Cherl Dunn Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

Dedicated to my Poet Destroyer, whom welcomed me and many more onto the soup

With open arms of warmth, seven is your choosen number but really your our lucky number

Dearest sweet lady poet. From all of us to you HAPPY BIRTHDAY to  you, and may you

Share many more with us here on the poetry soup, never leave us you whom are so very

Near and dear to us, our Poet Destroyer, we all love you, your a very special lady who

Has touched our lives, and enriched our souls with your words of advise, praise and striegth

Of character. I bless the day that I first meant you, you have taught me so much, and encouraged

me to keep learning to improve my artisist style of poetry. THANK YOU SO MUCH LINDA!!!

 

Tombstone

Whistle does the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
Roll does the crimson tumbleweed, towards the ghost town known as
Tombstone, a monuments graveyard to the old west.
In this rock cactus garden of venomous vipers, did the righteous
Live, amongst the uncivilized lawless, in this wildness country,
Of the unbridled frontier.
Blinded by greed's lightning flash, for quick money and easy cash,
Did the earth expose evil's shining metal, silver, from deep within,
Accursed is this place, purgatory's hell on earth, its deadly soil marred
And sanctified in blood sacrifice.
Left to the scorpions and rattlesnakes, as the only living inhabitants,
Ramshackle buildings remain, abandonment’s delinquent tribute
To a once thriving community.
But after night fall, others come forth, crossing the threshold of the
Nether underworld, the gun slinger, the gambler, and ladies of
Reputation's ill repute, claim this desert real estate for their own
Dark amusement park, still whooping it up at the bird cage theatre,
Indulging themselves. In all manor of seductions insidious erotic acts
Of depravity.
The condemned soulless walk these dusty sandy streets of limbo,
Forever banished are these bastered son's of the gun. Or until the last
Shot is fired at the O.K. Corral, on high noon's final sunrise.
Satan is the lawful sheriff here, in this the territory of the forsaken,
And his loyal deputy the Grim Reaper controls the posses of the undead.
Riding against the redden moon, seeking any innocent soul trying
To escape from this desert prison.
You've drawn the dead man's hand my friend, if you find yourself lost here,
For the condemned show no mercy's reprieve to outsiders, the screaming
Souls shout from above, run lone cowboy run, and don't look back,
For the devils possess rides behind thee, and the dark lord,
Takes no prisoner's alive.
Whistle do the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
But light concurs darkness, and death's icy grip fades at the 
First rays of sunrise, and all evil must return to their crypts
Beneath the earth, from the dust from when'est they came, 
Until the next moon's rising, then wide will the gates of hell,
Swing again, releasing the germinate residences of a city,
Named Tomb Stone.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

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Anton Smith September 13, 2015 at 7:18 AM Great piece of writing my dear, strong imagery and well written. Bravo to your creative efforts. Would you care to take a look my friends Facebook page which might be of interest: https://www.facebook.com/Raven3.gothic?ref=tn_tnmn Many thanks!

Paul Callus October 12, 2014 at 1:41 PM Once again I bow to your silver pen (in this case); excellent rendition in your fave free verse. I had never heard of this town, so I have just been on google searching for information. Of course, I had knowledge of the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and it seems that there are a few hundred people still living there...// paul

Gary Bateman October 7, 2014 at 1:46 PM Cheri . . . The western motif here is quite novel. I like it that Satan is the lawful sheriff with the Grim Reaper as his loyal deputy. Another most excellent write my dear and a "7." Cheers, Gary

M. L. Kiser October 7, 2014 at 1:21 PM A very vivid piece of poetry; I felt like I was there for a brief visit. Good stuff!

Carolyn Devonshire October 7, 2014 at 1:20 PM Dear Cheryl, when I visited Tombstone, many of the scenes portrayed in your write were there. You could still smell the beer and smoke in the Bird Cage Theater and the gunfight is replayed each day to delight tourists. It is like the spirits of "the original cast" are still there. Very cool how you introduced the Grim Reaper as a deputy here. Another time, another place, but you recreated it perfectly! Love, Carolyn Carolyn Devonshire October 7, 2014 at 1:21 PM Bought a poster in Tombstone: "Why walk around half dead when we can bury you for just $10?" Brought it to work and my boss made off with it on his 50th birthday. LOL

Poet Destroyer A October 7, 2014 at 2:45 AM My Dearest friend, this is a wonderful gift, and a lovely birthday present. I don't know about this worker the grim reaper. However, I love the dark gloomy imagery here. I never knew there's a city called Tomb Stone. The town sounds scary as hell.... Love my poem, and birthday present. I'm adding this as a fav.... Always and forever Linda