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The Horseman

Around he flew with nostrils flared,
Rearing and leaping as the man just stared.
Quickly and calmly with mental gauge,
He measured the animal's fiery rage.

"This horse ain't mean, just pushy and scared.
His owner never taught him, never really cared."
He spoke those words, then grabbed his rope,
Threw it, braced, and stopped the lope.

"The fear made him a bully; he has to strike first,
I've seen others like him, he ain't the worst.
I'll take the fear from him and teach him to trust.
He'll have to get rode, that part's a must."

Heaving and sweating, muscled up tight,
The horse glared at the man and was ready to fight.
The man fell silent, his eyes were intense,
Of what happened next it was hard to make sense.

Part battle, part dance, sweet caress, elbow grease,
The man applied pressure, then gave release.
Horse and man spoke with no words, not a sound,
"Come," said the man with a glance toward the ground.

The horse came and stood, licked his lips, heaved a sigh,
"Now that's a nice change; that's a good try."
The man led the horse to its rest, to its hay,
There was more work to be done, but not for that day.

To travel the road to success takes some guts.
The road can be long, and there ain't no shortcuts.
Then to me he said in a quiet aside,
You'll be fine, just look up and try to enjoy the ride.
A tribute to Mr. Ed Chambers
Written by Debra Meyer
                               2008
I am humbled and deeply touched .... thank you.
                                                              Ed C.
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These poems published on the
Cowboy Poetry website

The Evenin’ Feed

The sun is sinkin’ lower and the sky is streaked with red,
It’s time to gather in the herd and get them horses fed.

Before the feedin’ can be done, stall muckin’ must commence,
A hungry cavvy gathers up, awatchin’ at the fence.

They stomp and neigh and whinny; cause they want the job done quick,
I whisper words of patience, but that never does the trick.

I fill the water buckets, and the shavin’s are replaced,
But still they make a ruckus to insure that I make haste.

“Hush now,” I softly tell them as I throw the flakes of hay,
“I’m comin’ out to get you soon, so back on out the way.”

I walk the horses one by one; the young mare wants to trot,
But finally, I have them in--the whole entire lot.

I let them ease their hunger on the hay so fresh and sweet,
I grain each empty bucket, then my feedin’ chore’s complete.

I scramble up the stacks of hay to watch the horses dine,
To me the quiet munchin’ makes a music mighty fine.

I breathe in the heady fragrance of leather, horse and hay,
If made into a perfume, I would wear it everyday.

Contented sighs are frequent, and they fill my heart with glee,
I know there is no other place that I would rather be.

I hear the evenin’ serenade and thank the Lord, of course,
For puttin’ on this earth of His, that wonder called a horse.
I wrote this poem as an expression of
the feelings I have after my last chore
is done, and I am free to enjoy the
companionship of my horses. The
satisfaction of hard work and the joy
of having contented animals is one of
the greatest pleasures in my life.

                                             Debra Meyer
                                                     2008