Karen Stockett

Karen Stockett was born on a ranch in Southeastern Montana. She moved to Texas and became a college math instructor, where she met her husband, Lee. They moved back to Montana and had a daughter, Jess, who now helps run the ranch. She is thankful for the many opportunities God has given her and for the chance to share her passion for horses, cows and the ranching lifestyle with others. She enjoys doing cowboy poetry and she writes about cows, horses, God’s help, and good people. Her daughter has put together two books of her poems, “Blue Montana Skies” and “Summer Montana Sunsets.

Bulletproof

By Karen Stockett

He thought that he was bulletproof
And nearly 10 feet tall
But now he knows he’s 6’1”
With scars from every fall
The horse he picks is better now
When work needs to be done
The snaky ones and renegades
Don’t seem near as much fun
He used to get his rope for every
Critter on the fight
But ended up at least one time
In the ER late at night
He knows God sends down angels
When he’s out there all alone
To help him get the cattle moved
And get him safely home.
Now time is a two edged sword
And when the sorting’s through
A young hand asked him how he knows
Where to be and what to do
He said in time you’ll make every mistake
But if he had advice
If something that you do don’t work,
Try not to do it twice
One day he was lamenting
How he’ll miss the life he knows now
When he and bay get up in years
And can no longer work a cow
But God said “I gave you the horse
And I gave you today.
Don’t worry for tomorrow
Or wish for yesterday.”
So every day at sunset
Before he goes inside
He stops and thanks God for the day
And his horse for one more ride


Real

The cow there with the crippled calf,
To her there’s nothing wrong.
You’re right, that’s real, a mother’s love,
Unconditional and strong.
The years catch up, the pain sets in,
He prays for strength enough.
See he’s a cowboy to the core.
You’re right, that’s real, that’s tough.
And without hesitation,
Through cows and brush and dust,
The pony plunges down the hill.
You’re right, that’s real, that’s trust.
His hands clutch at his cowboy hat,
The tears fall down like rain.
It should have been forever.
You’re right, that’s real, that’s pain.
The boy they thought would never live
Rides in the pen to rope.
He’s got the biggest smile around.
You’re right, that’s real, that’s hope.