All my life I'd been a rider, all my life I'd known
The day would come when my skills would tame the Untamed Colt
It's not a matter of derision, fear or arrogance
Rather a clash of will and fate which affords no second chance

Past conquered mares and broken fillies I rode tall in the saddle
Like a warrior of the reins heading out to battle
My abilities had reached fruition and their destiny
Led a trailhorse to the Cliffs of Tempestuity

I searched the fields of fury, nearly chose to leave
When like a roll of thunder blazed a swift and graceful beast

Strong and proud and fortified, eyes as black as pitch
Muscled quarters woven with a tailor's seamless stitch
A mane that shines by design should the moon be whole
This untamed blend of quintessence could only be The Colt

I stood in awe as he faded with the August night
Catching my breath like a child awoken with a fright
Broken, have I, hearts of stone and wills of tempered steel
But none compared to the bastion The Colt would soon reveal

I spent the morning hours tracking hoof prints to the cliffs
Where far below spread a lake of purity and depth

Wide and cool and sanctified, color clear as day
Jutting ridges hanging like a gallows guilty prey
A grassy knoll high in the sky, fresh as a newborn foal
This untamed land of quintessence could only be The Colt's

Alone I faced The Colt with the tools of trade in hand
A breaker's pride, a rider's heart, the will which fills a man
In a flash my whip had slashed a crimson stripe of hide
And In return the horse's charge sent me through the sky

I landed hard then quickly sank with a tender memory
For though I called myself a rider I'd never swam the sea

Tall and true and radiant, her skin a golden hue
Chiseled features sculpted with a craftsman's polished tool
A mane that flows as if it knows the stream of southern skies
This untamed heart of quintessence left me without a bride

A cowboy never looks behind when riding at a canter
Nor does he waste his timbre should sorrow fill his banter
Dead to rights I lost my love, away the course she set
Not unlike the horse whose pain I now regret

I set my sins in order, my conscience was appeased
When like a ball of thunder crashed the brave and selfless beast

Strong and proud and fortified, eyes as soft as love
Muscled quarters sweeping me to the nearest bluff
A mane that strained to retain a rider's timid hold
In quintessential repentance I'd been saved by The Colt

When I awoke I found my savior next to me
Kneeling like a trailhorse weighed with saddlebags of feed
Yielding trust I mounted, he shot off like a flare
Kicking dust as if his instinct sought a distant mare

Upon the horse I rode the fields, the cliffs, the gentle sands
Rushing through the forest with The Colt at my command

Wide and cool and sanctified, the peace of days to come
Jutting ridges hanging for a wild streak now undone
A grassy knoll high in the sky with fences built to hold
In quintessential victory I left a broken colt

My claim secure to The Colt's untamed legacy
I led my trailhorse from the Cliff's Of Tempestuity
But once home I realized failure ruled my course
For like a tin horn I had no clue of how to break a horse

My love returned and like the Untamed Colt I planned her capture
But she seduced my rider's pride and set me out to pasture

Tall and true and radiant, her skin a weathered brown
Chiseled features made complete by a smile which never frowns
A mane that flows as if it knows desire held inside
This quintessential innocent agreed to be my bride

All my life I'd been a rider and this I surely know
A cowboy hasn't skill to break a maiden or a colt
For when I looked to see the things I had tamed inside her
I realized the horse had forever tamed the rider

Out of the west The Colt did stroll then knelt before my bride
To his back I lifted her then upon him gently climbed

Strong and proud and fortified, eyes like dark medallions
Muscled quarters straining to be a quintessential stallion
As sunset dipped below the cliffs we approached the grassy knoll
Where a rider and his maiden would raise the Untamed Colt

Copyright © James Grayford

James Grayford and his daughter Sadie spend most of their time in the Southwest. When not chipping away at poetry, James writes screenplays while Sadie sings and presents him with proficient, and numerous, artwork. They can be contacted directly via email at: jamesgrayford@lycos.com.

Now Rose and I are the best of friends,
and that's nice when you're man & wife.
Seems like that's how things aughta be,
when ya married up for life.

To love, honor, and obey,
was what she promised always to do.
Now I think that's the way a wife aughta be,
it's a proven method tried and true.

Now we've got along great for many years,
to me things just couldn't have been much better.
Now you may find this hard to believe,
but there's come a real change in the weather.

She never did complain too much,
but once I did hear her kind of grovel.,
When I surprised her with her anniversary gift,
It was a brand new, . . .long handled diggin' shovel.

Once I even bought a little servant's bell,
so I wouldn't have to strain my voice.
She could have me call, . . . or ring for her,
now that's what I call giving her a choice.

Well then we had us a bad argument,
now that sure wasn't the way.
To see her so angry kinda made me sad,
but her mad seemed to be here to stay.

Now shortly before the fussin' was over,
She did come to me on her hands and knees.
I figgured she'd say something pleading, . . .
like maybe something that ended up with, please.

But she stated what was on her mind, . . .
and she shouted it as loud as you can.
She said, . . . "Rudy you come out from under that bed,
and stand up and fight like a man!"

Copyright © Rudy Gonsales

Rudy Gonzales is a professional cowboy poet from Idaho. In addition to making a living as an entertainer and running a horse ranch in Idaho, he is the Publisher of The American Cowboy Poet Magazine. Rudy is the Founder and Director of the Original Idaho State Cowboy Poetry Gathering. His poetry is also available on cowboypoetry.com.

Wyoming born and
     Wyoming raised,
I'm Wyoming proud
     and I'll sing her praise.

She's had her share of history
      pass through her lands,
cattle barons and railroad workers
     Indians and outlaw bands.

They've all been proud
     to call her home,
they've invoked her name
     in song and poem.

From the plains of the east
     to the mountains out west,
there's nowhere else quite like it
     she's simply the best.

Her memory stays with you
     wherever you go,
haunting your mind
     and touching your soul.

If you visit her once
     you'll visit her twice,
Wyoming - it's not just a name
     it's a way of life.

I've tried to leave her
     but I always come back,
there's just something about her
     that other states lack.

Maybe it's the mighty Tetons
     and Jackson Hole,
or Yellowstone Park
     that takes it's toll.

Perhaps it's the Red Desert
     or Hole-In-The-Wall,
or Cheyenne Frontier Days
     The Daddy Of 'Em All.

And then there's Cody
     and the Wind River Range,
or the wide open spaces
     of the sagebrush plains.

What about the hot pools of Thermopolis
     or the beautiful Flaming Gorge,
and don't forget Devil's Tower
     and Fort Laramie of the Indian Wars.

She's also the home
     of the Arapaho and the Shoshone,
a prouder, fiercer people
     the world has never known.

And then it's three cheers
      for dear ol' U-Dub,
the Brown and Gold flies proudly
      in the skies up above.

I could go on forever
     about this state where I live,
I'd tell you all about her
     and what she's got to give.

But my favorite thing about her
     isn't something I can explain,
It's just a feeling I get
     when I've been away.

You see, no matter where I may wander
     or how far I may roam,
Wyoming's always ready and waiting
      when it's time for me to go home.

Copyright © H.J. Peterson

H.J. Peterson, or "Jerry" as he is known to his friends is currently a senior attending the University of Wyoming in Laramie. He is majoring in Broadcasting and plans on graduating in the spring of 1998. Jerry has lived in Wyoming since 1982, and graduated from Laramie High School in 1988. After a stint in the U.S. Navy as a Gunner's Mate, Jerry returned to Laramie to obtain his college education. During his summers, Jerry has worked as a wrangler at Jackson Lake Lodge in the Grand Teton National Park, and he has also worked as a wrangler at the Vee-Bar ranch in Laramie. In addition, Jerry spent a short time as a Vet Tech for Monfort feedlots in Yuma, Colorado. Jerry has completed one book of cowboy poetry, entitled, "Real Cowboys Don't Line Dance", and is currently searching for a publisher.

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