Roland's Tower Part I

There was a gunslinger, Roland Deschain, by name
From Gilead, in the barony of New Canaan, he came.
He won his guns at the tender age of fourteen
Aye, even Cort said twas the youngest he'd seen.
His hawk, named David, was the weapon he used
Released in the face of the man who'd abused
Him and his ka-mates throughout the years;
Becomin' a gunslinger takes blood, sweat, and tears.
His ka-mates buried the hawk, this is known for sure
As the new gunslinger rode into town to bed with a whore.
Roland grew old and went on a quest
While students who failed were sent out west.
The world moved on, time started to slide
Off for the tower, Roland started his ride.

D H Loewen
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace