Best Tale Poems
William Bonny AKA Billy The Kid
A Tale Of Billy The Kid
By Robert Gorelick
“Quien esta?”
Bang! It’s over,
you’re a legend now,
Billy.
Born in Hell’s Kitchen in
ramshackle consumptive squalor,
New York’s crammed gang infected
rat-infested shacks
and alleys.
Amid the iniquitous stench
of rot and the soul’s decay,
in a nation at war,
pulling, stretching, ripping
to shreds the frayed fabric
of its precarious union.
An abused juvenile fleeing west
emerging from the muck
to where a soul and body
may heal, breathe deeply,
expand.
At last—life
New Mexico territory spreads open
and wide, easy to be seduced by cynical
range-war ranchers’ welcome greetings
they pay you well for
every cattle rustled,
then desert you as you flee the
sheriff’s posse.
“Quien esta?”
With a concealed knife
you stab a drunken gambler,
self-defense is no excuse
as the ruffian had
important friends.
You’re set to hang, Billy
in a daring display
you shoot your way out,
steal a horse and gallop
off to your woodland
shanty.
Midnight, your shack’s pitch dark,
there’s breathing nearby,
your Mexican novia?
Why doesn’t she speak?
“Quien esta?”
Bang. Pat Garrett guns
you down.
A throw away kid from big city squalor,
becomes a legend of the wild west.
You’re a legend, Billy
1/8/23
Metrical Tale Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
'Willow Weep'
The willow
Tree
Is standing
There
Without a
Thought,
Without a
Care.
Anchored deep
It hugs
The earth,
No hint
Of laughter
None of
Mirth.
It softly
Sways
In gentle
Breeze
That barely
Touches
Other trees.
With slender
Leaves
And branches
Long,
Its cooing
Now
A mournful
Song.
But why
So sad,
This stately
Tree
That stands
So tall,
And seems
So free.
What event
In ancient
Time
Now leads
Us to
Much metric
Rhyme,
Of weeping
Willows
Crying softly,
Bearing sadness
Standing loftly.
A contradiction
This weeping
Tree,
That brings
Such joy
To you
And
Me.
I was taking out my trash can
When I thought I saw a worm
But I realized it was a caterpillar
When the thing began to squirm
It crawled across the cobblestone
And made its way onto the grass
But when my puppy went to do his thing
It wound up on its a...
My puppy tried to get it off
By rolling in the dirt
He rolled so fast, came off his a...
And it landed on my shirt
It crawled onto my collar
Then, it crawled into my hair
So, I shuck my head and flung it off
And it flew into the air
A bird upon my roof-top
Caught the 'pillar in mid-flight
And fed it to his chickadees
Before they tweeted... a sweet Good Night!
Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
1/4/2023
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
We have a laugh, and drink a beer,
Play some golf, and hunt for deer.
Your patience and wisdom, is without test,
Your confidence and clarity, is at its best.
Mentor and Dad, is what you are,
Saved and glad, your faith will go far.
I’m thankful and blessed, with a father like you,
Proud at its best, for the little things that you do.
Love and care, are words that I say,
Friendship to share, on Happy Father’s Day!
To: “Pop”
Love,
The road to heaven
It seems so long,
Its short, so short
Where time belong
It's curves, it's hills
And it's potholes, too,
Beat and bruise
As I stumble through
Tramplin' the dirt
And nearly dyin',
Finding my feet
And still I'm tryin'
Cryin' out for help
'Til I am hoarse,
Beaten paths do open
But, I stay the course
Just take it slow
Come rain, come shine,
The road to heaven
The way is mine.
(January 12th, 2023)
where is she? where is she? asked the emperor
the lady with the candle must not be found...
do you think the captain of this ship is blind?
the anchored ship must not be caught...
the baby in the cradle starts to sob
but no one near must be found...
the red cap! the red cap! says the man in white
it is the moment when the lightning must strike...
the red carpet and the fall of crown
she must not be found,lady in light pink gown...
It was the best of tines; it was the worst of tines.
It lay, distraught, in silence on the road.
He came around the curve, saw it too late to swerve;
the puncture caused his front tire to explode.
A silver-plated fork, her lineage was perhaps York;
a heritage of which she’d long lost track.
Her dreams as ballerina, faded like her patina;
now, pits and scars festooned her neck and back.
Her mind played back her fall, the horror of it all;
despairing life, she hoped it would end soon.
At first, upon a dare, burlesque with the flatware,
to end in shame, pimped by a plastic spoon.
Not wanting to be saved, she’d crawled out on the paved,
and waited for the crush when all went flat.
But in that car’s careening, her life took on new meaning;
an unexpected blowout saw to that.
For there, just up ahead, a kitten, surely dead,
was spared as the man slammed upon the brake.
Once stopped, he now could see her mewling pitifully;
he gently scooped her up to calm her shake.
Then, trying not to swear, he wrestled with the spare
and stowed the blown-out tire in the boot.
That’s when he saw her, mangled, her tines all at odd angles,
a fork that placed them all upon this route.
And so with certain care, he also placed her there
beside the kitten, on the padded seat.
Now straightened out and polished, she watches York demolish
the breakfast that her tines scooped out to eat.
—————
for the Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
sponsored by Hilo Poet
written on 01/03/2022
Oh, where had my sweet love gone that morning
when later that day he’d met his death?
It was early January, cold and dreary
when he left unusually early without a word.
For days I wondered and I wondered
where my lover had gone!
A few days later his father came to me
bringing me as a token - the leather jacket
my lover had been wearing that horrid afternoon
when senselessly he had been killed
by a drunken reckless driver
as my lover used a crosswalk and got run down.
The night before his demise,
my love and I had kissed
underneath his umbrella in January’s rain.
I still recall him pressed against me
wearing that same leather jacket
which now I’m wearing as I walk home.
I press that leather jacket
tighter to my chest as I recall
how the whole world got washed away
that minute in the downpour that his lips met mine.
We’d run then to his apartment, flinging eagerly
our rain-soaked clothing to the floor.
Underneath the sheets, still cold and wet,
we passionately embraced.
How quickly I then warmed up
in my sweet lover’s arms.
His smile alone could always warm my soul.
He was my sun. He was my all!
The next morning when I awoke,
my love had already left. Never did I get
my usual call from him that afternoon.
Two days later I learned the reason why
when his father brought my lover’s jacket
and told me how his son had died.
So here I am now two weeks later.
Rain has begun to pour on this dreary day.
I let my fingers wander in the jacket pockets.
Something lies hidden beneath
the lining of one pocket; my fingers touch upon
a crumpled piece of paper! What can it be?
The small paper is a receipt from a jewelry store.
My love had apparently left early that fateful day
to purchase my surprise -a diamond engagement ring!
What happened to that ring? I will never know.
But that crumpled receipt reveals my lover’s secret,
and my tears fall bitter-sweetly with the rain.
1/12/2023
for Hilo Poet's Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
Hidden though unsought
Ran from myself
Still got caught.
Mind, Body, Soul wrought.
Vengeance no longer mine
And yet I insist to ungently reside
Within the "desperate to love or to be" walls of my own heart.
Most continue to disrespect my house
Yes, I live in my heart
I refuse stubbornly to give in or give up
Forcing my belligerent mouth to remain shut.
Gritting my teeth praying to abstain running away.
The displeasing words that knock on the back of the smile; forced
With an impatient desire to allow angry words to spill out, onto the floor, into their eyes until they can't see out.
I will still love them all-despite my incessant desire for it to cease
If only "just barely" were enough.
It feels like that's all they're willing to gift me.
Tolerated!?
I've given what I felt I was given to hold, multiplied by more.
Alone is so cold even with 10 winter coats on.
Fortuna Audaces Iuvat
Trying to remain strong-strong.
My whirling mind assaults the clock that won't stop
Possibly because I feel as I'm perceived. Intuitively.
Not just due to self-definition
Expected only to lie, a true story's falsity
Never believed causing my heart's soul to exude profusely.
It's how it's always been-their denial tastes like reprieve
They just tolerate me, my song on repeat?
"Why can't I feel like I belong?"
I want their truest heart minus their pity.
"Our Destiny is to succeed"! "Our fate was set up through not being exposed to"NEW Knowledge",so that we would fail! Our "HOPE" was and "Still is in"GOD"! Our success was,and is realized,"after "Jesus Christ"through "GOD"blessed us to "Overcome Fate"! Those who held us back in "Knowledge""PRETENDED" to want us to be successful,while they knew that by holding back "Knowledge"we would meet,"THE FATE" that was hidden in a "LIE",to"CAUSE" our "FAILURE"!Richard Restak has helped to Reformat "The Brain "Hard Drive"! Now our destiny can be realized,as "Fate"has "Failed"!The setup menu is now corrected! The "Start program" is "NOW" valid! The hard drive has been reformatted! The back-up neurogenetic neurons are generating at top speed,and all viruses are being eliminated:The Ram and the Rom of the computer is being controlled by "Human Brain"input into "The Supper Computer"! All viruses have been eliminated,and "The Ram,and Rom are at top speed with "Terabyte Memory" in "The Ram,and The Rom" to prevent any "Scam" to prevent "The Computer Hacker from scamming,as "DESTINY"is "The Hacker Breaker",and is "The Hacker Packer"! Poetry is "The Exacter",and GOD love "The Hacker"! God love "The Hacker and "The Quaker": They "LABOR"and we all need to watch our behavior! We are fully operational! Fate has "LOST" due to our lack of trust in "THE TROJAN HORSE" placed in our path "TO BE EATEN",and swallowed "WHOLE"! It was totally consumed to give us a "Full Belly of Knowledge" of which it was "Holding Inside"! Now "The Digital,Analog,video,audio,"Encryptification"(DAVAE) has also been reformatted to give us the truth,after "Encriptification" has been achieved, through laser recognition,and M.R.I Technology,to see changed,video,audio,digital,analog,"LIES"to bring "THE GENETIC CODE"at hand as now "The central processing unit gives us another full belly of knowledge of which it will describe "KNOWLEDGE" in "Analog,Digital,Holographic,Genetic Code,without the truth being "Hidden"in a "Video,audio,Holographic,"Genetic Code Lie"! Victory over "The Enemy"Achieved"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My anger boils deep down inside.
Yet I smile with sparkling eyes.
Hot blood flowing vie chamber to chamber…
Thumping heart beats vexed closer to danger…
Drinking in downpouring tears and cries.
Yet I smile with sparkling eyes.
Pissing out vengeance, bourbon and wine.
Bowels rumble loudly from the hate I dine.
Hands wipe away sweat of brood and brine.
Cap rim shadows inhuman thoughts of mind.
Gut pit energy peaking and on the rise.
Yet I still smile with sparkling eyes.
Guard my steps' quick smooth strides.
Make not my eyes deem you unwise.
Kitty Katy, bigger than holsteins
Killed a St. Bernard
Pretty Kitty scratched up my blue jeans
Left my legs all scarred.
My big kitty scares the bejabbers
Out of my sorry hide
Such loud thuds of her pitter-patters
The blood-prints of her stride.
What did she kill tonight?
Who did she rend and bite?
What did she eat?
What kind of meat?
When must I stand and fight?
Kitty wrestled an anaconda
Then ate just the head
I took off on my cherry Honda
Scared I'd next be dead.
Trere stands a man who's brave. Had many close shaves, wasn't at all afraid, not even of the grave.
He was a total knave, would always misbehave because he was downright depraved.
He would rant and he would rave like he belonged in a cave. He thought he had it made, not knowing to sin, he was a slave.
Til one day, he had a crave but someone else needed a fav, he couldn't understand why? From his heart he gave
Then he was hit with a shockwave, from that moment he was saved.
Now he's no longer depraved cause he was laved and now his way is paved.
No more to sin, a slave for he know The Lord forgave.
How long to sin will you be a Slave.
I remember a girl from the slums who's life was really humdrum.
To peer pressure she would succumb so her so called friends started calling her dumb, until she became numb.
They told her, she would always live in the slum, the only men that would date her were scum and to her, only a house full of babies would come.
Saying those nasty things to keep her under their thumds, only she didn't dance to the beat of their drums, for she knew she had complete control of her outcome.
Well, years passed and she did overcome, no longer under their thumbs nor do she live in the slums because she has a very hefty income, now they want to call her chum.
Beware of who you call Dumd, you have no idea of the outcome.