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CULTURED
COWBOY PRESENTS
Cowboy
Poetry
Rodeo
Rider
This
is tribute that truly should, and dutifully could, be true.
Although, you might predict a slight exaggeration, (or two).
A part of bard that can’t resist a partnership with tale,
must make the verse encapsulate, entangle fate, and veil!
It
was in Grapevine, just north above that Dallas Cowboy shore,
the place where city pavement meets the face of cowboy lore.
One short semester’s lodging grew to be a lifelong longing.
A simple dare to just compare an East to Western jaunting.
We
had converged to learn the nerve and sinew of friends equine,
a burley lot whose ambitious trade brought us close to white lines.
Not those of byways; nor lack of sun’s rays; nor snowcaps on mountain
range;
but those of vascular intertwine with hoof’s supportive structure.
As
young men will, these guys devised a friendly pecking order.
Since most interned from panhandle, they spurned those near Atlantic;
after all, historic broad brimmed lore says West, not Carolina!
And we from East reminded West, that fifty came from thirteen.
Coloring
steel by bellows’ coal pit keeps keen eyes aware.
Heads of steel to anvil’s face ring songs while building shoulder.
Working iron with tong and hardy toughens wrist and fist.
While horses ride the legs of men, thin thighs, once pegs, become
trunks.
Such
was the setting of friendly betting: like sailors on a schooner.
Each man able to prove his boast by sinew, skill and lucre.
To refuse a dare, to diffuse refute, would soon ensnare the order;
so when I heard cowboys ride herd, and Easterners ride carousel…
An
ire embarked on twisted trip between the ears of pecked one.
Now truly, all were rousing bouts of rodeo and cattle;
while my extravaganza list consisted of showing horses,
and gaining calm in brains and brawn of spoiled steeds of pleasure.
Thinking
back to hours on backs of ornery bolting colts,
and fillies who would rather jump than wade a shining creek bend,
of times I’d ended upside down, underfoot or under belly,
how could a trip of a few bucks challenge hearts of horsemen?
So
after a time, when the dare reached prime, and challenge insulted me,
a Lubbock fan told the Austin lad he’d pay the entry fee.
Carolina can’t ride. He’s never tried to prove the man he’d be.
SC rides a toy pony. Here,
real men ride wild and free.
So
off we strode to the truck where we rode down 30 miles of trail.
With three in front and more in bed, the laughter continued loud,
until we reached the Jackpot grounds, where they coughed up commitment.
Now, where to go? Pointing at chutes, Oklahoma stumbled in cackle.
Atop
a fence of wire and pipe, I spied the game’s attraction.
A whistle blew when cowboys fell, and horses continued prancing.
Understand, this was indeed, my first rodeo. But I could ride
and ride I would, till the Grapevine group concedes!
Now,
since fifteen, I’d broken horses astride an English saddle.
The Western horn got in my way. Tall cantle seemed a bother.
So when I saw the bucking rigs, I smiled cause they had handles
and nothing else to interfere with serious bronc ransom.
Down
in the chute, I climbed aboard this half-a-ton of horse flesh,
amazed that I would not be made to hold him while I mounted.
When “Danger Dan” rose on his hind, I felt like young Roy Rogers.
And then a guy glanced at my hand, and to my buddies nodded.
Don’t
you have a glove to wear? Do you think I really need one?
Wear mine he snickered. I smiled back, and wondered what he’d been in.
The glove was stiff and smelled like sap. The fingers curled without me.
I thought he’d pulped some fresh cut logs, as I gripped the rawhide
handle.
Remember
you gotta mark ‘em out. What’s that? More bursts of laughter.
Where did you guys get this one from? They, gleaming, said,
“Carolina”.
Lift your feet up on his neck and keep them there till it’s over.
I thought they had concern that I might catch foot in all the furor.
Balanced
on big “Danny’s” top, I watched his ears pin backward.
Nod when yer ready. I rose my head to hear what had been said.
The gate blew open. “Dan” fired high, like an elevated canon.
When “Dangerous” finally crested, the last thing that I heard…
Knees
were slapping, hurrahs and shouting, “Where did he leave his spurs?”
The hooves dove down and planted, braced for Dan’s next festive
thrust.
I threw my right arm to low left to stay upon his body.
This “feet on neck” must be a joke they play on all the “newbies”.
As
Dan jumped higher, in midair, I drew my heels into him.
On ground he twisted, and for reward, I lifted legs to ease grip.
See, I had rode, and I have learned that horses hate displeasure;
if I can be pest to him now, and relief when he does better,
He’ll
stop this bucking, rearing stuff and make someone a good horse.
Dan ran, Dan swirled, Dan jumped to side, but soon with much less
effort.
I grinned as Dan began to trot. I waved toward my cohort.
About that time, a man on horse swung arm at me. I ducked.
I
thought I’d better ride some more to prove Dan disdained bucks.
Leaning toward his inner side, Dan turned. I rubbed his withers.
I took Dan though a lope and jogged him toward the crowded bleachers.
With forward squeeze on ribs, Dan came to halt. A whoa, then I
dismounted.
Pride
swelled inside. I raised my hand and proclaimed, “Carolina” rides!
Well, the grapevine bunch was hollering, ran near and pulled me over.
Let’s go! They said. Get out of here. Why? Can’t you guys ride?
We’ve got to go and go right now. That stock contractor’s mad.
You
went and ruined a bucking horse, and his price is our heads.
I didn’t understand until I seen more rodeo. I thought the object was
to calm, not maintain, through great throws. But, for a shortened
moment,
for instance few would live, I was a rodeo rider. And, I understand the
thrill.
C
Taylor, Jr.
08/31/2003
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