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Details | Gunning For Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Outlaw's Angel, Part II

...Burke grabbed Aura and they both ran out,
riding double on his trusty horse.
The word raced quickly through the town,
a posse was formed, as a matter of course.
So Burke pushed his mount, more and more.
They couldn’t go back, despite acts justified,
not when two men, one a sherriff, had died.

So they rode, pursuers hot on their trail,
until they reach a ranch high the peaks.
Burke pulled a gun while Aurelia seized
a new horse, both study and sleek.
The rancher fumed, too angry to speak.
Burke apologized, gave him all his gold,
then sped off again into mountains cold.

Two days passed, the posse drew close,
and both their horses started to flag.
No longer able to outrun their hunters,
Burke mad camp high up in a crag,
where he could shoot safely if they attacked.
The posse appeared in the meadow below,
lead the by the sherriff’s oldest, known as Milo.

“Surrendor now, or we’ll shoot you down!”
They shouted it as they stared to climb.
But before Burke could even open his mouth
the air exploded with shrill, Indian cries.
A horde of Bannocks their arrows let fly!
They swept into the meadow, circling fast.
The posse died quickly, not long could they last.

Burke and Aurelia hid low in the rocks
until the last of the Bannocks had left.
Not much was left of the posse below,
they lay still, and were mostly scalpless.
But one figured crawled amongst the dead.
Burke climbed down, still clutching his gun,
and loomed over the sheriff's bloodied son.

“You won’t believe me, but I’ll say it now,
I acted only out of self-defense.
You’re father and Grisby were gunning for me,
and Grisby was putting his hands on my friend.
There choices brought them to their ends.”
But Milo just snarled, and crawled away,
Burke and Aura sighed, and left him that way.

No one from Tillico ever saw them again,
even when Milo put a bounty of their hides.
Some say they made for themselves new names
and peacefully lived out their lives.
Others said, like most outlaws, they died...
And if you all liked this tale that you just heard,
Tell your friends about me, Bruce Bowden the Third.


Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017


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Cowgirl Up

Subdue my senses like serenities face
a heartfelt happy embellished
his canter skilled with heavens grace
a companionship barley unblemished

except that she rides alone

Into the storm gathering speed
she squeezes her knees tipping her heels
gunning for the feeling she longs to be sealed
unleashed like the fury of a thunders peal

Her saddle steals with shift of weight
her balance for the run
like symmetry never expecting to yield 
adrenalin hiking the fearful unknowns

There she rides alone

Her life is cinched an aimless roam
her hunger for the feeling of home
with subtle sounds like flexing leather
is the tearing of her heart like the storms she weathers 

carried on waves of an emerald trail
turned wheat in Autumns image
Buckskins beat secures her seat
and gives her thoughts to visage 

Though there's nowhere in this world she'd rather be
she can't shake the feeling of the missing
destined to wings that fly alone
no companion for her soul in the cheering

This is why she calls him Tuff
Hedeman in a lady she cowgirl's up...
looks her pony in the eyes
reminding her that the tough don't cry

Just take Bodacious by the horns
knowing "impossible" will not hold the throne
always through pain our courage is born
though every eight seconds she rides alone

She'll keep her head up high
never giving in to the pain
lessons she learned from her hero's
Cowboys Tuff and Lane



Copyright © Sarai Virden | Year Posted 2014


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He Never Loved Me

He never loved me
Well damn I just found out
Took a shot to the heart
Don't know where I should start
I guess I musta been strung out
Cuz I was straight up on his arm flashing that smile like aint no brother like the one I got 
Saying girl I'm so lucky 
You just jealous
Whatchu mean he's cheating
Ahh shut yo mouth

Making plans, writing poetry, letting his hands be one with me
He was free to play games with me
With my identity
When he was through with me
I barely recognized who she was cuz she was not me

But I was forever high
See I
I planned our wedding in my mind a million times
Yeah I said we'd name our first kid Tasha
Or prolly Sasha
Even after his great grand aunt Hadassah
Kiki or prolly Eloise 
He could bend me over 
To his whim or his fancy

Deeply committed was I 
To this guy
I didn't care about the why
I just cared about his smile

How his face would light up when he saw me
And just how it was all so wild 
Mild 
was never a part of our loving
heavy from the get nicca always had me coming
To him constantly running to him
Gunning for him
Loving just him
Giving never ex-pec-ting

He didn't love me
See I just found out
One day it came to me when I was walking around the house 
It came to me
How I'd put his needs before mine
Put ma money on his hustle
Saying everything would be fine
Cuz I would be-ne-fit 
Joint bank accounts
Cleared out savings
Warning signs begged me to put an end to the ish
But I just couldn't quit
I could not forget

He was that 9-5 that I just could not leave
So I worked tirelessly hoping the boss would recognize
My efforts and promote me.

Promote me?
Dumb me
Strung out 
Oh boy kinda good turn out
Everyone showed up but sanity

Cuz I musta been crazy to letchu play me
and sway me to your mindset
Wet, my heart with regret 
turned me cold a reject

Deject-ted I stayed that way for centuries
Soul moment suffering through comments
Holding on to moments
Dead to emotion to me anomaly 

He never loved me
WELLL I JUST FOUND OUT
I was silly blind trying to find
Reasons for his indiscretions
His lack of confession
Why he never let me in
Musta been ma sins
saying be more forgiving.

He never loved me.


Copyright © Maren Johnson | Year Posted 2016


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Cowboy Heaven

John Wayne will be there 
and the steaks will be rare,
in Cowboy Heaven;
And the Posse will be – not  gunning for me 
- in Blue Yonder sky
 
The saloon’s never dry, 
it’s all free - you don’t buy,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Three fingers of rye, no more patch on my eye
- in Blue Yonder Sky
         
I’ll be riding off into the sunset, 
Saddled up on my trusty old steed
But my permanent ‘get out of jail’ card, 
guarantees that by dawn I’ll be freed
 
The Good Sheriff will be 
on the lookout for me,
in Cowboy Heaven;
Keeping injuns at bay, 
sending snakes the wrong way
 - in Blue Yonder sky
 
My horse just won’t care, 
‘cos them spurs won’t be there,
in Cowboy Heaven;
He’ll be swishing his mane 
on the tumbleweed plain
- in Blue Yonder Sky
             
There’ll be pictures of me 
nailed on every tree,
in Cowboy Heaven;
But there’ll be no reward , 
cos’ I’m loved by my Lord
 - in Blue Yonder Sky
 
All the good guys in white, 
and fightin’ the good fight,
in Cowboy Heaven;
What a place it will be - 
and the Whiskey’s on me
- in Blue Yonder Sky


Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015


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Brodmann Area 4

The debate between free will and fate has taken a hard right
turn to neuroscience, Brodmann area 4 the primary motor
cortex of the brain located in the posterior frontal lobe
(the one cut out of the one who once flew over the cuckoo's nest).
This area of the cortex has the pattern of an homunculus!
a little man, a troll, the all-wise, mandragon, the golem of Jewish folklore.

This little man has a ***** that, when fully engorged, is
equal in size to his entire body. However, diseases
such as Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Huntington's, Lou Gehrig's and
      Creutzfeldt-Jakob
are gunning for him. His basal ganglia are garbled
and he ends up giving poor advice and making bad decisions.
Who can say what happens to his soul or cells or if all will be given or
      well?

I was listening to the famous astronomer on public radio
who expressed the certainty there is no death, your soul
is immortal, it exists outside of time (but not space?). That's because
time exists only in the human mind (as does the entire universe
including the professional baseball season which is canceled when
      you're dead).
By Spring, my problems will be solved or ignored, either way is good.

"Imagine if we taught baseball the way we teach science. Until they were
      twelve children would
read about baseball technique and occasionally hear inspirational stories
      of the great baseball
players. They would answer quizzes about baseball rules. They would
      practice fundamental
baseball skills, throwing the ball to second base twenty times in a row.
      Undergraduates might be
allowed under strict supervision to reproduce historic baseball plays.
      But only in graduate school
would they, at last, actually get to play a game." --Alison Gopnik

Groundhog holds the knowledge of death without dying
for man needs help from every creature born.
Will the holocaust wipe the smile off the face of our romantic comedy
or will laughter outlast the outburst?
About the dark times will there be singing?
Yes, there will be singing and some of the songs will be sidesplitting.

Solving the murder reveals the city. Nature of kinships and economic
      sustenance,
who loves whom and why, when things happened and how they lost
      and found themselves
in what happened. Because a meter-making argument cannot appear
from nothingness, purposelessness, just cold.
He does not go where he was supposed to go. He is in the desert,
      Sonoran desert, counting cactus buds and ocotillo blooms.
This is the afterlife for which he has always longed.






Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015


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An Expendable Right-Hander

The Mets figured they already had a pitching ace. They badly needed a competent man to play third base. A righty and a lefty were considered better than dependable. The management considered another right-handed pitcher expendable. The Amazin’ Mets felt they had minor league talent galore. After the win in ‘69, they were gunning for one more. For this expendable right-hander, a converted shortstop the Mets would get. This was a deal the front office and fans would regret. The outcome of this done deal proved to be a shame. That expendable right-hander went on to the Hall of Fame.


Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014


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Was the West Really That Wild

Was the West Really That Wild 

They had been a big bunch of crabs
Complaints came from mouth that blabs
According to formula I recently equated
They all should be completely eliminated.

Remember when west had much luster
Had a Crabbe with first name of Buster
And then on you another one soon grew
Who was none other than Lash LaRue.

Tom Mix had mixed it up with the Duke
Of horrendous Hazard or Cool Hand Luke
When last time John and me again met
He was on a Monument Valley film set.

Could West really be benevolent or wild
Or by many people were we being beguiled
Things were peaceful and soon settled down
Until another convention came to town.

Don't bring politicians to town or pistols
either for that matter. Politicians will be
gunning for your vote.

Jim Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet


Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016


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Rotgut Town

Zack Waverly was weary, he'd travelled around
He was soaked through from a storm whipped rain cloud.
Zack takes up the narrative,  better I found.

High noon, I rode the bay into Rotgut town
Fixed intention, I weren't playing around.
A spurt of tobaccy I spat on the ground.
Finding my quarry was where I was bound.

Saw lonesome Jake sitting outside the saloon
Playing his harmonica, a doleful tune.
No time for pleasantries, gunning for Calhoun
As I went in, I collided with Muldoon

I threw him head over heels into Main Street
Then turning to draw the bullet was fleet.
I checked Muldoon was dead by kicking his feet
Lonesome Jake squealed and beat a hasty retreat

The bar tender nodded as I caught his wall eye
A bargirl sidled to my side and said "Hi".
With her arms 'round my neck, I did not reply.
I swept her aside as she exclaimed "Why?"

Downing a shot, asked "Seen Calhoun hereabout?"
Bar keep, Finnegan, said "With this here drought
he's gone to find a watering hole, with Indian scout"
In anger I kicked a table, them came a shout.

" Waverly, you yella belly rattlesnake!"
The saloon swiftly emptied leaving 'us' in their wake
Saw Calhoun run up the stairs, making them quake.
Turning, he aimed, an easy target did make.

Double barrelled gun smoke then filled up the room.
Grabbing his legs, hissed "I'd put him in his tomb"
I punch him through a winda and grabbed a broom.
Then came a 'free for all' with goodness knows whom.

The director shouted "Cut, print, great work guys"
As my girlfriend, the bar girl, said "Hey, surprise"
As she dragged me to trailer batting her eyes.



Copyright © theresa stephens | Year Posted 2014


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SKYWIDE

Crash down softly, where the red crush deepens
Charming, snatch your cherries from the stem
Rude health walking in the greenburst showers
Weather wonders whether she's with him.

Then fly downhill for the lost sensation
Climbing with a shudder back up fell,
Rainjacked half smiles and a skywide feeling
Rush to hunker down the shattered elm.

She could suffocate the hyacinthes
Breeding and pervading every pore
Skim-stop stones among the lead-tipped peril
Breathing once again in semaphore.

They play catch perhaps, a shimmy in slow motion
Every brush a shock to seek again
All fall ragwards in the bluebell clusters
Laughing, shrinking, knowing... something.

Jill woos butterflies while you play Hamlet
Cradling a half-brick in your hands
Grass-stained livery that can't stay forever
Sedge bonfire from nowhere and that hound.

Who'll tell grandma that the wolf has eaten?
Who'll break the bank for just a dare?
Leave mudboots ashamed to save twelve seconds
Gunning for the best seat in the lair.


Copyright © PV Harrington | Year Posted 2015


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This is my time

Am I really this far away
That no one can see or hear me
Crashing form hell
Under the debris

I called for you
I don't know your name
I shouted
But no one came

Deeper and deeper into the darkness
I will never be found
Running from the demon
To which I am bound.

Befriend the ghost
That shadows my face
Befriend the lie
That powers my grace

Desire to never see the reflection
That is hidden away
The monster in my head
Is gunning for it's prey

I'll die for no cause
I'll disappear just to end
I'll put up no fight
I've nothing left to defend

Don't listen as I howl your name
Turn away as I reach in pain
Cast a shadow upon my flame
I beg of you feel no shame

Sweet releif is all that is asked
A shadow I shall no longer cast
I'm not the first and I won't be the last
I can now remove my mask.

This is my Time
I have no mountains left to climb
I peaked at my prime
I have nothing left to rhyme
This is my time.
















Copyright © Stacey Brackley | Year Posted 2012


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PLUNGE TO SUCCESS

Plugging all loopholes debarring progress.
Launching formidable,affordable and achievable programmes for the 
improvement of the society.
Unfolding new ideas,technology and innovations for advancement.
Not leaving out any essential information,ideas and matters to move forward.
Gunning for the best in all things.
Ever ready to listen and cooperate with subordinates,equals and superiors.
Tender and loving to all with noexception.
On the will of progres always to achieve and succeed
Sensitive to changing events and circumstances in his environment.
Urgently attending to all issues with equal spate and pace.
Checking all details and facts available to him painstakingly.
Cautious in taking actions and making pronoucements.
Exemplary posture of purity and worthy followership.
Shinning example and pride to the society.
Succeeding through hardwork,perseverance and strongwill.


Copyright © Dr Olusegun Oyelese | Year Posted 2007


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A trib to the realest dreamer

Walking the straight line
Hellbound, gunning for heaven
Military mind
By shadows can't be worried
Else your dreams will be buried


Copyright © Davor Miljkovic | Year Posted 2016


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MY CHANGES FOR TOMORROW

 MY CHANGES OF TOMORROW
IS FOR ME, NOT  TO BE IN SORROW.
AND FURTHERMORE, MY CHANGES OF TOMORROW
IS FOR ME, NOT NEED TO OWE OR TO BORROW.
  BUT MY CHANGES OF TOMORROW, 

IS FOR ME TO FLY HIGH LIKE A SPARROW, WHILE I WALK STRAIGHT AND NARROW.
AND ALWAYS FOR ME, TO REMEMBER TO ALWAYS KEEP MY EYEBROWS UP
AS A REMINDER NOT TO BE SCARED LIKE A SCARECROW,
AND NOT STRIVE FOR MY TOMORROW. 

BUT AS LONG I CONTINUE TO PUSH FORTH FOR MY TOMORROW
MY CHANGES WILL SHOW AS IT GLOW; GROW
AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I AM PUSHING FOR MY TOMORROW
NOT TO BE SORROW, SLOW; ALSO BELOW, BUT FOR IT TO BE,
BIGGER, BETTER; ALSO BRIGHTER; THAT IS WHAT I AM GUNNING FOR; AS WELL RUNNING FOR, FOR IT TO BE A BETTER ONE; AND NOT A BITTER ONE.


Copyright © Abiygayil Yisrael | Year Posted 2016


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The Day I Picked Up That Dead Man's Gun

I saw my first killing
At the tinder age of thirteen
Two men fell outta the towns saloon
And commenced to fighting in the street

It was at that very moment
My Momma she grabbed me
But Momma couldn't keep me from seeing
What it is I seen

It broke my heart when Momma
Stood on that dusty street and cried
But I still went about my business
When she covered up her eyes

I grabbed the dead mans gun
That's when I told my lie
I told my Momma that I'd be home
Later on that night

But my Momma she never saw
Her young boys face again
'Cept on the wanted posters
Nailed up by many a lawman

Many a lawman lately
That's gunning for my hide
'N' to think it all got started
When the first owner of this here gun of mine died

My killing spree started in Colorado
Then went south for a spell
Every town that I rode up on
Became a living hell

A living hell that no one ever
Had the nerve to give me back
I almost feel sorry for the men
Who ever dared to cross my path

No matter how far or fast I ran
Death was always close behind
In his right hand he holds a flaming sword
On the handle engraved the name is mine

The name is mine
And he knows it well
Deaths one desire
Is my soul in hell

I was twenty one years of age
When a coward shot me in the back
Shot me in the back
Cause it was courage that he lacked

The courage that he lacked
Stopped my deadly run
As fast as it all got started
The day I pick up that dead mans gun


Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016


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duel

I'm calling you out
a duel of sorts
draw your weapon
prepare  your shot
take careful aim
cause I will too
get ready, cowboy
I'm gunning for you


Copyright © Jo Bien | Year Posted 2010


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Dylan's Highway Revisited

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man,
where this time have you gone?
there's a war in the desert raging
but I don’t hear your voice rising.

Look, you know I took you for your word,
closely listened to every story you told,
you had me right in the palm of your hand
with your tale of a dove lying in the sand.

When that crazy Asian war was being waged,
senators, congressmen, you mocked on stage;
the times they are a-changing, you were saying,
man, I believed you and I  joined in the singing.

History is repeating in the Mesopotamian dune
and long have I waited for your rambling tune;
where’s your harmonica and that familiar noise,
where's your poetry, where’s your angry voice!

The masters of war are on a rampage again,
sending thousands to their death, it's a sin!
strange that I don't hear you saying anything,
running out of gas, are you? you poor thing.

Maybe the years are finally catching up with you,
is it time for Springsteen to run the road show?
or are you just too busy making them records
for the next Grammy night, gunning for the gold.

Come on, make up your mind, Mister Dylan,
lend us a hand and help us make a stand;
no time to think twice for things aren't alright,
are you selling out or are you joining the fight?

Hey, hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, 
damn it, where have you gone?
there's a war in the desert raging
but I don’t see you doing anything!

 




Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007


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Go Vote!

   

Picking a president to run this nation,
Is our duty and honor and should be done with great jubilation.

Choosing the right one should be done with principles and tact,
Reverence, honesty, with moral convictions should be an equation to the fact.

Campaign speeches are just smoking mirrors that hardly ever get done,
How many have stood behind their promises after they won.

My number one thing is he has to be a Christian and follow Gods word,
Be loyal to this country and restore its morals am I being absurd?

I think our Constitution has been changed till it no longer really works,
And if our forefathers could see it they’d probably go gunning for the jerks.

We have thrown decency out the window and morals got shoved out the door,
I’d like to see that eagle soar high and be proud of this country once more.

I love this country with all my heart and my soul,
And seeing these old standards renewed is my utmost reward and my goal.

Make your choice as wisely as you possibly can,
Let’s all pray together we elect the right man.



Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2008


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STAYIN ALIVE AIN'T NINE TO FIVE

STAYING ALIVE AIN’T NINE TO FIVE

It’s not an easy job
One must know how to fight and rob
It’s not an easy occupation
One must have keen observation

You’ve got to look both ahead and behind
Someone with rough edges of a certain kind
Sympathy plays no part in what one must do
He has to be heartless and fearless too
 
Around every corner on every single block
Time is often of the essence so you watch the clock
Hanging out in one place too long is a big mistake
And there are also hard and fast rules one must never break

Such as a snake one must slither and slide
And also know when it’s time for you to hide
You never know who might be gunning for you alone
And your stare better be fearsome and stoic as stone

Civilians and police are enemies who want to take what you sell
You have sweat, fear and being caught to quell
The job is based basically on receiving and giving
So learn well if you’re going to sell dope for a living
   © 2011.…Pheeepoetree   ~free cee!~


Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011


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staYiNg alIVE AinT 9 2 5

STAYING ALIVE AIN’T NINE TO FIVE

It’s not an easy job
One must know how to fight and rob
It’s not an easy occupation
One must have keen observation

You’ve got to look both ahead and behind
Someone with rough edges of a certain kind
Sympathy plays no part in what one must do
He has to be heartless and fearless too
 
Around every corner on every single block
Time is often of the essence so you watch the clock
Hanging out in one place too long is a big mistake
And there are also hard and fast rules one must never break

Such as a snake one must slither and slide
And also know when it’s time for you to hide
You never know who might be gunning for you alone
And your stare better be fearsome and stoic as stone

Civilians and police are enemies who want to take what you sell
You have sweat, fear and being caught to quell
The job is based basically on receiving and giving
So learn well if you’re going to sell dope for a living
   © 2011.…Pheeepoetree   ~free cee!~


Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011


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Rush

Hearts on fire adrenaline surge, 
  gear sped engines tooled and precise; 
gunning for dreams with a spirited urge, 
  high-pressure focus, cool as blue ice.

Accelerate flesh in a scorch of vibration, 
  motorhead jacked, turbo-charged smiles, 
flash and then blur in a zoom of sensation, 
  loaded with speed and eating up miles.

Chasing the dreams on a surface of tension, 
  jacked on a blood rush of infinite speed; 
smoking velocity, driven intention, 
  the will to survive, the rush to succeed...


Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005