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Cowboy poetry
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A Stallion's Song
His mane and Tail
billow in the wind
as a flag of freedom
which rules his heart within.
He hears the thunder in the sky.
The range calls out his name
to dance that wild dance of freedom,
hoof pounding earth,
and then again
as the dust rises up to follow him.
His band is his prize
won over time
from battles fought and lost
by others of his kind.
Wearily watching
for that fateful day shall come,
the day of challenge
to never be denied.
Yes, another shall come
to take away his prize.
Aged and wise,
scarred from the battles of life,
his purpose lies deep within,
to preserve his kind
till the end of his time,
when another shall conquer him.
Melissa Scott
Dec. 10, 2001
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no name mustang
He's a thousand pounds of pure grit,
I tell ya.
An honest fella
with a heart the size of Texas.
Tough as a pine knot
I'll exclaim,
"ole horse has no name."
Hooves tough as nails
no blacksmith needed
with a coarse head and wise eye
ever so weary of strangers
fickle at times to the point of shame.
"Darned ole horse with no name."
Best ridin and ramblin pardner
I'll tell ya.
Been around since I was a young fella.
Sure footed and quick, I'll claim,
"ole horse without a name."
Wouldn't trade em for another
heck! he's better than a brother
when the time comes
and he passes away
I'll scratch on the rock
at the head of his grave
my ole best friend
"mustang with no name."
Melissa 2001
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