“Is that bucking horse, called a bucking machine.” - The Bucking Machine, by Chris LeDoux

Sitting on the couch complaining about my back
was not how I wanted to end my day today.
When you have ridden rodeo
bucks all day,
and have managed to stay on,
you might have pride at the moment,
but later that slowly slips away.

My horse Pizano did not,
absolutely did not,
want to be ridden today.
He went about prancing away from me,
and hiding behind other horses
when his halter in my hand came in sight.
This ritual went on for twenty minutes
before I could slip his harness on.

In the cross ties he shimmied about,
moving this way and that,
and never picking up his feet.
He’s a pain sometimes, I tell you!
Tacking him up had a repeat pattern
of snorting and bloating,
snorting and bloating
until he got a smack on his rump.

Riding was unexpected,
as it always is with him.


At a walk he threw his head down
and let out a buck.
A whack from my crop didn’t do squat,
for the rest of the hour and a half
went the same way.
At the trot he let out bucks,
at the canter too.

The worst was when we tried some jumps.
For those nearly sent me flying.
Oh, he’s a pain!
Letting my inner cowgirl loose
in my English saddle,
I rode him without coming off,
to show him who’s boss -- me.

Though I enjoyed my newly
achieved bragging rights,
I don’t know if the pain in my
back is worth it.
Sometimes though,
that’s just the price it comes with.