Cowboy Lonesome
Civil War’s end,
myriad men rode out of Texas, west
Cowboys
traversed Chisholm Trail, some of the best
Manifest Destiny
demanded wild adventure be fed
Pushed five
million cattle to yonder Kansas railhead
Young men were
they all, by forty, too old
Chuck-cooks
kept, for the stories they told
No commitment to
tie down an independent breed
An individual
man true to his right-valued creed
Leather
holstered iron swiftly tested his worth
Many fast-gun
egos laid permanent ’neath earth
A fine horse and
hard labor for thirty a month-found
A thousand miles
of wind to a howling coy-ote sound
White alkali
dust turned to thick soup by rains
Romantic era
decaying with the advent of trains
Wonder if that
tamale-senorita down Pecos-way wait
Promised her
true I’d be back; for sure now, I’m late
That’s quite a
wild city, the sign read: “Abilene”
“Hoorah!” the
danger-town, toughest I’ve seen
It sure went
quick, my hard-slaved three-month pay
Painted-pretties,
watered-whiskey; to jail, a guest-stay
Back on the
trail, a worn-saddle poor-humble home
No walls to
shelter; a roof, the cold night star-dome
Awfully
difficult it is to confess grievous-sin
Likely I’ll
transgress back to where I’ve been
(Note: Each of my 12-books begins with a
poem that loosely outlines the story)
"Rondo Slade" will be published this year
visit: Amazon books; search: Carl Schuler
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