Cowboy Poetry: Jim Steele

Jim passed away on February 19, 2001 in California. He was only 41. Jim and his poetry will be sorely missed.

Vaya con Dios, Pardner

If My Hat Could Talk

I wish my old John B. could talk.
It'd tell you of days gone by,
Of days pure fun and days pure hell,
All long gone to my mind's eye.

You'd hear of rain that fell in sheets,
And wind that blew and blew,
The joy of feeling the campfire's heat,
When a winter day's work is fin'ly through.

This hat knows days of a million smiles,
And days of nary a one.
The feeling of settin' on the back of my head,
When at last a hard job's done.

It knows the story of my wife's first kiss,
And her two-step wedding dance.
It hid my eyes the night I cried,
'Cause she gave me a second chance.

It got soppin' wet from the inside out,
On a day of buckin' hay.
It gets mournful when it's swapped for the black,
'Cause a good friend passed away.

I've heard it "yelp" when it's slapped on a bar,
When the time comes to take a stand.
And I swear, by golly, I've felt it smile,
When I'm shakin' an old friend's hand.

It'll never forget the steam and the patience,
When I shaped it up just right.
Nor the night, with worry, I 'bout wrung it to pieces,
You see, my boy was born that night.

I've thought of throwin' it away sometimes.
I'd look fine in a brand new hat.
But that'd be like abandoning a friend,
A damn good friend at that.

So, I s'pose I'll keep this battered gray lid,
Until my days are through.
And, when I die, please bury it with me,
I'm sure my hat would want that, too.

A Good Friend

The world blessed me with a trusted friend;
He's one I'd never trade;
For all the money or horses on earth;
'Cause to me, he's "Custom Made."

He'll always tell me when I do something right;
And gently warn me when I'm wrong;
He'll grimace when I miss a note;
But he still wants to hear the song.

He lifts me up when I'm feeling blue;
When I'm cocky, he knocks me down;
Mistakes of the past are long forgotten;
He's just great to have around.

He can laugh with me or cry with me;
He usually knows which one to do;
He's always there, right where I need him;
To help see my troubles through.

We're close enough to disagree;
On how the world is goin';
And, ya' know, when we're on different sides;
I still feel the friendship growin'.

So, come over here and meet this guy;
The closest friend I ever had;
He's known to the world by a thousand names;
But, me, I just call him, "Dad."

Cowboy Heaven

I stared at the sky one moonless night;
At the stars so far away.
I started thinkin' what Heaven's like;
If it's done the "Cowboy Way."

The air will be clean, crisp and cool.
The sky will stretch the eyes.
Big, green trees will throw some shade.
Good grass will be waist high.

Stout buckskins horses will be all around;
Mixed with plenty of good bays;
And "lineback" duns for those who like 'em;
Some sorrels, even some grays.

Saddles will be on "Association" trees;
With enough of the "Modified;"
You won't see nylon, in fancy colors;
For sure, they're made of cowhide.

Even new ropes will be well "broke-in;"
They'll never twist around.
They'll always be just long enough;
To catch the cow you've found.

Spurs will be made by Garcia;
With the silver all a'shine.
Jingle-bobs will play your favorite song;
"Saddle music" to please your mind.

Hats will all be 20X;
Hand made by Mr. John B.
Most all will be silver belly;
But the color you want, you'll see.

The sunrise will be beautiful everyday;
With plenty of work to do.
The sunset will always wait;
'Til all the work is through.

Just enough cold, so you'll feel alive;
Enough warm to ease the bones;
Enough rain to make the grass tall;
Enough dry to call it "home."

Lots of friends to have a drink with;
And tell the same old stories;
To laugh at all your silly mistakes;
And treasure all your glories.

For sure, some chores will be difficult;
Some trails mighty rough;
'Cause cowboys like to prove they can "take it,"
When the "goin'" gets kinda tough.

I sure hope there's a "Cowboy Heaven;"
For when my days are done.
And the more I hope, the more I know;
That, truly, there really is one.

A Tight Fix for a Cowboy

I parked my car at the ol' dance hall;
Not certain what I'd find;
For sure, cold beer, but with a little luck;
A few dances to ease my mind.

I opened the door a tiny crack;
I just wanted to take a look;
A feeling of fun surrounded me;
One glance was all it took.

The place was full of "regulars;"
The folks I see each week;
But, I had a place to visit first;
So, to the men's room, I'd try to sneak.

Just 3 steps inside the door;
Stood Bill, who'd sold me a horse;
He wanted to make sure "the bay" was ok;
So, I stopped to chat, of course.

Then Patrick handed me a beer;
And slapped me on the back;
I took a swig, my insides said,
"We're fixin' to attack."

I excused myself, said I'd return;
And walked as fast as I could;
But, just 2 tables down, sat my foreman's mom;
I had to behave real good.

I tipped my hat, "Nice to see you."
She began to tell a story;
I tried to hear her every word;
But, I had a bigger worry.

I drained my beer, said I'd be right back;
Thought I'd made my get-away;
When a big ol' gal wrapped me up in a hug;
Said, "Have a beer, Jim... I'ts my birthday."

I chatted a bit, not more'n a minute;
'Cause time was startin' to matter;
It's tough to stop and be polite;
With a bad case of "Full Bladder."

I saw my opening as the bar maid moved;
I thought, "Well, now's my chance."
'Til my brother's wife just grabbed my arm;
"C'mon, Jim. Let's dance."

I couldn't say, "No," so we hit the floor;
I danced, but nothing fancy;
I knew better than to get wound up;
Things were already mighty chancey.

I thought to myself, "One dance ain't much;
I can make it through one song."
But to my surprise they played a medley;
That kept going on and on.

I walked her to the table, said a quick, "Goodbye."
And made it to the men's room door;
I pulled it open, Damn! There's a line;
Of at least 12, maybe more.

I'll spare you folks the embarassment;
And end this tale right here;
My manners won't let me tell you anyway;
How I fin'ly got rid of the beer.

But, I'll tell you one thing I learned that night;
That I still remember today;
Before the dance hall, I have a chat;
With a tree just a mile away.

The Country's Goin' Country

The whole country's goin' country
It looks to me these days
Everyone wants wide open skies
And to live in simpler ways

You see CPA's in Stetson hats
And lawyers in snake skin boots
Some are "learning" how to drawl
And "inveting" western roots.

The western's back on the movie screen
And there's horses everywhere
Sortin' cattle is now a sport-
You can win a buckle there

The whole dance floor is filled right up
With "tush-pushers," "achy-breakers" and all
There's nary a man in the whole damn band
Who knows the words to "Cattle Call"

Houses are sprouting on all the hills
Now, won't it be a pity
When they're all there, stuck together
In the middle of a brand new city

But, if you scan the crowd, you just might see
A grinnin', weathered face
With a sweat stained hat, 'n' working spurs
He actually looks out of place

'Cause the country went country 'n' brought along
The crowds, the pollution, and the noise
They're takin' over, it seems they forgot
To leave a little room for cowboys

But, the cowboys know patience
From the life they live everyday
They know that, soon, these city folks
WIll pack their stuff and move away

They've seen it before with the "Urban Cowboy"
And that silly mechanical "bull"
They're sure this craze will just die out
With some undeserving pockets full

When that day comes, there'll be lots of room
On the range and on the dance floor
Boots will be less pricey, hats less scarce
And Wrangler's only from a feed store

'Til that day, he'll set in the corner
And ignore the "Red-Neck" jokes
He'll grin when he thinks of "People Punchers"
Who are herding these city folks.

He's sure, someday, this latest fad
Will surely run its course
There ain't no sense in rushin' it
Or throwin' it out by force

Once again, he'll have the room to stretch
The room to let the cowherd grow
But, surely, there'll be another "cowboy craze"
Just when, he'll never know.

Sunset

    Sunset..... 

          

            A time to think

            To relect on the day's efforts

            While watching the red ball sink. 

        

        

    Working..... 

    

            It's just my way

            Though, what I wanted done and got done

            Aren't exactly equal today. 

    

    Money..... 

    

            That one's easy

            I know I've always had enough to spend

            At least enough to please me. 

    

    Friends.....

    

            I've done good there

            My friends stretch north and south, east and west

            And their images in my mind stay clear. 

   

    Horses..... 

    

            I've known my share

            My balcony seat to the theater of the world

            I always see more from there. 

   

    Family..... 

    

            I conceded

            They know I love 'em, and too, they know

            I ain't comfortable bein' needed. 

   

    Heaven..... 

    

            I see it here

            Everytime the air is clean, the breeze cooling

            The sky so crystal clear. 

    

    Life..... 

    

            It has been good

            I've got regrets, though no great big one

            'Cause I did the best I could. 

The Appaloosa

Gatherin' stock from the mountain sides
You need a special kind of horse,
A mount that moves easy, steps sure-footed
And chooses the safest course.

So, there we were at the foot of the slope
To chase cows that were half mountain goat
Along vistas that just filled the eyes
And along chasms that choked at the throat.

We off-loaded the horses from old rusty trailers
And each got our own saddled up.
Then waited for daylight by building a fire
And fillin', then drainin' a cup.

Jim was a-hollerin', "Where's old Screw Tail?
He's my most reliable ride."
The range boss told him, "Take the appy mare,
I'm sure you'll be satisfied."

"She was raised in these here mountains,
She knows every rock, every crack,
She'll take you wherever you're wantin' to go,
And, in one piece, she'll bring you back."

Ol' Jim hated appies, right to his core,
Called 'em dangerous, flighty and worse.
The range boss said, "Not this appaloosa.
She's likely the world's gentlest horse."

The mare stood still while he got her saddled
Like a statue, not even a flinch.
Waitin' for trouble, Jim knew she'd explode
When he started to tighten the cinch.

She blinked an eye, Jim backed off real quick,
He was sure she was gonna bust loose.
But she just moved her tongue 'round her mouth
Like she was workin' a lip full of snoose.

The mare didn't move, she was almost asleep,
But Jim kept a real cautious eye.
He didn't know what, he didn't know when,
But he knew she was just waitin' to try.

He couldn't avoid it, so he climbed aboard
And walked the appy around.
He still didn't trust her so he kept on a-lookin'
For the biggest soft patches of ground.

She turned just as smooth as fine Chinese silk,
No troubles, not even just one.
The range boss was lookin' when they turned around,
"Do you think we might get some work done?"

Jim was a-smilin', "This mare'll move cattle
As well as my favorite horse can."
He turned for the trail, gave a touch with the spurs,
And that's when the "rodeo" began.

The mare jumped and pitched and bucked like a champ,
Jim hung on for all he was worth.
She fish-tailed and sent Jim high in the air,
Jim waited to crash-land on the Earth.

Tho Jim didn't know, he'd been flung toward a trailer,
His arms and legs all a blur.
His landing was easy, 'cause it was well cushioned
By eight inches of fresh horse manure.

He wiped himself off, straightened his hat best he could
And started cussin' a blue streak of fire.
The Rocky Mountains just couldn't equal
The size nor the range of his ire.

He cussed at our laughter, "You boys lied to me!
You bunch o' mangy, heathenous curs."
The range boss grinned, "Ah, she's a real gentle mare.
Did I mention that she don't like spurs?"

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If you liked the above poetry, please send a copy to a friend. Jim would have liked that.