Mary spent 27 years cowboying until a back injury stopped her from working full-time as a cowpuncher. Instead, she got into meat goats and travels the state of Kansas with her Barnyard Weed Warriors (meat goats) and her border collies, camping out on the ground wherever they roam. She has a bachelor’s degree in Animal Science with emphasis in livestock production management from Kansas State University. She writes poetry about her life and stories about her misadventures with livestock.
Mary got into writing poetry by accident when she wrote “Cowboy In the Girl Kind of Way” back in 1992,while she was in Germany, living as an army wife, homesick for the Kansas Prairie. her biggest influence in writing poetry came from her mentor, the late and great Baxter Black, who encouraged her not by critiquing her work but by prodding her to go to Elko for the gathering. She knew that Baxter felt she was ready for that and if he thought that she was of the caliber to go, then he liked her stuff.
Cowboy Poet Gatherings has brought Mary many enjoyable memories and new friends. “I didn’t realize there were poets in my back yard!” she said, speaking about meeting folks at the regional gatherings. “It is a whole new world of friends I didn’t know I had.” she adds.
Mary plans to attend the Cowboy Poetry Gathering at the Crossroads ranch on April 29, 2023 and is planning a Cowboy Heritage Festival September 27-30, 2023 at Fredonia, Kansas.
Her first CD of poetry and misadventure stories was produced in November of 2022 and is for sale by contacting her through email: duchessoftheprairie@yahoo.com or calling 785-420-0472.
Full Moon at Noon
By
Mary Powell
We chased the cattle along the river and up into the timber,
At least that is what I remember.
The cattle were wild, they had long ears and long horns,
We had to keep some distance, or our cowponies would get gored.
Slim to the high side and Sue took the low, she whispered back to me that she had to go.
I pushed the cattle onward, to give her some time,
She needed some privacy and a good place to hide.
The guys were all ahead and all was all clear, until Suzie’s horse spooked an old buck deer.
I didn’t hear the screams for help that she needed,
The damage was done, all the cowboys had seen it.
Her horse had lunged, and the saddle horn caught her belt buckle,
The sight we all seen, made us all chuckle.
Upside down on the side of the horse she exposed, her bare backside this runaway rode.
I imagined her shame in all of her glory, I rode hard to catch her runaway pony.
She was upside down nearly touching the ground when I stopped the escape,
She rode with me blushing back to the gate.
I glared at the men, and no one said a word back at the pens,
But the boss man sure had a great big grin.
I waited for it, I knew it was coming,
A bare backside in the timber, a snide remark would be humming.
But no one spoke of Suzie’s accident then and no one spoke of it, when to dinner we headed in.
Her face was scarlet all through the meal,
I tried to reassure her it was really no big deal.
BUT, when we finished out meal, the boss sang us a tune,
“I never believed I ever see a full moon at noon!”
Mean Old Cow
By
Mary Powell
Every rancher has one, that cow who came from hell,
She’s pure evil and obnoxious, she’ll run you down as well.
Her eye is always on you, her calf is never near,
She comes running after you, any time of the year.
Her game plan is simple, to kill you, if she can
If she can’t, she’ll chase you, just as fast as you ever ran.
She claims every calf as her own, until her own is born,
Then she’ll eat you up and hook you with her horn.
Why the boss keeps her, you will never know,
Some claims he keeps her, for the funny show.
He gets to laughing, watching you, to avoid her every move,
Until of course, she runs him down then he blames it on you.
This old cow, she settles every year, and every year you try
To convince the boss that she’s no good and needs to go bye-bye.
But every year he keeps her and every year she calves
And every year you put up with her, in hopes she won’t last.
And one day it finally happens, you notice that she’s slowed down
And that she’s stopped chasing you, and is never around
When you tag those calves and when you’re taking count
And then you find her lying there, in a rotten mount.
“Good-bye, old friend.” You tell her, “It’s been nice knowing you.”
And then you smile and ride away. “Good riddance.” You add on too.
Duchess of the Prairie 