Best Slinger Poems
Here’s a short story of a cowboy I knew
Whose name was Beg Your Pardon.
He wasn’t a gun slinger in the usual way,
Though his hands were fast
And his foots were faster.
But when Beg started shootin’
There was nuthin’ but disaster.
No worries for Beg, he had none you see,
Since he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
But his pappy got ugly
And yelled in his son’s face,
“Until you can shoot
As the son of mine should,
I want you the h*** out of my place.”
Beg had some tricks up his very long sleeves,
Coz he wasn’t a slinger in the usual way.
He’d show his pappy his skill
There’s no doubt about that.
Yet time was a-wasten
So Beg he did hasten,
But first he took off his hat.
He then wound up his body like a Kansas twister
And slung a cow pie in his usual way.
And broke every record
Did our cow pie ringer.
Since there was no one better,
Pappy exclaimed to his son,
“Beg Your Pardon, I beg your pardon
Heck, you’re some kinda’ slinger!”
For Wild Wild West Contest
Categories:
slinger, cowboy-western, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
They call me the BBQ slinger
Well known for my back to back ringers
My aim is dead true
When I'm tossin' them shoes
I could wrap round' a bumble bee stinger.
My skill with the irons well known
These rookies all covet my throne
I'm the king of the pit
They best deal with it
Cause these beers put me right in the zone
I'll conquer till' no one remains
And brag of ice water filled veins
Not even a test
to prove I'm the best
And poised to continue my reign.
Categories:
slinger,
Form:
Limerick
He was young,
Had his guns on his hip.
Walkin the streets,
With a cigar on his lip.
The town folk were scared,
They knew what he could do.
They have seen what he done,
To a chosen few.
The leather he wore,
Was stained from the powder of his gun.
A sign of the battles,
That the slinger had won.
A family moved in,
That no one knew.
A white man,
And a wife that was sious.
The young man decided,
The lady would not survive.
Because of her color,
She would die.
In the street,
In the middle of town,
This is where the slinger,
Where he gunned her down.
The white man,
Anger in his eyes,
Decided to give the slinger,
A surmise.
Leave this town,
Be gone by noon at best,
Or feel a bullet from my gun,
Deep in you'r chest.
The slinger smiled,
I am too fast,
You are an ole man,
You'r time has past.
You'r time has come ole man,
Take you'r stand,
But I tell you now,
Better have a fast hand.
When the smoke cleared,
The slinger lay on the ground,
With the white man,
looking down.
The slinger had just one last request,
How did you learn to shoot that way?
The white man answered,
I'm the son of Doc Holiday.
Categories:
slinger, adventure, bullying, history, husband,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
An honest smile and truthful eyes
A road slinger who loves a surprise
A worker who dreams of the world
Needs the road and loves a whirl
Understands my past and hers
Comfortable with herself in showers
Loves good vibes and the bad
Appreciates the love and even the sad
Wants more to life than bottom line
Takes a random hint as a sign
Embraces silence for it is rare
Take a chance, perfect woman, if you dare
Categories:
slinger, hope, love, spiritual, woman,
Form:
Ballad
The Bony Finger
Investigator Carla received a bony finger
Tossed through her window by a mystery slinger
With it came a note that vexed her curious mind
“This finger’s all I took, the rest I left behind”
The note dared her to visit Windom Plantation
A haunted mansion of maligned reputation
Driving miles uphill to a “castle in the sky”
The old estate’s legacy began to petrify
Wind howled through broken windows as she opened the door
To find long-legged spiders crawling on the floor
Carla used her flashlight to explore each dark room
Shrieking cries emanated from one windowless tomb
Her cell phone in hand, Carla mustered the courage
With pulse pounding, she hoped rumors she’d disparage
Then she saw it, a shadow moving toward the attic
And all at once, Carla’s persona grew frantic
She followed it, climbing the attic stairs in haste
To find horror greater than that for which she’d braced
A destitute man who was missing every finger
Had sent notes like Carla’s to nine other sinners
It took but one soul with compassion and fortitude
To free this man from lonely, haunting solitude
*Posted on January 12, 2019
Submitted for Jenish Somada's "Let the Pens Flow" narrative contest
Categories:
slinger, horror, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
Simple Pleasures
© Ben Burton 4-7-2015
Remember when
In the heat of summer
Daddy would come home
And bark the delightful order
"Put on your bathing suits"
While he hooked up the hose pipe
To the front yard spigot
Streaking into your bedroom
Getting naked, giggling, nervous
Stumbling all about the hardwood
Trying to get your foot
Into the leg hole
Laughing at your ineptitude
Then, finally, wising up
Sitting on the bed
To finish the job
From outside, a yell
"Better get a move on
We don't have all day"
A rush of excitement
Running to the front door and
Stopping to gaze
At the coiled, green serpent
Spraying goose-bumps water
That you dread
And want as bad as anything
Slowly, descending the steps
Eyes locked on the hose-slinger
Who seems not to notice
As he mist-sprays a shrub
Then darting, defiantly, across the lawn
And coming to a halt
Bone dry, but for a few beads of sweat
"I'm too fast for you, Daddy"
Silence from the weapon wielder
Seemingly oblivious to your presence
Another sprint, a sudden turn
The full force of a blast to your torso
Evoking a scream
Of agony and exhilaration
Lasting but twenty minutes
Of a July afternoon
Yet, creating
An irrevocable childhood memory
Life's simple pleasures
Still the best
Categories:
slinger, childhood, fun, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Slinger
Waiting on the day
for the Swallow to transmute the air
between this ether and yours
patterned after an annual bedsheet
and full of a chest
swelling with blood
and a face
as forgotten as chests
buried beneath sea tides,
legendary rainbows wide
over forgetfulness -- subtle forgetfulness --
collecting material for a nest; a grave, sour
maw of disappearing Now
reappearing in your eyes
next to anti-eyes
'ere smilin' hell at this faster incompletion.
Tiptoe.
Mirror
Select. Load? Holster. Stalk? Draw.
"Do you have a moment, Miss Seer? Look what I've drawn."
Bourbon. Ex-mark. Tattoos. Born. Into
This.
Surreal. It Does. Only
Roulette. Hocus Poker. Reaching A Final Frontier
Divvy:
Brown Eyes
Coal Eyes
Wall Sockets
L.
Fire Tides
Genocides
Suit Pockets
Knell.
Slinger
You perceive a safety I count on
as we all fear we will lose
something
crucial? What is ever crucial if already
revenants bustle chameleon beneath city lights perfectly
regarding lights in wonder with other --
revenants.
I will appear before you
suddenly in the park
"Eden!"
you will laugh as though subtle darkness is a magic trick
and those anti-eyes will hide true feelings behind laughter
and I will shudder -- I once wore them, too --
and I will perceive these two sets of eyes before me,
Yours and Not Yours,
who cannot tell that this varsity jacket will soon hide more than
Sin. On your face. Syntax; Synonym; Smiling -- Antonym.
Drawn. Holes. Your face -- too memorable -- too
unforgetful, they dream
Forever Now. Beyond Sleepy Hollows.
Dying by first light,
living beneath your iron sunsets?
Your red roses kissed blooming
out of your neck?
Forever; Us; Chasms,
Angel.
Mirror
Silence. Darkness.
Each Day. Random.
Today? No.
Where
is
He?
Categories:
slinger, dark, heart, image, light,
Form:
Free verse
A devils wind blew in
the stars covered the sky
smoke filled the air, not a soul to be heard
a ghost town full of fright
a wild heart on the loose
a gun slinger he'll shoot
his love is barren, broken with an arrow
on an eagles wing he flie's
a devils wind is blowing in
one's man love, barren among the crazy hearts
now he flie's..
Categories:
slinger, cowboy-western,
Form:
Light Verse
A devils wind blew in
the stars covered the sky
smoke filled the air
not a soul to be heard
a ghost town, full of fright
a wild heart on the loose
a gun slinger, he'll shoot
his love is barron
broken with an arrrow
on an eagles wing, he fly's
a devils wind is blowin' in
one mans love, barron among the crazy hearts
he now fly's
Categories:
slinger, cowboy-western,
Form:
Light Verse
With the challenge of writing a poem in the now
I reach for my pen, a lightning quick draw
Gun slinging the page with a six shooter of words
Letters ricocheting off of the page, escaping the poems claw
Defeating all who dare to challenge my ink shooter
Walking tall in Poetry soup's Wild West
Poets work, slinging words left and right
We enter contest, to conquer and be the best
Today I'll spur the paper with cowboy up
Put my words down with the quickness
Winning the buckle of Glory
Riding this bull named "dirty business"
I'm riding off into the sunset another notch in my belt
The legend of the "Word Slinger" has begun
Conquering all from the east to the west
Riding in glory, clearing the dust second to none
------------------------------------------------------------------
Inspired by Matt caliri contest - Write now-
took me 30 minutes to write and type 8-19-09 had lots of fun!!!!!!!!!!
purely fictional :-)
Categories:
slinger, adventurewords, write, write,
Form:
Quatrain
Who'd have thought it so easy to run a great nation,
No requirement for Congress or Supreme Court confirmation.
All you needs a Twitter handle and Executive Orders,
That's his guarantee to secure our fine borders.
While the Constitution is one thing you shouldn't discount,
It appears to be one notch below his Facebook account.
So put down your protests and give him his due,
If the President tweets it you know it is true!
So far it's not been so great, maybe we've been took,
By a bigly bull slinger who's probably a crook.
With mindless occupation on hits, likes, and views,
Don't you need a fake president to dish out fake news?
The guy beaks off like a loon...his thoughts meander,
But sauce for the goose make sources for slander.
We may even glimpse hope every now and then,
Too bad YouTwitFace is mightier than the pen.
Categories:
slinger, parody, political, riddle, usa,
Form:
Rhyme
Gun slinger
Matt Zinger
Dressed in black
Didn't come back
High Noon
Was Doomed
Quick Draw
McGraw
Got A Rope
Hung that dope
Undertaker Called
Dead Body Hauled
Poured the whisky
From Junction 60
Dead Man's Trail
Where slingers failed
Categories:
slinger, adventure, cowboy-western, dedication, education,
Form:
Couplet
bone idle 'hippo'
wallowing in self pity
least your mud bath’s free!
In the context of THIS poem personification could also be used as the form.
05~17~17
Categories:
slinger, conflict, family, for her,
Form:
Senryu
city limits;on 2nd street and elizabeth avenue,near a tire shop,and its where billy
the kid the out law lived and died;as brushy bill,so sad,yet here stood by those
very same street names in real life,his last 3rd living descendent, generation gap
as i guess we could of called it now!he wasnt dead,like all would of like to
believed or masked;he was my son,mr pj bertrand jr,and me im his mom;norma
jay bertrand the writer4386/homeless international poet of the usa/07!in reality
how practical does that sound,but my son at 24 years of age looks more
idenitical to him every day,its gets kinda spooky!in and out of hico,texas,except
here he was by the same stop sign holding a white plastic sign with a christian
quote on that read on wed,oct 26,05 can gods people help this family in
america;why?we that is i and my family was out on a personal fundraiser walk on
our own;since we were victims of both hurricanes and had no address physically
and lived in our suv;that eventually quit.no organizations cared and femur refused
to aid us;so we did it on our own,headed toward dublin,texas no less;off hw y6
north west for that one paticular night,it was where no one was giving rides and
only passing us by;like a real loser we felt inside;in and out of hico,texas,what
they didnt want to realise;billy the kid wasnt missing he was right there by my
side on the side of a abandoned house of white stone;resting my shattered knee
caps due to my bone cancer,on 2nd street and elizabeth avenue i was then
petting billy the kid who resemblance could kill a real deer that happened by! and
it could of been seen on the back on a rural map;its where njay wrote this on the
side of the ditch,if the residents came up and some would be in literal tears
telling him do you know who you look like;he could only nod yes mam or sir!and
sigh!believe it!ask the manager of chicken express cafe america;if you think i
lie;its more than just a word of mouth!i and he was both in and out of hico ,texas
and thankgod it wasnt in the south;yet no body asked how?nor had the nerve to
smile or laugh!or saw wowl!his living legacy america!is in actual replica on your
streets;a remake of the notorious gun slinger of the west in and out of hico,texas
call me and you can see him more than twice;at 409-679-5423
Categories:
slinger, cowboy-western, history, family, family,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
The air slipped onto the gramaphone the needle cutting me bleeding on the floor as mannequins watched with there masquerade masks sewn on took my arm saying "care to dance my lady" as we waltzed into the night transcending emotions filled the room with essence as i laid head rested on his shoulders looking up around surround sound saying " i didnt think mannequins could tarantella like that " in the ballroom swinging in symetry.
Blood clotted dirt in the wound muddy dark night, disfigured body parts the flicker in my mind goes out again like a light in an obfuscated room, Drug fueled visions bottle hanging through whos that climbing through the windows fingertips single flick of the light switch painting of that ditch under the morgue worn torn asunder plunder linger gun slinger sling your hook look the parties over.
Categories:
slinger, dance, drink, gothic, mental
Form:
Lyric