For Jim


Wrote this one for a good friend Jim Moore. I wanted to make sure it had a place here on my page.Tom Moore, Reegan Moore Watson,ChelseaMoore Lindsay Moore Sutherland are like family and I wanted to write one just for them. Jim left us in July but he is loved and missed and I think of him every time I come to Tom’s sale and see his empty seat…..anyway it’s raining and you guys know I like to share one when it rains….PT

For Jim
James Bamber Moore was a trader
To his friends he was known as the host
He was gentle and kind, a good neighbor
At Tom’s sale right down front was his post

An Adrian son born before the big war
A true joy to both Ken and Doreen
He really loved people and all they stood for
Men like him are the kind seldom seen

For some there’s one horse that you treasure
And for Jim, old Dell Tommy that one
Back in 60 he won the world in the pleasure
And that started a lifetime of fun

With a smile and warm hand Jim would greet you
And catch up on the joys in his life
From the start he’d be damned glad to meet you
And you’d find a good friend there for life

Children Tom, Vicki, Lisa and Tim
The pride in his kids he showed strong
He carried their light deep within him
And was blessed with a life that was long

He knew the kind love of Wilma his wife
And then later with Charlene at his side
A generous soul with a sweet zest for life
He lived with a passion and treasured the ride

There’s a single seat empty tonight
Our good friend Jim has ridden ahead
His spirit remains to brighten our night
Like the kind gentle life that he led
PT Muldoon   ©2016


For Duane Smith Jr.


Here’s one I wrote as a tribute piece while back for my former Father In Law Duane Smith Jr. He was an awesome guy. PT


For Duane Smith Jr.

There are milestones that we treasure
That make a life well done
They offer us a marking post
On the ways that we have come

It isn’t wealth or treasure
As we go through life’s final door
But love that was delivered
From strong hands a good man wore

A strong and gentle voice
We found your heart was true
We counted you a good soul
There’s nothing more to do

You took the path less traveled
And shared along the way
We’re sad to see you leave us
But know you’ll mark the way

So tell our friends and family
Who ventured on ahead
You left your mark a good way
From a life that was well led

PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

Ranch Wife’s Camera


Mallory Wolford shared this picture…sitting here watching a brush pile slowly burn. Felt compelled to write one for my friend Erik and his Wife…always love their updates on here. PT

Ranch Wife’s Camera

Catahoula’s were willing
Fresh ponies were green
It’s the waspiest fine outfit
The wild west’s ever seen

We call Erik Wolford a cowboy
Trade that by doing he’s learned
His skills and his talent are legend
That title took time to be earned

Now rodeo made the boy famous
But the ranch life is really his spot
To ride and to mother fine cattle
Out where your word means a lot

With Mallory’s camera all ready
And Erik and dogs in the lead
A friend to a cow or a cow horse
The first to ride out when a need

See God places friends in my orbit
Then hands me the pen for a spell
And gladly I capture their essence
The good ones their stories I tell

The thousands of miles in between us
So I follow your lives when you share
It’s good to remember skilled cowboys
And ranch wives with cameras that care

See Mallory showed me the photo
So I felt quite obliged I should write
A short poem to honor this couple
And to celebrate ranch life got right
PT Muldoon
© 2016, PT Muldoon

Dear Old Dad


Here’s a new one I just penned amidst the thunderstorm here….Found this old picture of my Dad and his 41 Century speedboat that he built. Any picture this cool deserves a poem to go with it. Man my Dad was a cool guy in his day!!! Hope you guys like it. PT

Dear Old Dad

There are men who built fast motors
Out in the back of old barn sheds
Taking care to make them wicked
Visions screaming in their heads

Some wind up in fancy hot rods
Others in the type that floats
Open screaming flaming headers
Nestled deep in wooden boats

My old dad built up a Century
With a Chevy Corvette mill
And that old boat was a rocket
Other speed boats it would kill

And in nautical tradition
Gave a name to what he had
So he named it for his father
Thus became the Dear Old Dad

And each season he would sand it
Wax and varnish smooth and fast
And in stories that he told me
That old Century never came last

Just a faded Kodak picture
A good memory he still had
Of that old time 41 Century
He called The Dear Old Dad
PT Muldoon
© 2016, PT Muldoon

Races Not Run


Found parts of this poem jumbled in a few draft versions…figured I owed you guys a new one tonight so I set to work on rewriting an old one….kind of a literary version of a rat rod. When it was finished I kinda like it a lot so here it is…hopefully you like it. PT


Races Not Run

Somewhere between life and living
Out where it all came undone
Steeped in the ways of forgiving
Long past those days in the sun

Speed just a bold interaction
Caught up in crossfires of fate
Love like a verb called to action
Tethered to souls that wont wait

All that you want lies before you
Everything else simply lost
Hearts bound together as one true
Soaring too high for the cost

There is drawer at the home place
Hiding an old weathered key
Worn like the lines of my own face
Fit for a door that cant be

And locked in that moment forever
Memories that wont be undone
Failures still caught up in never
Races that simply weren’t run
PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

Bob’s Taps


This is a poem I wrote about a good friend of mine Bob Spence who was a stock contractor in our area for a lot of years. I met him late in his life and we visited often at his place and talked of many things and shared a love for this life, good horses and fine tack….One day he made a gift to me of a fine old pair of Hereford Tapaderos and told me the story of a cowboy down on his luck who needed enough gas money to get home …he had left the tapswith Bob years before intending to come back for them someday and pay back the loan but never did….this poem is dedicated to my friend Bob Spence and the great men like him that passed their love of this life on to so many of us. Hope you like it. PT

Bob’s Taps

In the corner of my tack room
Hanging high upon forged hooks
Bob’s fancy Hereford Tapaderos
The kind you’ll only find in books

He acquired them in the 60’s
Somewhere along life’s trail
To loan a struggling cowboy
Just enough to gas and sail

He said he’d come back for them
But that someday just never came
Those taps remained at Bob’s place
Where he ran a rough stock game

They proudly hang with honor
On the hooks at my home place
And every time I catch a glimpse
They bring smiles back to my face

He gave them to me generously
Bob Spence the cowboy’s name
Just an honest old time cattleman
Big kind heart behind rough game

He had helped so many people
Of the life he led he was proud
I met him late in his older years
Long after the roaring crowd

We’d sit and he’d tell stories
Of cowboys, rides and stock
Remembering the great ones
Bob had never punched a clock

I’m proud I got to know him
Those taps were gold to share
And someday they’ll pass on to
Some kid that shows they’ll care
PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

Final Ride


Final Ride


There is knowledge that a cowboy gets that helps him make a hand

Like how to save a scoury calf or mow on hilly land

There’s skills that come from knowing just what’s about to be

And the good ones seem to pick it up, that knowledge out there free


I’ve always been especially proud of things I’ve come to know

Like when to back a young one down or when they need a blow

The good ones have the knowledge that only comes with age

They find a way to read the signs and earn a cowboys wage


There’s lessons in the riding and glory in the day

That gives me pause to worship in my own peculiar way

But if my maker’s gentle and kindness he applies

I’d like to make one small request when light fades from my eyes


You see I thirst for knowledge the kind that’s good to share

And chance to stay well mounted and work with those who care

I always cherish sunny days when leather stands on hide

But hope when it’s my ending not to know it’s my last ride


I’d like to go in saddle upon a cool old horse

And leave this earth well mounted when life has run its course

With the maker of creation waiting on the other side

Lord hide  from me the knowledge when it’s my final ride


PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

David and Goliath


David And Goliath

See the story of the little guy
Crushed underneath this fray
Birthright darkened under western sky
As they steal his ranch away

You can kill a man for money
You can crush him for his land
You can steal away his freedom
Force that weapon to his hand

When you’ve driven off your heroes
And they lie in graves unmarked
All you’ve done is made new martyrs
And a revolution sparked

It’s a complicated matter
And there is no easy fix
Stack the bodies broke and tattered
As these villains ply their tricks

In the balance hangs real freedom
Sort it out beneath their lies
Needing patriots to lead them
Before the last of this kind dies

If you say “I followed orders”
Then you’ve ridden with the wrong
Pay attention freedoms’ borders
Will not hold this kind for long

Be that voice for those unable
And for freedom stand and fight
Do these small things while your able
And defend their sacred rights

And remember in this living
All a man has is his name
So be selfless, brave, forgiving
Make things better that you came
PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

Steel Dancers


This one goes out to my own personal heroes Brian Oldfield,Jud Logan,Al Oerter, and Mac Wilkins, I’ve been working on this poem for a long time and decided it was time it saw the light of day. As a kid growing up you guys were the inspiration for me to dream and that dream took me to college and much farther than I ever imagined possible.Your inspiration handed me the opportunity at a great life and some truly awesome memories as a thrower. I can never fully repay what having heroes meant to a quiet kid working out alone in his basement and dreaming… here’s to you guys….the cool part is that later in my life I got to connect with each of you on some level and you continue to be great examples of the importance to work hard and dream it’s great to see that each of you continued to coach and foster the next generation of great athletes and great people. PT


Steel Dancers

There are many kinds of people that the good Lord sets to make
Tall and skinny short and round there’s ample choice to take
But in one tiny section are the people God makes stout
With strength and size to great extreme who toss the steel about

You see this little section of those who launch the steel
Great giant gentle people with enormous hearts that feel
They spin and kick explosively to launch into the sky
Small implements of iron and lead to thrill those passing by

The world is made for smaller folks with stylish clothing neat
But the big ones choice is limited they march a different beat
To gather out in open fields and share the love of strength
And greatness isn’t judged by men we measure it by length

And there among these chosen few are those with great desire
Who changed the book of records with their heart and soul and fire
Bright pictures hang upon our walls of holes punched in the sky
With speed caught frozen in one flash a testament to try

Heroes… Jud and Brian, Mac and Al who changed it all
And taught the joy of triumph with the launch of steel ball
And stood upon that storied stage to challenge forth the sky
The holy bonds of gravity that strength and speed push by

When I was young and boundless I dreamt to throw the steel
And time and circumstances let me live that dream for real
I’m thankful for those moments and the great ones that I met
And out there in the open fields are legends seen not yet

So here’s to all the giant hearts who dream and work and tire
And coaches working endlessly to feed that sacred fire
When one man in a circle brings the best he has to show
There isn’t any place to hide those legends simply grow

And somewhere in a basement gym is taped upon a wall
A picture of pure poetry that dance made with steel ball
And in the hearts of younger kids there burns a dream to try
And step onto that altar just to pierce the summer sky
PT Muldoon

© 2016, PT Muldoon

The Old One


Going through some of my older stuff I found this one…thought I’d share it again. PT

The Old One
He’s just an old broke cowhorse
His time on earth most through
From the breakin to the doin
He came up all tried and true

He aint that much to look at
Like lookin mattered much
The first I choose to saddle up
He’ll back you in the clutch

His withers are the high kind
His legs scarred strong and true
He takes a bit more grain now
And an extra blow or two

Nobody gives a second look
When we go rolling by
But they aint seen what I seen
His heart and soul and try

We don’t go quite as far now
Before we take some air
We’re both a little stiffer
We both now sport grey hair

The fillies and the ladies
Don’t see us in the crowd
So we trail the herd at our own pace
And sing our songs out loud

There’s stories of the good ones
When men stand round the fire
Of ponies that they treasured
With hearts that never tired

Now it aint all been sunshine
We’ve seen a wreck or two
But he always grants forgiveness
When the next days sun shines through

And I hope when my life’s finished
And I cross that great divide
With a little luck the good Lord
Will grant me one more ride

On a good old well broke cowhorse
That lasts beyond times grip
Huntin cows out in a pasture
With a heeler at his hip
PT Muldoon ©2016