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Rolling Wheels
| Open Poetry #45 |
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Rolling Wheels |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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Banked up high with tumbleweeds- Rims now red with rust... Axles dry...no sign of grease- The bed is filled with dust. Bones half buried in the sand- Eyeless skulls observe- The place where they played out their string... They had no lack of nerve. Pioneers who failed to cross- The desert, bare and wide... The rolling wheels are stilled at last- For here the settlers died. The driver fought his lethargy... Long hours he rolled on- He’d make it if it killed him- Two long weeks out from home... He only swerved a little bit- While rubbing sanded eyes... He never saw that semi parked- And thus a driver dies. Those rolling wheels of life and time... Do measure out the miles- Allotted us upon this earth... The heartaches, tears, the smiles... Methodically we roll along... Down grades, and up the hills... Till time, and tide, and destiny- At last our journey stills. |
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| © Copyright 2009 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
You keep writing and I'll keep reading. Thank you, Alison |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
I told you that pen was just itching to write something your fellow poets would love to read. Ida |
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
Last week we visited the Rock Creek Station in Nebraska close to the Kansas border. This was where Wild Bill killed his first three men. They were unarmed and just came to collect the money Will Bill owed them. They are buried right there at the station. History shows us that most of those old gunfighters were back shooters and dry gulchers.It only makes sense: why give your opponent an even chance where you don't have too. Great Poem by the way. |
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