~ My Covid Fear…

I know that all good things must meet their fate
but to die alone would bring such sorrows
None there to reminisce about the past
or to ponder upon the tomorrows

No one there to hold tightly my frail hand
or to gently caress my leathered cheek
With no last kiss to soothe my furrowed brow
no loving words given for memories keep

No one to whisper a final goodbye
or to pray for just a little more time
No one there to dry the tears from my face
as I succumb to the clocks closing chime

To pass unnoticed across the grey veil
with unfettered tears and shuddering breath
No one there to hear my last crying sigh
as my eyes darken with shadows of death

Jerry Brotherton
Copyright 2021

~ A Wannabe Cowboy…

Well I’ve lived in this Montana country
guess it’s been pert near fourteen years
I call myself a cowboy though I ain’t
roped a horse or branded no steers

Ain’t broke me no fiery eyed wild stallion
pushed cattle across open land
never fended off a mountain lion
or killed a grizz with my bare hands

I ain’t wrangled some ornery rustlers
with my rifle and colt six gun
or spent winter alone in a line shack
or been in a bar fight just for fun

But I got me a hat, some chaps and spurs
went and watched me a rodeo
I learned that to be a real life cowboy
is more than putting on a show

Don’t need to wear a Montana slope hat
to live the good old cowboy way
It’s more about how you respect the land
and always mean just what you say

You believe in traditions and honor
love, nature, honesty and song
A person who follows his commitments
though he may have to ride alone

If you want to be a cowboy my friend
then it’s having the fortitude
to stick to convictions and do what’s right
That is the cowboy’s attitude

Jerry Brotherton
Prairie Time – a coolection of poems and prose
copywright 2020

~ Wishin’ I Was a Real Cowboy…

I am not quite a genuine cowboy
but I know that somewhere deep down inside
If I had only been born way back when
I could surely punch cows, rope, brand and ride

I always wanted to be a cowhand
Oh what a glorious life that would be
riding along with the herd cross the land
living a life that was simple and free

I’d rise before the sun started to shine
ride all day under the sweltering heat
fifteen hours a day for nearly no pay
just a biscuit and a few beans to eat

I could help a thousand head to birth calves
with cold wind a blowin’ rain down my back
or ride along a thousand miles of fence
spend a winter in a leaky line shack

When on a drive and “breakin’ day” gets called
though I was froze stiff, wet, muddy and damp
I’d roll out of bed to stretch these old bones
they would hear the popping clear cross the camp

I s’pose that now I think hard about it
maybe cowboyin’ just ain’t quite right for me
Perhaps I’ll stay here in my writer’s room
Riding the range through cowboy poetry

‘Prairie Time’- a collection of poems and prose from a wannabee cowboy

copyright 2020

Prairie Time – a collection of poems and prose by a wannabee cowboy

I will be posting one poem from my latest book, Prairie Time – a collection of poems and prose by a wannabee cowboy, every Monday and Friday for what I can only hope will be your enjoyment.

If you would like a free PDF copy of Prairie Time contact me at jbrot0501@gmail.com . This book has not been published in paper form but has been copyrighted. Please feel free to share with your friends and family if you’d like.

Please share each poem, or the entire book, in its original form.

All rights belong to: Jerry Brotherton – The Backyard Poet – Copyright 2020


I’m just a hick from some little town in Missouri that, by fate or fortune, was transplanted to the wild west of Montana. The one thing I’ve realized is that the two are not quite as different as a person might think they should be.

As you read along you’ll quickly notice that my poems are simplistic in their structure and delivery. I suppose that’s because, I too, am a simple man. I try to put my words onto paper in a way that makes it a product of what I believe poetry should be. A person shouldn’t have to dig out a dictionary and a thesaurus or invite an English professor over for high tea just to read poetry.


The snow upon the mountains

and the wind across the plains

These are the sparks that ignite

my inspiration’s flame

“…my Ernest expectation and hope that in nothing I shall be ashamed… Philippians 1:20

I keep seeing all these posts that talk about us needing to act like humans again. I have to ask, when it was that we stopped acting like humans. Throughout our history, we have always been oppressors of the weak, war mongers, propagandist, liars, cheaters, and thieves. Even God, who created us in his own image, covered the Earth with water in an attempt to rid the world of us. So I say to you, let’s attempt to not be human at all… but to be something better. To be what God had intended for us all along. To live our lives in harmony and at the end of our time we can look back and not be ashamed of our actions.