Best Gallows Poems

Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death

(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing...

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A funny thing happened on the way to my hanging
Couldn't sleep the night before my head was banging
I was innocent of a crime that I...

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Their mere weapon was their forbidden courage, hands barren with  no armaments, no ammunitions, marching towards the proud valley of death, dedication born from...

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The day Will Shepard shot my dog
His barn burned to the soil;
The flames licked at the Autumn sky,
The smoke as black as oil.
I dropped the...

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(This theme coincidentally matched up with another contest I recently
entered, so I revised my sonnet and then PD graciously extended this
idea of a day of...

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~Chasing Bigfoot~

Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent  
---footprints

He was out there,
hairy large and in charge

Drugs under...

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I don't know what came over me that day - an instant of weakness after years of resistance, I suppose.

My beaming spouse leads me, a...

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When the night wind changes course
sending breezes from the north,
when farmer's fields lie brown and fallow
and empty ropes swing from the gallows,
when children's faces are...

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The word of beauty I never thought about it
For me it always meant you
The word of trust I have never doubt it
For me it meant...

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there's not too much to tell of this story
no hero, no clown,
disaster nor frown
no gallows, no rope
just living of life
with sunshine, with hope

barefoot walks on...

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As dawn unfolds today beyond my fractured windowpane,
a breeze beguiles the ashen drapes. Like snakes they slip aside,
revealing wanton worlds that race and run aground,...

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While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
from branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy...

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Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly...

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Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of 
Destiny’s say.
On judgment hill from on high, 
Voices do echo downwards, as the 
Noose does...

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A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
while shiftin’ sheaves of withered leaves
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled runs roamin’...

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