Best Out Of Town Poems
It was now growing dark as the sun was going down
When a stranger rode into Soup Creek, a frontier town
No one could see his face, he was all dressed in black
An old boy was heard to say "I think he's come back".
He took his horse to the stable, then went to the boarding house
Before he went in looked across the street, to the town jailhouse
There was a familiar figure sat outside, in a rocking chair
Cradling a Winchester and the stranger, felt his cold stare.
He'd returned after all these years; he had something to prove
And just after a few days back in town, he would make his move
But Sheriff Koplin is no fool and he had planned up far ahead
And had formed a posse whilst the stranger slept in his bed.
Three fiesty girls from the saloon, Jan and Jenna, Tania too
And a Texas ranger called David who was just passing through
With gambler Milton who was deadly, with a colt forty five
And Tom the undertaker who looked more dead than alive.
It was the evening of the showdown; the stranger came out of the saloon
The sun was now setting but the tension had been building up since noon
From his holster he withdrew his pistol and then fired shots up into the air
The stranger was not one for living a peaceful life and he just didn't care.
Sheriff Koplin approached him and said "Hand over your gun"
And the stranger replied "Lighten up man, I'm just having fun"
The stranger was laughing now and looking down at his feet
The townsfolk were nervous and had disappeared off the street.
Then behind the stranger came a shout in a loud Texas drawl
It was Jenna disguised as an old woman, covered with a shawl
"You heard the sheriff " she shouted, "Put your gun on the ground"
The air was now thick with tension and you couldn't hear a sound.
Then from nowhere the rest of the posse appeared pistols in hand
They abhorred bullies and conflict and were prepared to make a stand
The stranger realised he couldn't win and threw his gun down
Walked to the livery stable to get his horse, and rode out of town.
The drama was now over but it could have gone either way
Sheriff Koplin and his posse restored peace, and had won the day
It was now days end in Soup Creek in that peaceful frontier town
All you could hear were chirping crickets as the sun was going down.
Written on 20th May 2022.
help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
Forgive intrusion in the fray
I'm making comments today
Tom's limericks, three
were cute as can be
But of Kim and Jack, I must say.....
We all know how well Kim can write
She graces each page of the site
But limerick queen
Jan is a machine
There's no cause to argue or fight (all done in fun)
Limerick's have a syllable count
Ya can't use just any ol amount
Jack uses too many
His words aplenty
It's a problem he must surmount
It's the same with Shakespeare's sonnet
No matter whose name is on it
There's one Scotland Yard
And only one Bard
No imitators, doggone it
Don't get stalled with rhyme and meter
Sometimes prose can read much sweeter
Write what's in your heart
Poetry is art
Pick up your pen and don't teeter
No showdowns here; we're having fun
Put away your slingshot and gun
Not calling the law
Just havin' a jaw
Don't run me out of town...I'm done
With pitchforks and torches they rode through the night,
their goal was Milton Creek, by dawns early light.
A surprise attack was what they had foreseen,
led by the infamous, lollipop queen.
With a group of ringed men, she’d deceived and collected,
they rode for the jail, for the first one she’d infected.
In shackles and chains, her best awaited his trial,
I can’t say his name, so we’ll just call him Kyle.
Old Kyle was arraigned for a snake oil ruse,
he claimed to sell medicine but was just peddling booze.
They stopped just out of town by farmer Bill’s pig pen,
where they all shared a lollipop, and a *Cornish game hen*.
Rested and fed, they all headed for town,
their plan was to free Kyle and turn his frown upside down.
There were many new graves that we helped Mayor Tom to dig,
we could smell them all coming, they were pungent like a pig.
Little did they know how Milton Creek was protected,
we watched each other’s back, and our defense was perfected.
David and Terry, were perched on the roof of the jail,
I stood right out front with my leaded cocktail.
Tania and Jan were on the top of the saloon,
Milton was keeping watch, as he played a catchy tune.
Deb was on the ground, locked and loaded,
Lin had Jenna’s Winchester and some dynamite to be exploded.
*a Cornish game hen is produced from a cross between the Cornish and white Plymouth rock chicken breeds, it is served young and immature weighing no more than two pounds*
A. W. Nutter
Fog from my breath in the way
Temporarily impeding my vision
A small lamp, illuminates my prey
Unaware, of his impending execution
Rons wife, conveniently out of town
Visiting a sick relative, her perfect alibi
She must really despise this clown
I wonder if she kissed the fool goodbye
Staying in the shadows around the house
Dressed in black, invisible in the darkness
Entering their kitchen, quiet as a mouse
Through a window, left unlocked on purpose
From the first bedroom a child moans
Peering at the bed and the sleeping boy
The husband was supposed to be left alone
She'll pay dearly for this unexpected ploy
With the silencer in place I wake up Ron
He dresses quickly picking up his keys
Protesting will endanger his bastard son
He drives us deep into the forest of trees
Removing my mask he views his twin
Staring into the face of his supine form
Before he can protest I commit the sin
Then pray for God to help me reform
Burning the body along with the gun
Quickly driving home to start my new life
Showering, I slip into bed with my son
Real father and mother now husband and wife
My name is Gary Fields
And I am at the Poetry Convention
Their are a myriad of Poet's
They are all in contention
There are so many that I may
Want to mention'
So, pay attention
Fore they must do this
In abstention
At my table there are three
Their are four including me
The second choice in my contention
IS Dr. Ram Mehta
He is such an easy catch
He is a voice/a reflection
He shares' so much love and affection
Being one of so few words
His disposition is the best
And his Human Psyche will
Never rest'
Could this be some sort of test
That his deepest guarded secret's
Are guarded close to his chest
Being a doctor and all
It is unlikely that he will ever confess
Third at the table is the X DESTROYER X POET
Due to the lack of word's
She always' have something for ya
And will certainly destroy ya
If not, then simply ignore ya
Fore she deserves' to seat here
And not just on the foyer
It is a main bone of contention
There is no reason why I can't enjoy ya
Or at least releave the tension
With her advanced degree
her suplituding pensoin for Poetry
It seems' that her messages' are
Aimed straight for me
She give's to this her all
She never seem to miss a call
And to past the test
One may think that
She seem's to be a little obsessed
Most of all
She keeps' her secret
Buried so close to her breast
And what wonderful breast they
Might be
Only saving for us
The one's she profess to be the best
But never the less
She rises' among the rest
Fouth at the table is Ms. Sweetheart of Poetry
Wish she will spend more Poetry with me
And plain not just ignore me
Because I'm a fan of her now
She introduced me to this race
She is all ways' on the case
She is fully comfortable in her space
I just hope that she won't have to use
All of her mace,
She composes' herself with grace
Fore this is so much an adventure
And not just some silly old Snail Race
If I haven't said enough by now
Then it is because I am running
Out of space, or being run out of town
But, there is always one next year
Same time, manybe not
The same old place
GF
Gary Fields
Dr. Ram Mehta
X DESTROYER X POET
LINDA Marie/Sweetheart of Poetry
Carol (Next on Deck)
*******For the Contets "Tt The Convention
JUNE 2011
We read about the slaughter in a place far overseas,
where the multicultural blending has been there for centuries.
Where church of all denominations have been standing side by side.
Where neighbours have been neighbourly; respect seemed to abide.
Seems that politics and power can infiltrate a settled mind;
dig up and open wounds of what is yours and what is mine,
take citizens back into time and drag out all their roots …
be wary of your ogre neighbour, they have a gun that shoots.
Begin to see those simple folk who lived their simple lives,
follow restlessly and blindly as belief or race revives,
those that helped them yesterday really had a cunning plan,
all they really wanted was, to find a way to cut you down.
Throw them all out on the streets; run them out of town.
Ethnic cleanse the country to make it pure and sound.
If they refuse to leave our home and opt to make a stand -
build a force of vigilantes, to roam and cut them down.
What started as a trickle soon turns into a flood.
The cup that fills with honey can also be filled with blood.
The taste that once was bitter now is the taste that's lusted for,
when seeking out the enclaves to go killing more and more.
A house, once a home of peace stands a shattered monument,
to let the remnants hanging on know what to expect.
Heads displayed on pikes are cheered; graves hold hundreds more.
Babes are sport for bayonets; forgot is what we're fighting for.
Can't live side by side now; there's too much terror going on.
Battle lines are clearer; the sane have taken leave and gone.
Cannons roaring day and night; lines must stand holding fast.
For anyone that's over-run, that day becomes their last.
When the dust has settled and the criminals are hung,
Hate subsides back to the memory; the clean-up has begun.
Do we realize as bloodstains fade; we have a deep rooted call …
needing one spark to set us off - there could be murder in us all.
Out walking on the beach alone,
Waves breaking with a somber tone.
I was only a stumble
From cracking up and crashing down.
Old driftwood and a weathered shell;
Lone inmate in a private hell.
I'd been telling myself
I should take my business out of town.
Bad karma plucked a sour string.
No music, just the same damn thing.
I'd been singin’ the blues
With a heavy feeling in my gut.
Faith, charity, but not much hope;
All tangled in the hangin’ rope.
You can't open a window
If someone's gone and nailed it shut.
Just then she came and took my hand,
Said, "Got a minute, sailor man."
Her assertive approach
Caught me unprepared and way off guard.
She rattled me with sunset eyes,
Full frontal, wearing no disguise,
Her horizon aflame
With a sexy charm that hit me hard.
She teased me with her silhouette.
I smiled and said, "I'll see your bet."
It was getting on dark,
So I took the hint and got undressed.
I'm sure we musta broke some law.
No telling what the seagulls saw.
If they’d called the police
We'd be lucky to avoid arrest.
Some risks aren't really worth the chance.
Sometimes it doesn't pay to dance,
But the answer that night
Was to call her on a double dare.
I'll gamble, though I never bluff.
She's coy, but then I dig that stuff.
It's enough to get lucky
When you wager on a winning pair.
When it seems the world turns upside down
I am airborne by problems, falling
Seeking serenity to erase my frown
While wanting to run out of town
I can hear the mountains calling
Where strength resides and is renewed
Where the slopes of serenity shine
With all the beauty to be viewed
To study my path to be pursued
Some choices in my destiny are mine!
Heidi Sands
4/5/18
*Placed 2nd in the Rhyme 2 contest.
Rhyme: A-B-A-A-B C-D-C-C-D
I will look to times no more,
to this girl of eleven;
to the old house on the perfect street,
I loved it there, we loved it,
the worn wood floors,
the big olden kitchen,
the lovely flowers mom grew outside,
I will never forget the trees, the drooping green;
the pond where ducks drifted,
feeding the squirrels nuts.
But, one night fire took our home,
we were out of town visiting;
returning to this empty shell destroyed,
gone my dolls, my teddies, my books, my kitten,
gone mom's photos, our everything.
We stood in shock together on the street weeping,
neighbours comforting us;
the truth sinking into our souls,
our wounds of loss open wide, bleeding,
our grief of my sisters not long gone demise fresh.
Mom held her precious new born boy tight,
holding me by her side, oh how I cried !
Thinking how much more God ?
Trying something new , If you think you see something or someone you recognise .
It is purely coincidental.
I met a romantic queen
and made love to her in a dream
Her mum said . Put him down
Drive him out of town
You've no idea where he's been .
I have a friend named A.D.
I adore all of her poetry
Her writing puts me to shame
but when she mentions my name
I feel like she's flirting with me.
A beautiful lady named Nette
Said she wouldn't be kissed for a bet
but a gentleman I aint
If I kissed her she'd faint
and she'd be forever in my debt.
Our very good friend Tim
Swore a beautiful woman was stalking him
but since he's been missing
He's discovered French kissing
Now our chances of finding him are slim.
I know a young lady named SKAT
When she makes love, She purrs like a cat
She is such a cute kitten
I admit I am smitten
and I wouldn't mind hearing that.
We have a beautiful friend named F.J.
I asked what she knew about kissing one day
I could tell from her wink
She knows more than we think
and a lot more than she's willing to say.
LOL
I'll work on it.
Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.
One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!
He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.
The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.
He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.
There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.
It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.
Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul!
The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.
May 9, 2017
I was only twelve back then,
It seems like yesterday.
I suppose these terrifying memories I have,
Will never go away.
Gendarmes after Gendarmes,
Came to our town.
They took my oldest brothers,
And shot them to the ground.
My heart began to sink,
As my Mother screamed and cried.
She sat beside their bleeding bodies,
A part of us just died.
Early one morning,
I woke to a sound.
It was hundreds of Armenians,
Marching out of town.
Soon after they took my Father,
They came back for us.
They told us to quiet,
So there would be no fuss.
We marched and we marched,
To a dark rancid inn.
With the hope and wonder,
Of ever seeing daylight again.
My brother Sisak and I,
Escaped from their evil wrath.
We walked back to Bitlis,
On a well beaten path.
We searched for food,
Just like we said we would.
We wished and we prayed,
But it didn't do any good.
My brother soon starved to death,
But I had to carry on.
To tell this story of a Forgotten Fire,
A battle that I won.
The Turkish soldiers came,
And caused so much strife.
They wanted to kill everyone,
Obliterate all Armenian life.
I was only twelve back then,
It seems like yesterday.
I suppose these terrifying memories I have,
Will never go away.
Do you dare to hear this story,
listen to the rant of a cuckold tale
This story will give you nightmares
if your masculinity has begun to fail
Despondent voice of said henpecked man
was recorded secretly at a support group therapy session
He swear he loves his wife,
don't know why he picked up the knife
Says he has a wonderful life,
but something is not quite right
Then he contradicts what he just said,
the reasons why are mixed up in his head
He confess that he just wanted to scare her ...
frighten her bad
But he wasn't too convincing,
she only started to laugh
She commanded him to put the knife down,
then started to throw her 130-pound weight around
Used sex as the ultimate weapon,
said love was going out of town ... indefinitely
He said he begged like never before,
pleading with her to please don't leave out the door
Said she just slapped his pride on the backside,
told him the bank account was gonna take a nosedive
Raised her eyebrows and gave a baleful stare,
then said he was having it too good
He said when she gets to talking like that,
he's learned over time not to say anything back
Letting out a small sigh, he said
he simply becomes a docile little boy
and go sit elsewhere
Says the only time he roars like a lion,
is when she tries to take away his adult toys
Trying to stop him from getting season tickets
is gonna cause him to make a lot of noise
So she just let him be for awhile,
let him calm down ... give him a warm smile
He said being henpecked ain't so bad,
he gets his favorite meal after breaking mad
Yet and still, he seemed kinda sad
Now that the group therapy is over,
he said his wife is gonna come get him
And make a point to remind him
of how he dresses so bad
That he's such a loser, just like her dad
Standing at the plate there is no doubt
The pitcher is determined to strike me out
He squints to see the catcher's glove
Then spins and swings his arms above
The ball scorches a path across the plate
I feebly swing six days too late
The umpire acts like he's having fun
When he bellowed out, "STRIKE ONE!"
Again the pitcher stares at the dish
While I silently make a wish
Not a big request at all
I only want to hit the ball
The pitcher rears back and throws a curve
The ball starts over there and then begins to swerve
I miss so badly I hit the ground
I can hear people laughing all the way back in town
The umpire is having a belly laugh too
As he holds up two fingers and shouts, "STRIKE TWO!"
The pitcher is doing a cocky dance
While behind the mound hiking up his pants
He looks smug and I hear the catcher say,
"Give it up boy, he's putting you away."
The pitcher shakes off signs 1,2,3
He's saving a special pitch just for me
He peeks out over the top of his glove
I can tell that this strikeout he already loves
He winds up like a crazy corkscrew
Slinging a pitch he has never threw
I close my eyes and jerk the bat
Somehow the bat finds where the ball is at
The crack was the loudest ever heard
Nowhere in this stadium can you hear a word
You can hear a pin drop in this place
Nary a smile on any face
You would think that ball was launched into outer space
But alas, it is just a dribbler to first base
I feel I should get out of town
When I saw the other team high-fiving on the mound
Dad said, "Don't worry son, we'll get them next time champ."
After all it was just my first bat at Little League camp!