COWBOY POETRY: My Only Rodeo

Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell's life. Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

I watched him pull the latch and then he hollered, “Let ‘em out!” I was gonna learn my lesson of what rodeo’s about.

My so-called friend had taunted me, “Give rodeo a try.” But my grandma’s words were warning me, “You better learn to fly.”

And sure as heck the first buck sent me flying in the air. I guess my dear ol’ grandma knew I’d soon be heading there.

I’ve heard it said that when you bump your head, you’ll see some stars. Or maybe even hear the angels humming blissful bars.

But friend I’m telling you when I came down and hit my head. I heard the angels yodeling. Dang sure thought I was dead.

A myriad of stars were flashing right before my eyes. They were red and green and purple. Were they courting my demise?

My head was pounding like a dozen hammers in my brain. Felt like I’d just been flattened by a runaway freight train.

One cowboy pulled me to the side. He held two fingers up. I swear I saw two fingers, but I babbled giddyup.

The cowboy brushed me off. He said, “Just sit here for a spell.” For once someone with sound advice. He knew I felt like #%&&.

The cutest cowgirl stopped and said, “I know you really tried. And I’m sure you broke a record with your half a second ride.”

Well, I didn’t need her teasing, so I left there hastily. I knew right then that rodeo was not the game for me.

So, fifty years has come and gone since buckin’ off that night. And I’ve only ridden saddle horses, they’re a pure delight.

Sometimes while watching rodeo, it jogs my memory. No wonder I prefer a gentle horse that’s under me.

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