Ask a Cowboy Poet: Cherished Freedoms
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September 2026
Freedom is felt at various points in each of our lives. Whether it is the first time riding a horse, driving a vehicle, taking a trip, or getting lost, the sense of freedom (and navigating the consequences) seems to stay with us indefinitely. Could you comment on the discovery or loss of a cherished freedom that you have felt?
~ Thinking of Lasca
Dick Gibford:
It was the spring of 1972. I was still going to further my education at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, when I happened to run into Sonny Camarillo as I was leaving the library. I was living on our family ranch about four miles from the college campus, riding and training colts at the ranch and still trying to finish college for my degree. My heart wasn't in it anymore, and I had just about enough of being educated. Sonny and I stopped and talked as he was going into the library and I was just leaving. Long story short, he changed the course of my life right then and there. I never have gotten around to looking him up and thanking him, but perhaps, by chance, he might read this on the Cowboy Poets Q&A!
He told me about his couple of years experience of drifting around Northern and Central Nevada horseback breaking and training young horses, packing them until they were real gentle and sacked out, and so on. Then he told of a few of his adventures and how when he wasn't cowboying for a few months on some outfit, he would be exploring some high country and just camping wherever there was good grass and water for his horses. After we said “adios, see you later,” I walked a little ways back to my truck. Thinking about our conversation while driving back to the ranch, a big light bulb came on and a few months later I was on the trail to Nevada leading a string of three horses tied head to tail!
I was one happy young cowboy doing what I did best—training young horses on the trail to Nevada and Idaho as well. For about 15 years, I lived the adventurous life of a horseback nomad. I bought young colts here and there, packing them and riding them until they were well broke and ready to sell or trade. I never made much money, but the freedom I experienced was worth more than anything. Late spring and summer, I spent a lot more time camping out and on the trail than I did under a roof.
DW Groethe:
Really, this is a question that requires a lot more room and time than our fun little blog generally uses… at least for me… so, I'm submitting a poem I wrote years ago that sort of describes the feeling I get when I meet up with someone with limited cares and worries. Somebody that… well… here's the poem and thanks for the intriguing question.
Ta daa,
d dub
Over Yonder
They’re a different sorta breed,
them that take to horse an’ saddle
restless souls that’re mighty prone to wander.
Tho’ they’re grateful to be reachin’
trails end when day is done,
they’re always itchin’ for what’s over yonder.
Might be it’s just a hilltop
that they’ve never seen before,
gets ‘em wond’rin ‘bout what’s on the other side.
Doesn’t matter what the reason,
for the reason ain’t the point,
all they know’s they got to saddle up an’ ride.
They’ve a light touch on the reins
an’ their spirit knows no bit,
as they ease off lookin’ for that someday soon.
Nothin’ moves ‘em like horizons,
an’ you’ll never change their ways.
Be easier to rope an’ catch the moon.
You’re either like ‘em or you’re not,
it’s a basic fact of life,
you pro’bly shouldn’t contemplate an’ ponder.
Yet, I get this yearnin’ feelin’,
when I see ‘em ride away,
wonderin’ what it’s like there, over yonder.
Yvonne Hollenbeck:
Retirement is considered a form of freedom. My husband and I are both in our 80s now, so we decided to retire. We sold our cattle to a hard-working grandson and leased the ranch to him, knowing it was in good hands. I have retired from traveling all over the country doing programs with either my poetry or quilts. In a way, it seems as though we have plenty of freedom to travel, spend our days doing whatever we want to do, and are financially able to spend money without worrying if it was justified and not carrying consequences. We have quickly learned that these freedoms are not what they are cracked up to be. It is nice to not worry about the livestock, the hay supplies, the weather, the markets, and the many worries that accompany running a cattle ranch, but we miss it. I miss the gatherings and the many friends I made. I still write poetry, but I miss presenting it to a live audience and feeling the rush when they express their approval of it. So in essence, the freedom of being retired is not a freedom to be enjoyed, but rather just another one of life’s changes.
Yvonne Hollenbeck
Darrell Holden:
Freedom.
In 2026 that word is defined in a lot of ways. I guess for me, Patrick Henry said it best in 1775, “Give me Liberty, or give me death.” I feel like Patrick.
During my life, freedom has surely had a lot of pressure placed on it. And that’s probably the main reason I enjoy the solace of the desert. It’s a place where the majority of the time, I alone bear the burden for my own choices. I love that!!! I live that!!!!
Tangle with a colt, run outa water, rattlesnake, mechanical issues, a wreck with a cow… any of those can have dire consequences. And it’s freeing to know that nobody will come running to save me. Freedom has always been about personal responsibility, at least for me. Not depending on anyone else. I feel the most freedom when I am far away from the civilized world and the rules and constraints that accompany it. Not that I am against law and order, but freedom always has and always will be the empty places where life is lived on the edge. It sharpens me. It inspires me. It frees me. And I’d rather die than lose that freedom.
When I’m gone someday, gather up my ashes in an old coffee can. Sprinkle me across my saddle and along my horse’s mane. And set me free on the desert.
Darrell
Doris Daley:
Freedom is a big word. Sadly, these days (at least in Canada) it’s a loaded word, depending on which social or political group you might belong to and where you land on various subjects that used to be normal. So I’ll stick to the two poetry freedoms I learned a long time ago.
1. Lots of poets are more prolific than me, funnier than me, more insightful or profound than me, blah blah blah. But I daresay no-one is more prepared than me. I treat every show like it’s my first show. My neighbours know that when they see me walking two or three kilometers west of town, I’m rehearsing and memorizing for a show. I might goof up, but that amount of practice time gives me the freedom to walk out on stage and give it my best shot.
2. I gave myself a great gift many years ago when I realized that if a pilot or a heart surgeon has a bad day, the consequences can be dire. If I have a bad day and goof up on stage, the only thing to suffer is my pride. That gives me the freedom to walk out on stage and enjoy every minute with the audience. Beyond that, I guess freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose (thank you, Kris Kristofferson).
