Best Winchester 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.
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*
With a fresh cup of coffee, I stepped outside to have a peek.
It was another peaceful morning, in the valley around Soup Creek.
I caught the glint of a Winchester, a model ninety-four.
It was across the lap of Jenna, just outside the saloon door.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jan sneaking to the loo.
I could hear her spurs were jingling as she went to take a poo.
In the saloon I heard some laughter, it was Milt just having fun.
At a table dealing stud, a gamblers game is never done.
At the other end of the street, there stood Tania with watchful eyes.
With a pistol on each hip, she was ready for any surprise.
Down by the livery stable was a Texas ranger by the name of Dave.
He was looking for our mayor, who he thought was digging a grave.
There was a rumor of riders coming, and the Creek might be in a bind.
He searched both high and low, but sir Tom he could not find.
Ten miles south of town, with graves dug all around.
Tom had stopped these riders and saved our hallowed ground.
Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
8/21/22
In the saloon gambler Milton, rose from his leather chair to speak
And said we need to make changes for the good of Soup Creek
He read all the meaningful proposals to the townsfolk out loud
And those meaningful proposals were well received by the crowd.
A stranger sat in the corner looked like he'd just got outta bed
Stood up and disagreed with everything Milton had said
He'd totally misunderstood Milton's honourable intention
The situation became tense and you could feel the tension.
There was an icy deadly silence then over by the far corner
Stood saloon girl Jenna looking mean, and cradling a Winchester
There was a mad stampede, as folks tried to get out the door
The stranger carried on ranting and at gambler Milton he swore.
Someone had alerted Sheriff Koplin and he was soon on his way
Then entered the saloon approaching the stranger, and had this to say
"Soup Creek is a very peaceful town and we aim to keep it that way
And if you don't like how we run things then you'd best be on your way"
Then from the back door of the saloon, entered four other deputies
Dave the Texas ranger, saloon girl Tania and the blacksmith called Rees
Undertaker Tom needed business, he was hoping the stranger they'd kill
And then headed off with a pick and shovel, to his office at Boot Hill.
The stranger was outnumbered and knew he wouldn't win
And handed the Sheriff his gun who said "I'm taking you in"
The Sheriff at gunpoint walked the stranger over to the jail
And told him" I'm locking you up and don't think about bail"
Meanwhile Tom up at Boot Hill was sweating digging a grave
Then heard someone hollering it was the Texas ranger Dave
Tom looked up and Dave told him "you won't be needed today
But Sheriff Koplin is generous and you'll still get your days pay"
"Gambler Milton is in the saloon later and he's holding a big party"
Tom threw his shovel in the grave and said "sounds good to me "
They both mounted their horses and then headed back to town
And they arrived back in Soup Creek as the sun was going down.
Written 16th August 2022
Till this day, I think of you.
Endearing thoughts my heart once knew.
Caught by surprise, you said, " Good Bye."
Leaving me here, to wonder why.
The heartfelt letters, I sent each night.
Were desperate words, to make things right.
Your love you said, had somehow died.
To hear these words, so have I.
"I wave Bye Bye"
Michael Tor
Inspired by Jesse Winchester's song I Wave Bye Bye, so heartfelt and
beautiful to listen to. Touching your inner emotions for a lost love...
Please go to Youtube and play Jesse Winchester song, I Wave Bye Bye.
Also on YouTube Bob Dylan's song To Make You Feel My Love sung by Garth Brooks. These two songs in my humble opinion are the best two songs ever
written and sung. PS Adele has recently sung To Make You Feel My Love...
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
Dear Poets,
I know for certain that I can never thank all of you enough for the supportive comments and messages you've written over the last 16 days. Each one represented a 'Get Out of Jail" card, letting me know your thoughts were with me.
With admiration and affection, please know that I respect each of you who took the time to write poems and/or inquire about me with kind sentiments. I could not read them in my own soup mail, but I did learn about your encouraging words through the kindness of friends that you contacted. I will do my best to catch up on reading and replying to all comments left for me but beg your patience in my doing so.
I was able to read all of your beautiful poems written to honor Milt. I can tell that he was respected and loved in the community. How could he not be, considering the fine qualities he had and instilled in many of us? He was my mentor, urging me to start entering contests again, after I'd quit for many months. He wanted me to get past him on that ladder, and I made it to the 2nd rung from the top before we lost him. I don't think I'll continue entering, so Constance, because of your humility and talent, I hope you remain on top. Caren sent soup mail about how sad it is to watch his picture moving spaces down on the home page until it will disappear. He will be gone from view, but not from our thoughts.
Tom, your news of Milton Creek would have made him very happy. You've honored him in such a special way by renaming our town. Thank you for being my voice on the site when I could not speak for myself.
With sincere thanks to all of you who I fondly call my poetic friends... it's long past time for me to write. Jenna's Saloon in Milton Creek is open for business. First round is on the house!
PS: Sheriff, it's time I get my Winchester back.
She's on the Verge
Joe cool
She talks to her hand
like seriously duh
the joke im not telling
we used to be witches writing poetry in coffee shops
smoking pot in serene gardens
and if it wasn't for Ginger my dog
that ran away to make love to Winchester
when she was in heat
we never would have met when we were eight
and still friends
but she tells me its because of me she's crazy
She wants me to remove pro creations that are stalking her
something tells me she's visited the funny farm too many times
I've been there
I've seen it
I know
But me and Joe
we are two of a kind
But I could be bluffing
maybe we're part of a royal flush
I'm space ace from mars
and she's a voodoo queen
to complete the circle of a long lost God in Girlfriend
Only the watchtowers know what that truly means
How did i get soo lucky her mother asked
but I'm not lucky at all
count your blessings and learn to read between the lines
because this mystic in your life
from your tree of fruits and loins did she fall
I'm a gullible god
and so are you
the tower of Babel has fallen
and she doesn't know what to do
so when she speaks the tongue of spirituality or which
and all you hear is psycho babble
it doesn't sound like
sneesh cheep bleep flap jip hap frew
she makes sense to me with words shes obsessing
i just wish you would take it on yourselves to read up on it
to understand her to communicate
instead of sending her to the hospital
Those pills make her
talk to her hand
and those lies are mostly true
fact is stranger than fiction
and together your family can pull through
even those doctors
are a little bit mad at that tea party
and shes never thrown me away after what I've been through
i love her to pieces
so should you
shes always been there for me
and when we lose touch she searches high and low for me
when you lose touch
there are more than one thing u can do
shes had exorcisms
and a low self esteem
date rape by succesfull well respected men
and everyone said it was blasphemy
it's not easy but it could be worse
believe you me
she's beautiful on the inside
and soo many soo called sane people
are beautiful outside
but uglier than sin if you ask me
Ancient and modern is this heartbeat
of a kingdom of four territories;
becoming the first biter to the endocarp of industrialization;
the first host to a global carnival of sports;
running the eldest of all notable department stores
and oldest without aging is one of its publishing houses.
A historic accumulator of colonies
with a spoken identity well pumped into different parts of the world
which has married diplomacy, economy and finance
to give global relevance to anyone who acquires it.
Even with this huge dominance,
Its initial lingua franca was
an adoption from its southern neighbor.
From Winchester to London, the route of its history is endless
Wwth the Lincoln cathedral the first overtaker
of the great pyramid of Gaza in an increasing participating race
and the first caster of the globe’s lifeless identity in Aluminium.
It’s a relentless consumer of Tea
having agents of law enforcement surprisingly not needing weapons
only but in situations of an adrenaline rush.
This defined region also has shoulders high above all others
in space and capacity showcased by Hay-on-Wye,
in dimensions and height, exhibited by Nature’s craft in Avebury,
in the size of a residence of royalty decorated in Windsor,
in numerical value of products traded in Harry ramsden
and a proud member of the starters’ club
in the creation of transportation mediums through rails.
The home of technology’s birth
and the courtyard where science is entertained
which is both less and greater than Thomas Harriot;
smiling when Christopher Merret and the Champagne
both got registered in history’s dairy.
The contribution of William Dockwra through stamps;
the excellence of Charles parsons shown in the stream turbine;
and the magic of Bletchley park
exhibited through the wonders of the colossus
are a fascinating fraction of a wing of its colourful feathers.
If these praises should spread online
The entire world of the internet has among others, Tim Berners to thank.
The old man lived out by the desert, selling postcards and gasoline,
He sold road-maps and Navajo silver, and True West magazine.
And under his Gabby Hays beard beat the heart of a dashing young man;
With arthritic fingers he cleaned off my windshield…he once was a Dapper Dan.
He said “Take care on the desert, carry plenty water to spare—
And look out for mirages that float like a dream—there’s all kinds of dangers out there.
“And you better watch out for that sweet senorita, the travelers all agree…
They call her the Queen of the Mojave Desert…but she once belonged to me,
Yes, she once belonged to me…”
I thought the old man was demented, from too many years in the sun;
But there in his gas station office I noticed a Winchester gun…
And I saw a faded brown photo—a Mexican beauty was she…
Right next to a newspaper clipping…about a murder in 1953…
Then later that night on the desert, my car overheated and died—
And I saw the Queen of the Mojave Desert…with a bullet hole gaping wide!
So I hoofed it on back to the station, ‘left my automobile behind…
And that grizzled gas station attendant, he told me one final time—
“You’d better look out for that sweet senorita, the travelers all agree,
They call her the Queen of the Mojave Desert…but she once belonged to me,
She was unfaithful to me…back in 1953…she was unfaithful to me...”
< Once came along an man named John Wayne
Winchester by his side causes more pain
Dusty trails ballroom brawls
Battlefield's muddy crawls
The duke of western inflicting gains
Jesse Winchester was a not so known famous Singer and songwriter who wrote many hits. His songs were recorded by Don Henley, Jimmy Buffet, The Everly brothers, and other famous singers. One of his famous songs that did not get the recognition it deserved was Sham A Ling Dong Ding. Elvis Costello did a stage concert on Youtube and Jesse Winchester sang this song. People were left in tears. Well soon a quartet did the song and its harmonies brings you to a heartfelt place as the songs words play. First go to YouTube and listened to Jesse Winchester song Sham A Ling Dong Ding performed on stage with Elvis Costello. After hearing and taking in the meaning and harmony of the song then go to YouTube and type in Sham A Ling Dong Ding Doubledouble qurartet and listen to their rendition of this song in Acapella. Truly amazing... Jesse Winchester's music will live on.
Also here are a few hits from Jesse. I wave bye bye, Little glass of wine, Tennessee Waltz, and many others.
Inspired by Jack Ellison Poem Acapella Groups.
Michael Tor
On The Range
You are an old cowboy now.
Your bronco riding and rodeo days are over.
You now mostly drive a pick up truck or ATV instead of a riding a horse.
You drink you whiskey straight, and your cowboy style coffee black.
You don't smoke any more, but when you did you rolled your own cigarettes and lit them with wooden matches.
You got your tobacco from a white pouch with a yellow pull string that you kept in your shirt pocket.
You wear blue Levi's and a leather belt with a silver buckle, and white straw Stetson hat with
a woven white, black and turquoise hat band.
You wear cowboy boots with riding heels and a shirt with pearl snap buttons.
You keep a blue bandana in your rear pocket to wipe off sweat and act as a face mask in dust storms.
You have worn chaps, fixed a barbed wire fence, and know about droughts. blizzards and prairie fires.
You still ride a horse, can cut a calf out of a herd, and like your father before you own a Colt six shoot revolver and
a 30-30 Winchester lever action rifle.
You have heard stories of massive Texas Longhorn cattle drives up the Texas-Montana trail in the 1800 hundreds,
and when you do, you wish you were born a hundred and fifty years earlier.
Like you ancestors before you, you make your living raising cattle and enjoy watching the sun come up.
Long ago you learned to appreciate the blue sky and openness of the high plains with its
yellow prairie flowers, purple sage brush and tumble weeds.
You have heard the howl of a prowling coyote, and the harsh caw of a magpie.
You have seen wild prong horned antelope, prairie dogs, cotton wood trees and,
beautiful night skies filled with a million stars.
Pretty funny name for a girl—her name traveled ‘round the world,
“little Miss Sure=Shot” they called her everywhere.
She sure shootin’ earned her fame—“Annie Oakley” was her other name—
She blasted those little glass balls right out of the air…
And a Winchester rifle became that girl’s best friend!
Little Miss Sure-Shot, you shot through our hearts back then;
And the likes of your marksmanship won’t be seen again.
Little Miss Sure-Shot you shot through our hearts back then…
In your cowgirl costume you rode through our Western dream.
Her Daddy died when she was ten—she picked up a rifle and then
She filled up the table with rabbits and quail to eat.
At fifteen she met her man—good lookin’ with a gun in his hand;
He tried to outshoot her but that hero, he got beat.
So he married little Annie—they hit the bull’s eve with their love!
She done pretty good for a girl Her boss he took her ‘round the world—
Buffalo Bill on that Wild West show-biz trail.
From Memphis to Cheyenne—she shook Queen Victoria’s hand,
Little Miss sure-Shot, her aim it never failed….
And she shot a cigarette out of Kaiser Wilhelm’s mouth!
His years spanned 1908-1997
reaching the grand age of 89
played many a character in his life
giving each one his special shine
My memories of Jimmy Stewart
goes back many a year for me
'Dear Brigitte' was the first I saw
a lovely film seeing the lovelier BB
Jimmy covered many different parts
of many types he did play
he was so good in westerns
'Winchester 73 and 'Shenandoah' made my day
He loved music also too
played the accordion as well as sing
showed this talent on the screen
'Glenn Miller story' was the real thing
The movie 'What a Wonderful Life'
George Bailey was his most famous role
this was his favourite movie
in it our hearts he stole
'Rear Window' alongside Grace Kelly
was a favourite also for many a fan
but there were so many to highlight
in a life of a ordinary man
James Stewart had a voice like no other
with such a recognisable drawl
it made his appeal so much greater
many great memories we're left to recall