They Are Westerners

Have you seen else where a denim man with gaucho in hand,
Handling a huge horse with just a star in the shoe,
Boot that commands the land, hand that hints a man is coming,
Eyes that is deep as the Appalachian Mountains.

Whenever I look at them
With their eyes floating like rivers to all sides,
Guns the only thing to protect them from wild,
And their wind talker horse who guide them to the safety.

Those rolled tobacco in their mouth and few dollars to pay for all,
The puff when it rolls and the sea of alcohol it gets enforce,
Those shabby jackets, lands in a seat and the shirt collars which kisses the heat,
Dusts are coming from their body which shows how much work they are meant for.

They do not know what the fear is,
They even do not know what begging is,
They know only to work and earn,
Field their land with stables and graze all the horses and buffaloes.

They are stronger than a Spanish bull,
So they enjoy commanding horse and bull,
Their style is the venture for,
These are the man to whom every one looks up and say westerners.

by Sambidhan Acharya

Comments (1)

Your poem makes me want to be a cowboy. Good job.