Poetry

Buckaroo Toys by Travis Eklund
Little cowboys
Don’t have the same toys
That kids in the city do.
 
When you live in the hills
There’s no money for frills
You have to learn how to make do.
 
Tagging pliers
A chunk of smooth wire
The teeth from an old hay rake.
 
An old heading rope
A jar of saddle soap
and a worn out rear disc brake.
 
Short halter shanks
And long wooden planks
Aren’t often found in the city.
 
A hay bale fort
Or a broken hay fork
Doesn’t matter if its dirty or gritty.
 
A 2×4 boat
A used water float
An old rusty nail or two,
 
A dirty grease gun
All are great fun
To a pint sized Buckaroo.

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Leatherman Knife and the Water Trough by Edith Wearmouth

My son told this story the other day
He was up on the ridge feeding cattle some hay.

He checked the water. The day was 30 below
He could see his breath and it started to snow.

He had a few adjustments to make
Floats to adjust and ice to break.

He took out his handy Leatherman tool
A handy device by any cowboys’ school.

He tried to pull out the part that he needed
With big gloves on he almost succeeded.

It was then that it happened as quick as a wink
That knife slipped and into the water it did sink.

Well a screwdriver was needed to remove the lid
But the only one around was in the water – well hid.

He scrounged around in his old ranch truck.
There MUST be something here amongst all this muck

That would work to take out the screws of the lid
Nothing was found so this is what he did.

He spied his chain saw in the back of the truck
Right then and there he knew he was in luck.

He started that thing with quite a few tries.
He practiced safe techniques by wiping frost from his eyes.

He revved that thing up and took it to the lid
And cut a great big hole in the wood so he did.

A big hole where he could fit his arm down
And feel and retrieve his knife that had drown.

He got it back fine, his arm was sure cold
And that trough now has one side that’s quite bold.

There’s 5 nice round holes for the cows to drink
And one big crooked hole where the Leatherman knife did sink.

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Washing Machine Woes by Travis Eklund

When he opened the lid of the washing machine
a look of dismay crossed his face.
He saw those white flecks of paper,
and his thumping heart changed pace.

He was sure he had checked his pockets.
His wife said she also had.
But the evidence was there is the washer
and he was trying very hard not to be mad.

Re-writing all of those numbers
was going to be a pile of work.
But he didn’t risk a confrontation,
mainly ’cause he couldn’t cook.

He took a deep breath and put on a smile.
He poured himself a big drink.
He went out to the kitchen and they had a long chat,
about being more in sync.

Their marriage was relatively young
and she was just trying to assist.
Doing a rancher’s laundry
can give any relationship a twist.

It’s been many years since that day
but she will always remember the look.
The look he gave her on that night long ago,
the night she washed his calving book.

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Calf Wrestling by Travis Eklund

“Come on little guy” is what I said
as I wrapped one leg around his head.

He has already thrown me twice
and I was damn sure it wouldn’t be thrice.

This was turning into quite the tussle;
he was born a big calf and had lots of muscle.

I had already flipped him onto his side
and now I ready for a chunk of hide.

I eased the tuber in and down,
ready and set for the next go-round.

He twisted and kicked and tried to escape
but this time I hung on like I was part ape.

His mother was making a very strange sound;
dirt filled the air as she pawed the ground.

She didn’t appreciate my efforts to help
her new-born offspring who was short on milk.

When his belly was full I turned him loose.
He shot off the ground like I had given him a goose.

For a hungry calf he had a lot of vigor.
I’m just glad he wasn’t bigger!

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Preg Check by Edith Wearmouth

We were working cows one day in the fall
Things were going real good. Then we heard that call.

“Be Ready” was the shout from the back of the pen
She’s a quick one said one of the men.

So the guy on the head gate had to be fast.
Here comes the cow that was close to last.

Well she pushed right through that latch on the gate
And was out in the pen with a whole bunch of hate.

“Climb the fence” yelled someone. So I turned to flee.
Well that old black cow just wanted to follow me.

She hit the fence as I reached the top plank.
I flipped over the top and landed right on my flank.

I looked up from the ground and saw her hooves fly by
She kicked dirt in my hair and mud in my eye.

Well that was the fall I was red, white, and blue.
Courtesy of cow number two forty two.

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