By trade, Al Marquis is a trial lawyer in Las Vegas, Nevada, a short 45 miles from his beloved Kingston Ranch and the western lifestyle he so enjoys. You’d never guess he’s a lawyer from his poetry (except for the occasional lawyer joke) Al takes jabs and pokes fun at everyone. But there’s no one that he likes to make fun of more than himself, (if you ask Al, he’s just ”tellin’ the truth.).

Al has always been a cowboy in his soul and takes great pride in the fact that he knows all of his poems by heart. Cowboy poetry has given Al the opportunity to redirect his writing skills from the absolutely serious to the totally frivolous.

In Al’s own words, let’s hear how he became a cowboy and then a poet and finally a cowboy poet.

“First, credit where credit is due: Baxter Black, you are my inspiration. Second, let me set one thing straight. Although I am called “Mad Dog,” I am not mentally crazed. It’s simply a nickname that began back in high school (when I was mentally crazed). (You’ll understand when you read “Manure Happens”, “Everything is Relative”, “The Day I Electrocuted My Friend” and “My Black Mailin' Sister”.)

For as long as I can remember, I owned a cowboy hat, boots, a gun and holster and related paraphernalia. I never missed a cowboy show on TV (“The Deadly Aim”). All I was missing was a horse, and I pestered my parents about this “need” incessantly. How could I be a true cowboy without a horse?

At last, when I was nine-years-old, we moved to the country. We had a barn and ten acres of pasture. So we looked in the classified ads and found a horse we could afford: a brown mustang by the name of Smokey for $125 (bridle and saddle included).

Smokey was more like a mule than a horse. His mane would never comb one way or the other; it simply grew straight up and then fell to both sides like a long fountain. Sometimes Smokey would refuse to move. Other times he’d race full-speed, then trip and fall, and we would wipe out. No one in our family had ever owned a horse before, so I was pretty much on my own. I was learning to ride by the trial and error method (“Learnin’ To Ride”) .

Soon my sister Chris, who is two years younger, bought a horse as well. Then Patti, eight years younger, came along, and we introduced her to horses (“Learnin’ the Facts of Life” and “There is a God”). Over the years we added a few more horses and a cow, then a calf (“Avoiding Becoming a Steak”), and our little ranch was complete. My youngest sister, Juliana, came along 20 years after me (living proof that the “rhythm method” doesn’t work), and she was fortunate not to have had any horse interactions with her brother.

Chris and Patti grew up and had some experiences of their own (“The Ben Hur Sleigh Ride”, “Breeding Horses”, “When Chris Got Bucked Off” and “Patti and Her Dog Kodie”).

I was the typical teenager – a big blob of hormones with feet and I had one goal in life that always seemed to allude me. Then one day I heard that poetry could sweep a girl right off her feet and of course, that was literally my goal. So armed with this knowledge, I passed a note to Betty Lou Miller that read something like:

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
I would really like to go to bed
With someone like you

As you might guess, my efforts at “love poetry” did not meet with any more success than any other of my tactics and charms. Actually “zero” success is a more accurate statement.

In 1995, I purchased the Kingston Ranch outside of Las Vegas, where I work as a trial lawyer (“The Coyote” and “Bill, Blanch and The Lawyer”). My legal background, as you will see, has given me a distinct advantage when it comes to horse tradin’ (“Buyin’ and Sellin’”) and other financial endeavors (“The Red Car Blunder”).

In 1999, I married for the third and final time (“Gettin’ Back On For the Third Time”). My wife, “Tex,” is as fine as women come (“Why Women Are the Way They Are”) and I have had some wonderful experiences together battlin' (“That Gol-Darned Horse”). She loves the ranch as much as I do (except for “Snakes”). Our ranch life led to riding and shooting, and eventually I joined the Single Action Shooters Society (“Why I Decided to Join SASS”).

Most of my poetry depicts true-life experiences. Our family has told these stories over the years, and I have simply put them to rhyme. I hope you enjoy our adventures.”