jagged lightnin’

Showin’ off God’s mighty power


Don’t matter the direction

Northeast or southwest

Swirlin’ and gusty wind

‘Bout to deliver God’s best


You can take them gentle sprinkles

I reckon to some they are nice

But they fall a mile short

Of just what’s needed to suffice


A boisterous Oklahoma thunder boomer

Now, that’s what I’m talking about

Toss in some rapid fire hail at first

And all kinds of precipitation with clout


Overflow the rain barrel

Flood out the corral

Fill up the waterin’ holes

Cloud bustin’ right now


Rain just don’t come easy

Especially way out here

We pray for it to come callin’

And ready when it comes near


Makes no matter if a storm

Kinda destroys the Sunday tea

Give me a frog drownin’ gulley washer

Them’s showers of blessin’ to me


Written by Ron Secoy


Runnin’ Free


They run across the plains,

No fears, no scars and no pains.

Mustangs are runnin’ free,

As far as your eyes can see.


The stallions are bold and strong,

They control the herd and know no wrong.

Their manes flowin’ in the gentle breeze,

As soft as the flight of an Eagle soarin’ that you see.


The mare’s a’gallopin’ behind,

Their coats a’shinin’ in the prairie sunshine.

The foals are frocklin’ around,

As they play in Mother Earth’s big play ground.


They come in black and white and speckled grays,

And many other colors throughout their days.

Not a one noticin’ a difference as they stray,

They jest all get along in their ways.


Runnin’ free, Runnin’ free,

Many have not been tamed by man ya see.

Their free grazin’ not a worry in their strife,

And it’s our Mother Earth that keeps them alive.


So they run across the plains,

In Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter snows and rains.

They’re a gift God put here,

They are runnin’ free out yonder somewhere.


And although some might be caught and sold,

There will always be a gleam in their eyes,

of the wild and the free, that is so bold.


©Michael L. Murphy  2013

*Photo provided by Candy Phillips


Early Morning Gather

The fog of breath in the air

The stomp of feet on a frosty morn

The rattle of bit chains and the mouthing of bits

As the day begins to dawn.


Saddles cinched down tight

Against the hump in your horses back

You're hoping he don't blow up

And give you the sack.


You stamp your feet to get them warm

The jingling of your spurs making their chime.

Chaps buckled up and hat on your head

It about gathering time.


Everybody mounts and for a bit its touch and go

As these broncs unwind their kinks.

They're finally lined out and headed down the trail

The sky beginning to show pink.


Another day riding out to gather

Taking those cows where they don't want to go

It's a life you love like no other

And the pay is just so so.

By Larry Hatfield


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