Farm Wedding
A red barn and white picket fence,
Two corn silos and a chicken coop;
An outhouse that is still standing,
Not far from the backdoor stoop.
When the wind blows, a weather cock
Shows direction from top the house,
While an orange colored barn cat
Sits holding a frightened field mouse.
Bib overalls and a straw hat
Are the only clothes a scarecrow
Wears as it stands a lonely guard
Above corn that�s all in a row.
Amish buggies colored in black,
Parked and waiting for all their clan;
Sweet sounds of music drift along,
As a priest joins woman and man.
�2008, John Taylor
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Snowed In
North wind�s blowing across my ranch,
Bringing bitter weather and freezing the branch.
Have to break the ice so cattle can drink,
Been doing this for years; don't even have to think.
Wearing three layers and a sheepskin coat,
I�ll ride my sorrel after feeding him some oat.
Check the fences for one last time;
Snow storm�s coming, bet you a dime.
Feeling kind of low after being shut in,
Snow�s to the roof so I can�t even grin.
A few western novels I guess I can read,
Cabin fever hitting me, I know what I need.
A trip to town would clear my head
But I can�t get out to go to the shed.
My old pickup probably wouldn�t even start.
Darn, but being snowed in breaks my heart.
�2008, John Taylor
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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The Bunkhouse Is Gone (time to retire)
Left this morning to mend fence,
All was okay and bunk was made,
Spare saddle and boots were shined,
Like I had a personal maid.
The other boys took their turn,
Swept and mopped and washed the dishes.
If I�d known what next happened,
I�d found a star and made three wishes.
Jake, our cook, was fix�n lunch,
When a �coon got in the grub,
It ruined all that we had,
And Jake shot the stove and ole Dub.
Dub, our straw boss, got mad,
He threw a skillet and hit Blue,
Blue, our dog, bit Bill on the butt,
Who swallowed his �backy� chew.
The coals from the stove lit off,
Caught the bunkhouse afire,
Before long there was nothing left,
Just two rolls of barbed wire.
I�ll have to tell ya this much,
Had to get hold of my ire.
But in the end I just smiled,
And said, �I think I�ll retire.�
�2008, John Taylor
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Does A Cowboy Ever Stop?
Does a cowboy ever stop
Being a cattle man?
Can he ever retire
And lay on a beach and tan?
Can a cowboy ever quit,
Riding and roping all day?
If you told him he had to,
What do you think he�d say?
He�d probably say you�re drunk,
Or you don�t really know him,
Think he could ever retire
From what keeps him happy and trim.
A cowboy lives a busy life,
Tending to cattle and such,
He never stops �til he dies,
That would be asking too much.
�2006, John Taylor
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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Western Day
Roses blooming along a creek,
Cactus coloring a canyon that�s no longer bleak.
There�s a screech owl calling for its mate,
An orange sun is setting in evening late.
Listen closely and you can hear
Cattle lowing and walking near.
A distant dog barks into the wind
While cougar kits mew in their den.
A smoky campfire swirls along
As a lonely cowboy sings his song.
His song softly drifts across the way;
So comes the end of a western day.
�2006, John Taylor
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without written permission.
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