The Poetry of David Carlton
DC
Cowboys go through a lot of boots, ropes, slickers, shirts and blue jeans in doing their job. Hats, chaps, vests and jackets seem to last a little longer. A cowboy’s saddle, spurs and bridles last much longer, but sooner or later even those have to be replaced.
Anyone who has broken in a new saddle can attest to how uncomfortable it is. It sometimes takes a month or two for them to become comfortable with each other. It’s difficult to say what gets broken in, whether it’s the cowboy’s rear end or the saddle, but after a time things finally get comfortable.
Most tack rooms have an old retired saddle or two, just taking up space. In some ways, even worn out saddles can have a new use. Mice and rats like to chew off the wool lining of the skirts to make nice warm nests, and dirt daubers sometimes make their nests on the underside of the old dried up leather fenders. These old retired saddles were once very comfortable, and they were considered to be a cowboy’s rocking chair.
Cowboy Rocking Chair
See that old saddle
The last one on the right
It’s traveled many trails
Between daylight and night
It’s kind of moldy and weak
But the stories it could tell
About bad bulls and broncs
And storms on the trail
It’s not rode anymore
It’s just left on the rack
It’s replaced by a new one
After all, it’s just tack
It don’t have feelings
It’s just leather and wood
The new one is fancy
But not near half as good
It has done it fair share
It’s retired and alone
A cowboy rocking chair
With a barn for its home
© David Carlton 2018
DC
Building Fence
There is a story, that I've been told
That happened long ago
I can't say if it's true or false
Because I really don't know
It's the story of a fence… you see
And how that fence got made
The story begins, or so it seems
Just North of the Everglades
****
Two old wine drunks... the story goes
Were hired to build a fence
Neither one was very bright
Nor, had they any sense
Building fence is manual labor
That takes your breath away
Why those two signed on to work
No one could really say
One was Ike, the other Jack....
Or so our story goes
Neither one was very fast
Their motors, they ran slow
But just the same, they went to work
And left the house each day
A trailer full of posts and wire
A bottle for along the way
Every night when they came home
The two were tired and bloated
The trailer full of posts and wire
The men… they were loaded
****
This kept up for a week or two
Or so the story goes
But like most loafers, they soon were caught
With nothing good to show
Not a post was set it seems
Nor nary inch of wire
The boss got mad, he lost his cool
The drunken fools he fired
****
This is not, or so they say
Where this story ends
The boss he upped and changed his mind
And hired them drunks again
Some of the boys were pranksters you see
Not really meaning harm
They laughed and joked and had a good time
Their life was such a charm
One old boy was round and short
He was just called Chunky
He went to town and purchased a prank
A little brown stuffed monkey
Well, some of the boys decided to help,
The two old drunks build fence
Not a one stayed at the house
Cause none of them had sense
Some brought hammers, and some brought
pliers
Everyone else but Chunky
For all he brought, in a big brown bag
Was a little brown stuffed monkey
The boys chipped in, they went to work
That fence it went up fast
They built a mile in an hour or two
But the sunshine wouldn't last
****
The drunks were asleep, on the wagon it
seems…
And didn't even see
Those good old boys, as they went home
Except one, behind a tree
The one that stayed behind the tree
Was our old friend Chunky
Beside that wagon, on top of a post
He’d placed the little brown monkey
****
The sun went down, the moon came out
The night, it turned so pale
When out in the night, beyond everyone’s sight
There came a ghostly yell
The drunks sat up and opened their eyes
Or so the story goes
The way they left and got back home
No one really knows
I have a feeling that what they saw
Was sitting on a post
But some folks say, by the look on their face
You'd swear they saw a ghost
****
Chunky took that monkey back home
And put him under his bunk
Not wanting to show him to anyone
Especially not the drunks
DC
I‘ve Had It
I’ve had it by a campfire
I’ve had it in my bed
I’ve had it on the kitchen table
I’ve had it in a shed
I’ve had it on an airplane
I’ve had it in a car
I’ve had it while riding a bike
But that didn’t last very far
It had it the front seat
Of a rusty pickup truck
Every time I have it now
I attribute it to luck
I like it hot when daylight breaks
Or sometime late at night
I’ll have it almost anyway
It always turns out right
I like my coffee every way
It makes me warm inside
It helps me to keep going strong
And my brown eyes open wide
© David Carlton 2011
During cattle long cattle drives, a cowboy was often minutes from his own death. After a few days on a drive, the cattle and trail hands all fell into a routine. Once that routine was established, it wasn’t a wise to interrupt it. When the cattle bedded down for the night, they never went to sleep. They laid down on the chest with their heads in the air, and chewed their cud. Once they are bedded down, any strange noise or action can launch them into a full run in seconds.
Night Rider
The moon is up and the cattle rest
As you slowly make the rounds
The only thing on a night riders mind
Is the normal bedding sounds
The cattle are slowly chewing their cud
As they lay upon the ground
You skirt the herd and sing real low
As you slowly ride around
In the distance you hear a coyote sing
His haunted crying song
You hope he keeps a mile away
As you slowly ride along
It doesn’t take much to make them run
Once they’ve bedded down
Just about anything out of place
Can send them all to town
© David Carlton 2017
DC
I am not a drinking man, but have been around a few in my time. It seems like every one, sooner or later, got mixed up during their dating days. I tried drinking in my younger years, but decided it wasn’t for me. After drinking for a while, I was getting to like the buzz, but could never get past the sick feeling that followed. I decided that I did not want to become like some of my friends, so quit drinking anything with alcohol. I will leave this social activity to the rest of you.. With this in mind, I wrote the following poem.
Drinking
She was six pack beautiful
at two in the morning
A fantasy right out of my dreams
But when the sun rose
I opened my eyes
And I tried real hard not to scream
She was pleasantly plump
with plenty of rouge
Her eye lashes painted and long
I eased out of bed
Tip toed out the door
And in a flash I was gone
I keep saying to myself
You got to stop drinking
Things that mess up your mind
I’d have to feel better
Knowing where I had been
And to wake up feeling just fine
© David Carlton 2008
DC
Here is a poem I often use as an inscription inside of my autographed book covers. Sometimes I use only a small portion.
Luck
Keep your toes turned out,
And I'm wishing you luck
Cause sometimes the gentle ones,
Are just liable to buck
Keep a tight cinch
With a hand on the reins
Today's a little chancy,
And tomorrow's the same
The sun comes up,
And the sun goes down
If tomorrow we're lucky,
We'll go another round
I'm wishing you luck friend
In all that you do
May all your horses be gentle
And your sky's always blue
© David Carlton 2013
DC
I was wandering through a local Antique store recently, when I found a small basket of polished rocks. They were rocks of several colors, but most were earth toned in color. Shades of brown and gray were very dominant, but there was one rock in this little basket that caught my eye. It was about the diameter of a quarter, and was a beautiful dark shade of blue, and had patches of white. Though it wasn’t totally round in shape, it was close enough to remind me of some photographs of earth, taken during NASA space missions. Nature is really amazing, if we take the time to open our eyes.
Nature
There are things in Nature that I don’t understand
Like a little blue rock you can hold in your hand
It’s a dark shade of blue with patches of white
The color of oceans and clouds in sunlight
It’s a simple little rock that comes from the ground
But a beautiful part of Nature that someone has found
Though this little rock is not diamonds or gold
The simple beauties of nature, they never grow old
© David Carlton 2016
DC
Here is something that comes to mind every time I go to a grocery store these days.
With elevated beef prices, it is tempting for some ranchers to oversell. They are trying to take advantage of the market before prices fall. If the government will stay out of it, price and consumer demand will balance the books. If the US will restrict importation of South American beef, and give American Cattle producers the necessary time, they will supply our beef demands with good old American Beef.
4 Dollars A Pound
The grass is green and the cattle are fat
A cowman can be happy with conditions like that
The market is up to 4 dollars a pound
With prices like these new investors abound
The elevated prices have reduced herd size
But sooner or later you have to realize
That you can’t sustain the current trend
If you’re not retaining heifers to expand herd size
again
It’s the same old cycle that ranchers must heed
While making some money, being careful of greed
© David Carlton 2015
DC
February 8th is my Daddy’s birthday. Although he is no longer with us, I will always remember what a wonderful father he was.
My Daddy
Half a hundred years ago
I remember as a kid
All the things that passed me by
And the things my daddy did
All night dances at Uncle Bill’s
The furniture in the yard
We played and ran until we dropped
We didn’t know that times were hard
I can still see Uncle Bill with mouth harp in hand
And a guitar on Daddy’s knee
With the oil lamps lit and cornmeal on the floor
They danced sometimes till past three
Daddy would lift us in those big loving arms
And place us gently on the back seat
A long ride home down long sandy roads
The memories are all so sweet
My daddy’s gone now to his Heaven on High
To be with others he loved
But my memories of him will always be strong
While he watches out for me from above..
I love you Daddy…
David
© David Carlton 2017
DC
I found this painting on Facebook last year. The painting is titled “Time for a Lil' Christmas on the Bayou” by Mickey Asche. He is a wonderful artist that does great work featuring South Louisana. Check him out when you get time. I have written the following poem, based upon motivation from this painting. I hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas.
David Carlton
Cajun Christmas
Christmas music on da bayou
By a zydeco band
Brings the Christmas Spirit
Throughout Cajun land
All dem little chilren
Da’s tucked in dair beds
With smells of Christmas gumbo
Dancing all tru dair heads
While out on da bayou
Old Santa’s making rounds
Delivern da presents
Where even reindeer would drown
He switched to his pirogue
An his alligator team
Up around Lafayette
To deliver chilrens dreams
It really don’t matter
Where little children are found
Santa has them included
In all his Christmas rounds
Joyeaux Noel et Bonne Annee!
(Noel joyfully and Happy New Year)
© David Carlton 2015
DC
There seems to be some discussion that comes up each year about tomato sandwiches. With that in mind, I wrote the following poem.
Definition: (ma’ter: southern slang work for tomato)
Maters
One more mater samitch
The dear old lady said
Without some maters on my plate
I just don’t feel I’m fed
I like em ripe right off the vine
So plump and scarlet red
A little mayo spread just right
On both slices of my bread
A little salt across the top
The dear old lady said
Without some maters once a day
I just don’t feel I’m fed
© David Carlton 2010
DC
Cowboy Prayer
Bless me Lord and the horse I’m on
As we ride to meet the day
We were both raised to do our best
We know of no other way
Protect us Lord from the many things
That could go so very wrong
Bless us both as we do our job
We pray that you keep us strong
But when that day comes that my life is done
And this cowboy has breathed his last
I pray that you have plans for my future
And are forgiving about my past
Amen
© David Carlton 2016
DC
A Well Earned Drink
This poem was motivated by a painting by Tim Cox
titled "A Well Earned Drink".
A well-earned drink on a hot dry day
As the sun keeps comes pouring down
Several miles through the brush and thorns
As the cattle are moved around
From California to the Sunshine State
A cow horse is treated the same
He does his job the best he can
In failure he’s not to blame
He’s earned respect for a job well done
He’s a valuable part of a team
He’s the mount we all dreamed about
In our childish cowboy dreams
So take a cool drink and catch you wind
And take this time to rest
Because a cowboy approaches each day
By only saddling the best
© David Carlton 2016
DC
CowboyPoetry.com occasionally has an Art Spur challenge. Poets are asked to write a poem based upon their interpretation of the art work posted. Attached is an example of one of my postings.
Adjustments
"Making Adjustments" shawncameron.com Oil 18x24
Old Bob has gained weight
From the oats he’s been fed
It’s time to make adjustments
For the work that’s ahead
So, I’ll pull up my cinch
As I step to the ground
That belly’s a problem
As both of us have found
When Bob was a colt
All bluster and buck
There ways day upon end
When I prayed for some luck
Bob has finally settled
Into a cow working fool
He’s not only my friend
But a hard working tool
So I’ll make some adjustment
As often as I can
And as a lover of horses
I’m sure you’ll understand
DC
enough