Best El Paso Poems
submitted into "Premier VII Open Poetry Contest," Rob Carmack, Sponsor
ARRIVING AT EL PASO © Sara Etgen-Baker 2025
Some 20+ years ago, hubby and I took up roots, moving across the entire state of Texas for the hope of a better future. This poem attempts to capture my initial thoughts upon our arrival. (Yes, our future was better.)
The road, a ribbon of asphalt, unfurls beneath my tires,
each mile a memory, each turn a question—
what does it mean to arrive?
The sun dips low, casting long shadows over the desert,
here the horizon bleeds into the sky—
a canvas of ochre and rose.
The Franklin mountains rise like sentinels.
I wonder what pilgrims have crossed these rugged trails,
what hearts have beat against the same blazing sun.
The air is thick with dust and promise,
the scent of sunbaked earth
mingling with the faintest trace of rain.
Dust dances in the twilight,
and I am caught in the rhythm of it all,
the pulse of this border town.
El Paso, where the Rio Grande river flows,
a silver ribbon dividing yet uniting
two cultures, two languages, two countries.
I stand here in the embrace of El Paso,
feeling the weight of possibility and
the quiet promise of tomorrow.
Twilight descends, stars emerge~
tiny pinpricks of light
against the deepening blue.
I am a traveler in a world,
one that feels both foreign
and achingly familiar.
The weight of arrival settles on my shoulders—
not just a place, but a moment,
a step into the warmth of a new beginning.
Alas, I am a sojourner, a seeker of stories
finding my way in this city of
bridges, border crossings, and arrivals.
I like El Paso...the heat, the dust, the heat,
I like the cars and the hats the cops wear,
cowboys in a rusty B movie,
but most of all I like the people, the
janitors and doctors and newsreaders,
who don't care if they're American,
Mexican or both...
and the bars are cool, so cool... some
smell of menthol and others like a clean
latrine,
but that's OK..it's alright and I don't judge,
and the girls are single and friendly and they
like you 'cos your'e tall and white, with dollars
and tooled brown boots
but most of all I like the warm wind that blows
in sweet guitar music and shimmering light
from across the big bridge, tussleing the hair
of the janitors and doctors and newsreaders,
who don't know if they're American, Mexican, or both.
A SAGA OF OLD EL PASO
AND LADY B GOOD
There was a famous lady of El Paso in the Old West
She hunted and trapped, trading furs with the best
Her pride, her joy, a red velvet cape trimmed in fur so white
It seemed to glow with a gleaming unearthly light
You might think her name to be Snow White or Red Riding Hood
But she was known as Sweet Emmaline or Lady Be Good
Lady was famous in town for her mirrored honky tonk saloon
Which had a large sign saying Y'all Come Back Soon
There was even a piano player, with whom Lady often had a date
Who tickled the keys every night about a quarter to eight
But alas there rode into town one day a badass buckaroo
Upon his horse by the name of Big Blue
This hobnailed fellow looked to make an easy buck or two
He spotted the saloon and LadyBGood fixin' to go inspect traps
As it turned out it would be one of her very last acts
Lady and her dog Croesus had been an inseparable pair
But this day Croesus was off chasing squirrels somewhere
"I'll take your money and that fancy fur coat"
"Are you crazy little boy, you're not old enough to vote"
Quick as lightening Lady's Derringer came from her ****'s fold
But the cowpoke was quicker if truth be told
The buckaroo's nickel-plated pistol was pointed and My Didn't It Roar
Whereupon LadyBGood then unfortunately met the floor
The blood ran as red as her fur trimmed velvet cloak
And Sweet Emmaline drifted into a sleep from which she never awoke
EPILOGUE
Boot Hill in El Paso has only one Lady in it
Who made it her home when outdone in that grievous minute
She lies with her fur trimmed red velvet cloak and **** to match
Right next to the one who put her there … the Cowboy, Sam Hatch
El Paso, Texas
desert landscape
mountain tops
cactus’s so green
sand storms
dry air
Footprints of a lone coyote
beige sand
rocky mountain ledge
leads the way
to a
sun-filled sky
dry heat
winter in the morn
spring at noon
summer by four
El Paso, Texas
a
small
fragment of
the Lone Star State
Home
03/12/2021
My first attempt at an Ekphrasis poem
Written for All Yours (March 14th) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
El Paso
Once upon a time nestled a little western town,
At the foothills of blue mountains picturesque.
The sun fell behind and twilight colors settled,
Delightful township twinkles patterning.
Horses neighed in their stables allowed;
Even chickens murmured in adobe back yards,
Where a serpentine river’s reflections curl
Into layered canyons bending.
Once upon a time.
Once upon a newer time one by one, I saw
Houses snuggling thick up the side of those blue mountains.
Antennas were strung and swung across flat roofs;
Ribbons of a growing city’s streets snaking through.
Where a serpentine river’s reflections curl
Into layered canyons bending.
And I looked to where the little town used to be,
Flooded with childhood memories of
Once upon a time.
Fir-treed mountains extend below me,
wrinkled raisins clustered in clumpy desert oatmeal.
I know that you like oatmeal.
You made it once, on your own,
on the phone with me,
much closer than we are now.
The water boiled quickly; you sister nagged
when it didn’t look perfect,
like when your mother makes it.
I think it’s sweet that she cooks
breakfast for you, still:
oatmeal and blueberry pancakes.
I’m thinking of you right now,
flying over mountains
that remind me of raisins,
remind me of oatmeal,
remind me of you.
Hank loughs with guilt
thought while the smoke
of cigarrattes tingle
in his mouth.
He has neumonia, "for God sakes"!
But he enjoys smoking until
the last drag.
Finally there is a silence, like a chapel
on Sunday mass; little rings bells
at the distance sounds.
Our friendship is tight
he gave me his hand to pull him up.
The silence remains in the chapel
of his home, another puff, onemore puff,
the last puff.
The bells, still ringing
he has chest pain, but latter a releif
by a glass of ice coffe.
We joke between puffs, we know
life is short; let celebrate our dreams.
Time passed by and the silence in the
chapel remains untouched,
one more whisper, one more drag
he falls sleep with a childish face,
all his worries are gone.
COWARDS, NOT HEROESv
Cowards, not heroes, Call them what they are
Not Martyrs, killers of babies, children, people both near and far
Cowards not heroes, not terrorists, Call them what they are
How much courage does it take to mow down children and people in trucks
How much courage does it take to be armed with all kinds of ammunition
like a sniper and shoot down cops like sitting ducks
How much courage does it take to shoot unsuspecting people in a store, a show a school
To kill and brutalize black, brown, white folks going about their day
To fly into buildings, blow up people having fun running in races is beyond cruel
Oh you say, it is for what I believe in, I have courage to risk my own life
Or they deserve it, poor me, I have been hurt, I am angry
They will pay with a gun, bomb, or knife
Cowards not heroes, that is what terrorists are
Even an old woman could drive a truck through a crowd of people, shoot cops
Plant bombs, shoot into crowds and kill people near and far
COWARDS, killers ,not terrorists, not heroes, not Martyrs
COWARDS willing to kill babies, children, mothers and fathers
COWARDS let us call them what they are
COWARDS
Aprilcity was the theme a ridiculous jesture
A smile to say it was witty
A jesture to say it was clever
A lighthouse ajurned to a castle
In the middle of the desert
Might the mermaids sing to me
Might the prayers of sea merchants
Sound above the rocks
Might the winds howl in such agreement
The staffs of respected people
To treat visitors as there equal
From all ends of every nation
To marvel in such creation
Menu to menu
Event to event
Might the travelers who seek
A respective Venue
Speak us as such a retreat
To level the muzzling
the blurred eye to the blind
the most physical among us
To the sweet and unkind
Travelers in lodging
To which respects
A doctrine up holds
Might we stand staffed
To be host to visitor
Our needed like there's unopposed
Hospitality
Hospitality
Hospitality
The needs of many people