Best Jesse Poems
Two empty coffins...with unknown names
Saved for the unfortunates...of Jesse James
Made for the men, they say...Jesse killed
Only a matter of time, they'll both...be filled
An Epitaph To Make Me Laugh Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jesse Rowe
4-22-2019
The sun was blaring down
That August afternoon
When Jesse came into the town
Of Early Blossom Bloom
The sun had blistered up his skin
His shoes were worn and tired
The clothes he wore upon his back
Was all that he acquired
Jesse was a loner
Traveled light and all alone
No family he could speak of
No place to call a home
For food and basic shelter
He would trick upon the street
For a twenty dollar bill
His throat would be a treat
His body aged and weary
From the life now forced to live
A new found way of living
No man had chose to give
The effort once put forth
Strength he no longer had
To earn an honest living
A concept he didn’t have
What would come of Jesse
No trade to call his name
In life he loved so many men
Each one a different way
But love for him was just a fix
An action he would show
Not something that would stick around
And nourish his inner soul
He travels to the city
In hopes to find a friend
One last fool to take
Before giving up his sin
But in this town
There was no one
To cater Jesse’s ways
No place for him to go and stay
Or a simple bed to lay
He sat down on the park bench
As dusk filled up the sky
Weary from the journey made
In hunger he did cry
In life he played a hell of a dance
No partner came to stay
Deep down afraid
The city streets
Would be his home to stay
In Jesse’s heart was anger
For the people passed him by
Not one kind word was spoke to him
He sat alone and cried
His prayers of some compassion
Were seemingly unheard
This was life for him now
Banished from the world
He died that night a lonely man
On the park bench all alone
Laid to rest in a lonely grave
The place he now calls home
The life and times of Jesse
Now just a memory
He was a man most would forget
For shame of his company
Think back on the life and times
That Jesse brought to earth
Would you have shown compassion?
If you seen him all alone
Who is to say who is to judge
For a life lived on the streets
For Jesse it was all he knew
And all he could ever be
dear tall child,
your bones probably don't fit your frame yet;
they shift awkwardly,
and your spine hunches and slopes.
your hands are likely to be dry and grimy,
legs speckled with ant bites
that sting like fire.
spending those arid days snatching lizards off the hot terracotta wall,
next to the withered rose garden belonging to your shouting mother.
unfortunately for you,
the shouting will never stop;
your mother will bleed her vocal chords raw
trying to scare out your soul to place of her own.
there will be so much hardship,
but you will learn so so much.
so much.
to drown the world out,
just think about horses.
she will see you as strange
no matter what you do
just hop in the saddle
tighten the reins, grip the mane,
put your filthy Velcro sneakers into the stirrups,
and think about horses.
you will be a weird girl, it will hurt.
but suffering is just suffering,
and voices are just words.
you will become a strange young man, dear cowboy-
but you will always be that tall child.
a dear,
dear tall child
Jesse James
hang your head
really?
Jesse Forbes
1893 – 1911
Black Canyon.
Now, there was a place to be!
It is true I was born a brute in a Quaker Town.
Born a bad-tempered brute of a boy
In the two-room digs on Bailey Street and Comstock..
My father fathered two other families,
Unbeknownst to his wife..
And I was the first one disowned.
But my father was a great believer,
And I loved the man like a fool.
I took up the milkin’ business at fourteen,
And made my morning way from Orange Drive down to Penn Street.
Delivering the dozens of clinking milk bottles.
Delivering the dozens of morning salutations,
To neighbors and friends in the glad and dismal days.
I had but one romantic interlude in my short stay,
Just one futile attempt at Carpe Diem.
But was left slapped and standing by a disheveled Ethel Hurst
There in the dark shade of Black Canyon
That inauspicious August day in 1910.
Ethel Hurst did not accept the entreaties of a 17 year old brute.
Did not accept my wild stares
Or my insanely puckered lips.
It was to my surprise that I died.
Died so young and so unready.
Still desiring the perfumed kisses of Ethel Hurst,
Still desiring her heart-quenching embraces,
There, in the dark shade of Black Canyon.
Jesse Evans and The Boys earned much notoriety
during the old west's most untamed and wild history.
Raiding resturants and salloons they would drink and eat for free.
"Chalk it up!" they'd say to all of the merchants before they'd leave,
and riding along with them was one William H Bonney,
known as William Antrim formerly
and speaking Spanish fluently.
Three months earlier he was but a young boy of fifteen,
orphaned, scared, alone and in desperate need.
Now he was holding his own among outlaw killers and theives.
Such a feat for a small young boy of his stature wasn't easily achieved.
He was a prime target for this dangerous gang of thug bullies
who would often abuse him, make fun of and tease.
The kid was forced to face a very hard reality.
He could just take it and be miserable, or he could leave,
or show them all that he was a force to be respected and taken seriously.
He began practicing his shooting skills regularly,
hitting his target everytime and with lightening speed.
On his horse he would shoot at anything and everything,
whether he was stationary or whether he was moving
from every single possible concievable position
and always hit his target with such accurate precision.
Once for fun one outlaw shot the kid's hat off of his head.
The kid returned fire shooting the hat off of the outlaw's head.
Holding his pistol trained on his intended, the kid coldly said,
"I could kill you right now. I could kill you dead,
but I'm hungry and I would rather eat instead."
The kid returned to his meal and nothing more was done or said.
His message was crystal clear; Respect Me Or You're Dead
and from that moment on, respect him they all did.
Jesse Evans and The Boys now all took very seriously this Billy, this kid.
I won't begin to list his jobs
because we’ve heard them all,
from confederate raider to stick
up man, he had a bad man’s gaul
His fame spread with noteriety
across the Yankee plain, but he was
just an outlaw man, he don’t deserve
no fame
But in them days, imagination ruled
the newsman’s pen, and outlaws were
the magic, that ruled the why and when
Some said he was a Robin Hood and
helped the wretched poor, there is no
record of this game, Cole Younger
new the score
While home one day in leafy fall
he moved a picture on the wall,
Bob Ford shot Jesse’s 45, trustful
friend did not survive
And for his efforts, Bob “the coward” got
a shotgun to the throat, cos folks were
getting downright tired, of the back-shooter’s
sickly tote.
And though we like the stirrin turns we think
a bandits life, give thought to poor Zerelda,
Jesse's sad dear wife
Lost in shame and washing clothes to make
a cent or two, she died in rotten poverty
as Jesse’s legend grew.
But Jesse was an icon, his” adventure” we still crave,
and in today’s confection, still we think him brave.
And now they’re lying side by side, in St Joseph’s
cemetary, and if you mused where they’re took,
their waiting Hades ferry.
Well they done took away ma pension
whilst I waren’t payin no tention.
Never thought thet thar could happen,
Seems ma face they keep a slappin'.
Ah trusted all them folk thet said ah could,
ah took their word like they sed ah should,
but now ah see they jest a bunch a thieves,
Take all ya got and knock ya to yer knees.
Use ta was be you could tell a liar,
plain’s ya could the town crier,
Now they got sneakier ways,
from lots a practice these days.
Them banks and the government’s in cahoots.
Reckon they standin’ in each others boots.
Whisht ah’d a knowed they wuz gonna play those games
Ah’d a set much lower aims.. maybe like …Jesse James.
Done asked a lawyer onced bout business and ethics.
He laughed and said “Bob, business and ethics don’t mix!”
Never heered anybody say that right out loud…
Still laughin’ at me,.. he walked away proud.
Yep, maybe I’d a set much lower aims…
Reckon I’d a understood… Jesse James.
JESSE JACKSON - KOSOVO MISSION
Belgrade, 1999
They thought to the west
and the homes they all knew
in a meloncholy dark and blue,
these three of a kind on a mission of peace,
these three knights willing to die for you.
America's best
they had dreams of their own,
but now held in a land and alone
where everything is hate and loose in a world
that beats with a heart of stone.
A man from the south;
of their home now unreal,
like a dream time can never steal;
who had hope still alive that love conquers all,
and a love he'll always feel.
His sword was his word,
and he spoke them so well;
they tolled like a liberty bell
Jesse Jackson was truth and light from us all
and the three are now home from hell.
** This poem is in memory of Jesse Lewis. Jesse was a six-year old boy who died in the Sandy Hook Shooting. Jesse died while leading the other children to safety.
He rides to the place of glory.
He rides to the place of the Lord.
Jessie will sometimes act like the pint-sized Scrooge to make the angels and people laugh and smile.
He had a lot of courage and love inside of him.
Now he will go horseback riding.
Helping people ride into the gates of heaven.
You were born with me
there were two of us
we were side by side
once upon a time
wished on a star
Both now with mom
she holds you tight
gives you a kiss
every night
Reflections
your spirits
together
brothers
again
Twins
Crazy alot
Always sweet 2 me no doubt
Polite at times
Rough at others
Insane i think
Clock's tickin start 2 drink
On ur ass soon u might b
Runnin thru my mind
Never another will i find
Jesse was a common man
he never made a lot of money
he had a troubled marriage.
His wife left him for another man
he never saw his kids again.
Although he never wrote a book
he read hundreds of them
trying to solve riddles in his life.
But Jesse had a lisp, you see,
and others liked to laugh.
After he died last week
the undertaker poured his ashes
over the edge of an ocean cliff.
He liked to watch eagles dive
and carry away big fish.
Jesse was a common man
as are we whose whole is
greater than our parts.
But Jesse had a lisp, you see,
and others liked to laugh.
Donal Mahoney
Jesse F. Hunnicutt
1867-1908
They placed me near the gate, there,
My tall tombstone rising above all the others;
All were friends and neighbors way back when,
We Worked and worshipped together, in the presence
Of our Lord creator, and savior most wondrous.
They are all dead now, but are alive evermore in his grace.
Step inside this dead world, my friends.
Come closer, over here; Me and May are soundly sleeping
Here waiting, in the walnut shadows,
Down, way down here, sleeping the dreams of life and love,
Down, way down here…waiting…
Inside this heaping bed of rotting bones,
Dancing gaily in still death, as we once did,
Years ago, alive and alone,
Hidden deeply in the orange fields,
We touched our baptism with water, and fire!
And saw our god in the clouds that day.
Jesse Lasky met Boris Spasky
Musket musk-catty spider husky
Lasky's knight cooked Spasky's rook
Spasky's queen is spider's spook
Bishop stomped heyho where is Cash key ?