From Sea To Shining Sea


I saw this picture on the Michigan Convoy page and it moved me to write something….Bobbie and I have participated on a few sites raising funds to in some small way try to help our neighbors to the west. Nothing raises my spirit more than knowing that we are a nation of neighbors and that when tragedy visits we rise and reveal our character…..I felt the picture deserved some verse…hope you guys like it. God Bless America!!!PT

From Sea To Shining Sea

What started pretty tragic
As fires raged on our land
Tears rained down in rivers
Our loss like grains of sand

Lives gone with their cattle
And neighbors we all loved
As dreams lost to the prairie
Gave prayers to God above

But out among the ashes
As this nation rose within
Then rallied with our fallen
And sent out hope again

Farm diesels loaded heavy
As hay and fence and feed
Out across our highways
To ranchers there in need

Here always we are family
We stand with all who fall
And rally to our neighbors
To help them big and small

And someday when it passes
This life goes back to plain
Land will heal and prosper
These tears shall dry again

But always we’ll remember
The many that were lost
Keep here in prayers forever
As time tallies up the cost

And here amid the tragic
Upon life’s rocky slope
Remember we are family
Together we have hope

For America still matters
From sea to shining sea
Neighbors helping neighbors
Our land still brave still free

PT Muldoon ©2017


The Ancient Drover


Here’s a new one for my friends kind of a retrospective poem I’ve been working on for a bit…..hope you guys like it. PT

The Ancient Drover

A hundred fifty years have passed
Upon the gold touched grassy plain
Where nations mythic creature rode
To drive the herd thru snow and rain

Birthed bright colts and calves alone
Gathered strays to bring them through
Then quietly slipped to trails unknown
As modern age judged him all through

Lodged deep upon these ancient trails
On sunlit plains he marked with track
As poets, writers, minstrels mourned
This cowboy kind did not come back

Upon these storied trails deep mist
Where memories linger like his ghost
To mark the kind that tamed the wild
Carved this breed that gave the most

Hands rough worn from miles on rein
Eyes plain shattered from harsh light
And bold wild spirit forged thru miles
His memory slipped to roam the night

Known by many names cross time
Vaquero, cowboy, stock-man, drover
Stout ponies made to last the drives
Forged hard on rocky paths and clover

The ancients speak of stately knights
Who fought for honor, king and land
Here on plains made wild and free
The cowboy rode to prove his sand

For time passed by then lost its way
Once lived honor built then earned
Now but just small glimpse remains
Mythic horsemen’s skills time learned

Out here in deep corridors of our past
Where cowboy’s ride on ancient sod
And live this life that fills our dreams
To ride the wind and dance with God

PT Muldoon ©2017

Vaqueros de la Manopla


Usually I see a cool pic and write a poem to go with it…I wrote this one after a cool conversation about Michigan Cowboys and our home here in the Irish Hills region of Michigan that enjoyed the melting of families from Ireland, Mexico and Southern Texas. Then today I saw this picture on my good friends Raul N Polly Rodriguez Facebook page and decided the two totally belonged together as Raul’s grandfather came here to the Mitten from a big ranch in South Texas!! I think the words found an awesome picture that captures 2 generations and one awesome place. PT

Vaqueros de la Manopla

In this land of grass and water
As top drovers guide their herd
In the midst of four tough seasons
As they fight to keep their word

These cowboys of the Mitten
Top hands from ice and snow
With fine horses built in winter
In this land they love and know

In woodlands deep and mystic
Bridle horses soft yet strong
To ride handcrafted saddles
On big circles deep and long

They’re a mix of many places
From Killarney to Monterrey
The drovers and vaqueros
Who’ve shared the cowboy way

For the ones who know the story
And who proudly bear the name
Called Vaqueros de la Manopla
Mitten Cowboys got great game

PT Muldoon   © 2017

Angel’s Brand


I worked on this one all weekend as I got some much needed R&R and tried to heal up from this Bells Palsy deal. Thought a lot about some amazing night rides this past year. Staring at the night skies on horseback makes a person contemplate many things….most of all it makes me remember all the amazing people and horses I’ve ridden all these miles with,,,,,I hope you guys like it. PT

Angel’s Brand

I saw a distant solo rider
Late one night as I set out
I could not see him clearly
But his pony left no doubt

A friend remembered fondly
Bold partner from past days
Who lived now in my memory
Where thick fog made it’s plays

Along the treeline full and deep
As night air held that narrow line
I signaled to him welcome friend
He waved his hand to me in kind

Then lost him to the mystic
And went to where he rode
I found no tracks he’d left there
The earth no witness showed

I thought his form imagined
And then turned to ride away
Till I heard his old mount nicker
As if to ask me come and play

Within that depth I heard him
Speak clear thru dark of night
Then paid his words attention
Be sure I got them all just right

He said I ride in heaven now
I sport God’s angel’s brand
To carry forth good message
Bring his word to all the land

We ride in custom saddles
With stirrups cold and blue
Upon big flaming quarters
To tend the herds made true

I came to bring this message
So pass these words along
Tell all to pay things forward
Do right and cease all wrong

And treat your ponies special
Each day you rise just smile
For they were sent from heaven
To carry you and ride a while

Then if you live life with a purpose
And take up these ways so good
They’ll be there as you cross over
You’ll be mounted as you should

Then the world got sudden quiet
As deep within the mist was heard
One thousand mounted angels
Charge forth to spread God’s word

As hooves rang out like thunder
They disappeared into the night
And moved as one great purpose
Find the wrong then make it right

So when you ride that mystic night
And share the darkness with a horse
Just know the angels ride with you
To keep good trail upon life’s course

PT Muldoon ©2017

Soft Hands On Lightning


I saw a cool pic on one of my friends pages here thanks Savanna Adreonna for letting me use your pic….I decided to write one tonight for the ladies that turn and burn on horses that could best be described as lightning fast!!! Love watching these youngsters as they learn to become great hands. Hope you guys like this one. PT

Soft Hands On Lightning

Airbrushed heart shaped denim
Glued on a thirteen leather seat
Chasing three cans in a cloverleaf
On sweet mounts that can’t be beat

Long nights and silver buckles
Dually trucks pull as miles roll
Down roads mapped to arenas
As they feed their gypsy soul

This starts as little children
Feel this fever deep inside
Ride along with future cowboys
As they chase eight second rides

Ponies brushed and braided
Small saddles fast and light
To turn and burn quick ponies
And streak through summer night

When last ride is all finished
And just the memory remains
Of the girl who sat on lightning
Gentle hands to guide soft reins
PT Muldoon ©2017








Tailgate Tales


Ok been working on a new one for my good friend Sandy Mills she told me the story about being a little kid and listening to the horshoer tell stories….our talk went to old souls and us kids who gravitated towards being around older folks when we were little. I figured it needed a poem so with time on my hands and a little peace and quiet I sat down and wrote it…hope you like it. PT

Tailgate Tales
Up on the back of that tailgate
Wide eyed kid not much to do
Listen to horseshoers yarning
Clank of his hammer on shoe

Memories of people and horses
Stories of good times and bad
Most of em grew with the telling
Endings most happy not sad

Lessons time gives to a youngster
Tailgate seat or on square bales
Told to its own special fan base
Willing to sit through these tales

And time is a willing companion
Seen through the eyes of a kid
Told by some guy shoing ponies
Sharing the cool things that he did

PT Muldoon ©2017

The Horseback Poet


Wrote a new one last night kind of an autobiographical poem…my friends who ride with me will appreciate it…Sandy Mills still won’t eat the jerky or snacks I keep in that skunkbag!!!! Hope you guys like it.PT

The Horseback Poet

As he walks he limps a little
From a wreck long in his past
He loves to ride Dunn horses
Just the kind God made to last

With Stetson curled up tightly
In the shape of his odd head
He will seldom turn in early
Says he’ll sleep after he’s dead

He rides a lot past midnight
When the world is fast asleep
The old dog rides beside him
Likes that company he keeps

Rides a hand built Meno saddle
With a night latch neath the horn
And rawhide handmade stirrups
Built to last and time well worn

Silver buckle has his ranch brand
And above is spelled his name
At the bottom is his hometown
He is proud from where he came

The right side hangs a ranch rope
With a leather strap built neat
Neath a hand made leather canteen
That inside has tea that’s sweet

At the horn there hangs a skunk bag
Filled with dried jerky for his trip
The seat worn smooth and polished
Saddle pad pure wool so it won’t slip

Fine set of handmade hobbles
Made by T Double by the ring
He sure loves old timey music
Friends and horses hear him sing

His ponies all walk slowly
He will always be dead last
He loves to bring the rear up
Never cares to go real fast

All the miles spent in that saddle
And the words his pencil writes
Help give meaning to his journey
On these cold south mitten nights

And someday when his old spirit
Rides ahead to guard the herds
Maybe someone will remember
As they read the rhyming words

PT Muldoon ©2017

Vaqueros de la Manopla


Got to go to Horse expo in Lansing today….had a chance to hear Lester Frick perform and heard an old friend CT recite some poetry…our conversation turned to Michigan Cowboys and how so few people know about some of the top hands in this part of the country. I learned a lot from awesome horsemen like Roy Rodriguez and his son Raul Raul N Polly Rodriguez. Made me think of the awesome melting pot we have had here in the Irish Hills and how a hundred years ago cowboys from Mexico and South Texas combined with Drovers from the Irish countryside to build what I like to call the “Cowboys of the Mitten” or “Vaqueros de la Manopla” When I got home I sat down and wrote a new one in their honor…..hope you guys like it. PT

Vaqueros de la Manopla

In this land of grass and water
As top drovers guide their herd
In the midst of four tough seasons
As they fight to keep their word

These cowboys of the Mitten
Top hands from ice and snow
With fine horses built in winter
In this land they love and know

In woodlands deep and mystic
Bridle horses soft yet strong
To ride handcrafted saddles
On big circles deep and long

They’re a mix of many places
From Killarney to Monterrey
The drovers and vaqueros
Who’ve shared the cowboy way

For the ones who know the story
And who proudly bear the name
Called Vaqueros de la Manopla
Mitten Cowboys got great game

PT Muldoon ©2017



Found this one in some notes I had saved…figured it was worth the share. PT


I like to remember back when it was easy
And others watched over my needs
Simplicity visits us all as a child
And the joy and the wonder it feeds

When I was still young and my life up and coming
The world lay before me like clay
And though it seems ages and ages ago
To some it passed through like one day

The wonder of life and the passage of time
It’s moments run quick through our hands
And if it lasts long or is over too soon
That measure not governed by plans

We all seek more time and the journey
As we treasure this voyage we take
Our passage a footnote in Gods master plan
And the impact our journey might make
PTMuldoon ©2017



Paxton Rodriguez is one of those cool quiet kids that takes a lot of measure in what he does….I really enjoy roping with him because he cares deeply about this life and always striving to improve….found this picture of the young man doing what he does and wrote a little piece to go with it. Hope you like it. PT


Time is just one frozen patch
Locked in place for all to see
Time’s a gate that open latch
Off it’s chain and moving free

Time’s a frozen stitch cross span
Standing still for just one stop
Then off again it blazes forth
To break on free across the top

Time’s that marker of our days
Just holding measure til it’s free
Then opens up the span of life
To form its place of what’s to be

Time’s that photo there on page
One frozen calf all roped and tied
Fine horse with try and kid with sand
As chance is made and skills applied

PT Muldoon ©2017