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Open Poetry #41
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Gunslinger
Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901
TX, USA

0 posted 2008-01-09 03:33 PM



Living from a suitcase-
And driftin’ cross the land.
A breed we see too few of,
A sure ‘nuff western hand.

His beat-up Chevy pickup-
No kids, nor nagging wife,
And not a lot to show for,
His sixty years of life.

A scrapbook in his suitcase-
He used to drink and show…
His clippings to the youngsters,
From his days of rodeo.

He’s kept a dozen buckles,
And a rig he never rides,
But faded eight by ten is:
His joy and his pride.

It was taken in the sixties-
At the big show in Cheyenne;
A picture of a saddle bronc,
And Bill, a youngster then.

Written in a scrawling hand-
Low down on the right:
The caption says, “Bill Taylor
On the day he rode Midnight.”

After he’d rode midnight-
Bill’s life was not the same.
Though he rode a lot of others-
That one was his claim to fame.

A black horse from Montana-
And mighty bad to fight,
They say he was a killer-
This horse they called Midnight.

He’d killed a man in Casper,
Then he’d maimed a dozen more-
This wild one from the prairies,
Was running up a score…


Bill drew him up in Cheyenne-
A bronc who’d not been rode.
And Bill was quite a rider,
And seldom he’d been throwed.

They run the horse into the chute,
Bill cinched his saddle tight;
They sized each other up a bit,
The cowboy and Midnight.

Bill told the pickup riders-
“You boys best stay shy;
I’ll ride him to a standstill,
Or me or him will die.”

The stands grew deathly silent-
The crowd could hardly wait,
Bill dropped into his saddle,
The he nodded for the gate.

A blur of black explosion-
Old Midnight bailed out high,
His nose in that arena dirt,
His hind feet in the sky…

Bill nailed his shoulders cleanly-
Then began to part his hair;
No matter what old Midnight tried,
The cowboy stayed up there.

In a cloud of death-like silence,
That arena was immersed…
No man alive had rode the black,
But Bill would be the first.

Then finally it was ended-
Midnight stood, his feet spread wide,
The horse was rode, his streak was broke, Bill Taylor sat astride.

Now he’s just a broke-down cowboy,
But he walks with quiet pride-
And lives with dreams of Cheyenne,
And His famous Midnight ride.

© Copyright 2008 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved
Clang
Member
since 2005-12-15
Posts 222

1 posted 2008-01-09 04:06 PM


Cool!
Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California
2 posted 2008-01-09 05:08 PM


You're on a roll, Gunslinger. keep 'em coming.
                           Ida

passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
3 posted 2008-01-09 06:16 PM


what a fine cowboy tale you tell

always enjoy your stories in rhyme

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA
4 posted 2008-01-10 04:12 AM


Enjoyed this fine writing...James
Roniece Dawson-Bruce
Member Ascendant
since 2000-01-29
Posts 5689
Sydney, Australia
5 posted 2008-01-10 05:03 AM


indeed as did I!!!  love RDB

Be kind at heart....for everyone you meet has their own battle to fight.........

aziza
Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995
Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy!
6 posted 2008-01-13 05:31 PM


You are quite the story-teller and you have me on the edge of my chair as I read.  That is no exaggeration.  

I have known some Bills in my time - and they are wonderful men.

A

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