The Bull Rider Poem by Connie L. Burchett

He strolls from his dressing room and heads for the arena,
hat on his head, chaps snug on his legs, spurs on his boots;
a bull rope in his right hand with his belt buckle shining bright.
One sleeve rolled up and the other left down, tight fitting gloves
with tape all around he knows he’s ready for this go round.

He stops short of the arena where he takes in the sights:
the roar of the crowd is a deafening sound and the lights are
shining so bright they are blinding. He holds his head high
while a grin tugs at his lips as he heads for the chutes to prepare
for his ride.

His heart pounding faster and adrenalin racing high, he climbs and
straddles the chute where the rankest bull in all the land awaits him:
has never been rode by a man. He waits for a moment for the bull
to settle down, so he can ease into position with his legs snug
close, heels down and toes pointed out.

Next he slips his left hand through the bull rope and grabs a hold
of the handle; it’s tightened and laces it through his fingers.
A quick mental flash goes through his head as he raises his right hand
and a nod of his head let's them know he's ready for this ride.

The gate swings open and out they come together: man and beast they look like one. The bull’s head is down and he bucks twists and turns every which way he can to throw his rider off his back, but it's to no avail. The Bull Rider’s form is perfect with his every move and no flaws can be found; for he knew this ride was meant to be.

He hears the horn to end his ride; he dismounts and scatters. Sucks in a deep breath lets it out slowly as he waits for the judges to show his score. Not long and he sees and a broad grin appears on his face. He bows his head to give thanks and off comes his hat and it is tossed in the air. For no one could be happier than he is at this moment– for he just got his ULTIMATE 8 SECOND RIDE! ! ! !