Nevada Gold
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like David Drowley.
For purposes of publication Nevada Gold may keep its name or be re-titled California Gold.
The trail along which we now ride
Was made by folks with visions bold,
A westward moving human tide,
Who nurtured dreams of farms or gold.
From the promise of day’s first light,
Through somber sand and sage, they rode
In savage heat and gelid night,
Bound for the distant Mother Lode.
Their deep grooved ruts are now obscure
Along the winding desert track
Where traveled once the pioneers
In some imagined days, way back.
For those who passed, the dreams are done;
And most who failed left tales untold
With wagon wheels and oxen bones
And wood crosses above their own.
In the debris of that vast land
Lay a pink bottle, half in sand,
Which sparkled in the twilight gold.
It held a faded note which told:
“Tis a helluva place where I have died.
I did not make it, but I’m glad I tried.”
4/1/19/ 2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © David Drowley | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment