FEBRUARY 2023
Our monthly Ask a Cowboy Poet column moved from the page to the stage at the 38th National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. During an entertaining and enlightening show at the Elko Convention Center Auditorium, the monthly panelists shared their savvy the oral-tradition-ish way (hey, the delivery was verbal, even if the traditional part is up for debate, what with the spotlights and spectators and all!). You can re-watch the livestream of their live show on Western Folklife TV.
But, there was one regular Ask a Cowboy Poet contributor who was unable to join the live show–so, we had to know which poems Virginia Bennett might’ve shared had she been there.
“We weren’t able to have you with us in person for the Ask a Cowboy Poet live show. The other poets discussed themes onstage that included love, humor, nature, and writing poetry. What might you say, Virginia?”
— Inquiring Minds at the Western Folklife Center
Ever a peach, Virginia let us know what she might’ve said. We missed having you as part of the repartee, Virginia! Thanks for writing in with some of your original work!
We’ll be back to the regular column format next month. The cowboy poets are taking questions. Get to asking!
Virginia Bennett, 2003, photo by Kevin Martini-Fuller
Here’s what Virginia shared with us…
ON WRITING POETRY & WRITING ABOUT POETRY:
Addressing Paul, Elko 2003
Ricocheting off the stirrup bone of my middle ear like the
Well-oiled, rapid fire, cocked and loaded
Kick from a 16.2 hand saddle-bronc
Of a monorchid stallion named “High Ball,”
Zarzyski’s electric babbling zings through my cerebellum like an antebellum--
Nay, antediluvian idea that bounces back and forth
Between glistening days fraught with hapless fly-fishing and
Rich, frothy rides on April Showers.
Days fraught? Nay, phrases wrought with Freudian slips or slips of tongue
Like Bucking Horse Moon, an entendre (make mine a double)
If I ever heard one!
Sentences that never seem to end and
Lines laced with analogy and alliteration almost ambiguous, leaving
No word unturned until every single noun, verb, adverb and
Adjective in Webster’s (and I mean the New Collegiate size)
Is wrangled into one, great and glorious epic of a masterpiece
Which leaves me exhausted, spent and breathless,
Heart racing beneath my clavicle,
Chewing gum at warp speed,
Applauding and shouting for more
Until I realize,
What the heck was he just talking about?
by Virginia Bennett, 2003 (written for Paul Zarzyski’s roast)
ON LOVE:
As You Ride
As you ride the high sierra with your packstring and your pony
And your heart beats strong and lonely like the waves upon the sea,
Does that eerie pull which drew us into this moth-like dance
Cause your musings ’neath the moonrise to ever stop and think of me?
Do you ever take my picture from your saddlebags of mem’ries
Hold it backlit by the campfire or view its facets in the flame?
And when the coyotes’ music rings out over lonesome ridges
On a starry eve, I wonder, do they ever sing my name?
When the breezes comb the treetops of a spruce and aspen forest,
And the stones of unforgotten longing make you toss upon your bed,
Do you lie awake and listen to wind sweeping through the valley,
Wishing you could somehow capture whispered words of what I’ve said?
I will watch, with glances lingering, the rimrock trail above my cabin,
And strain to see your silhouette against a twilight sky.
I will bide, in expectation, to hear your rein-chains jingling,
And hope to soon see Northern Lights, reflected in your horse’s eye.
by Virginia Bennett
Photo courtesy of Virginia Bennett
ON COMEDIC COWBOY POETRY:
It Sorta Makes Sense
A friend of mine (I’ll call him Pete) was watching TV the other day
He listened to some reporter, believin’ all she had to say.
It was a human-interest piece, though some would call it “fluff,”
And it showed a lot of fancy folks with their poodles, struttin’ stuff.
And, the reporter said, “It has long been established as scientific fact
That dogs look like their owners and by data, this has been backed.”
Well, Pete looked down at his old dog, lyin’ faithfully on the floor.
His tongue lolled out (the DOG’s, not PETE’S) as he laid there in full snore.
His one good eye was swollen shut from one of the milk-cow’s kicks.
And he’d lost patches of his mangy fur from diggin’ at his ticks.
A trophy brought home gallantly from a coyote fight last week
Was one ear torn completely in half and a new scar on his beak.
He had porky quills stickin’ out of his gums, and he only had one dew claw
And since the stud-horse aimed just right,
he now drinks his toilet water through a straw.
Yes, Pete looked down, then he looked back at the screen
His cowboy mind in a muddled fog
And he said, “If it’s true that dogs look like their owners…”
I gotta get a better lookin’ dog!”
Photo courtesy of Virginia Bennett
ON NATURE (& A SPECIAL FAVORITE POEM):
The Lion
She waits in the deep, dense forest
Lurking in the shadows where the sun is defied
Lapping water from an ice-encrusted stream,
She is stealth wrapped up in a tawny hide.
She hears more by instinct than by listening
Her paws like radar upon the glistening shale.
And she’s keenly aware, when you are two miles away
Of your horse as he plods up the trail.
She has ample time to consider her options,
Whether scientists believe she can reason or not.
She could stay where she’s at, undetected,
Or head back up the slope at a trot.
Yet, she crosses your path when you’re almost upon her
Like a dancing sunbeam teasing a child.
Leaving one track in the trail just to inform you,
You’ve come THAT close to something THAT wild.
by Virginia Bennett
