Long Lawman Poems
Long Lawman Poems. Below are the most popular long Lawman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lawman poems by poem length and keyword.
we sailed to the island, the island, the island
and would stay there evermore
with nothing to read but coconuts
and cocoa berries upon the tree
with no barber, Dennis or lawman
things could ghetto might strange
but we handle a leader (let's call him trumper)
trumper stood higher, and gave a screech
about a returnstile trip to sterilization
we stood up and jeered, Hooray, Hooray
but we be stripwrecked, cousin trumper, said we
what chance are we out in the farsighted lotion
where even the seagirls far outnumber us?
never minding that, he said we'll build a blue one
and us set about chirping down trees
at lust, the crate was finnish
two by two, we crumb aboard
and set snail for big indenture
to scoot for homely bound
but the beauty took on water
and we invaded to another shore
fierce sausages lined the bleachers
farmed with spearmints gone galore
we said our players, it looked like pretend
but the sausages made our breakfast friends!
brer trumper aligned a trick or treaty
the crew lived on believing children for eleventy years
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my old friend Dane,
who spends his days riding
across the Texas plains,
working for a big ranch,
he cuts, lassos, and herds,
brings them in at round-up,
brands them all in turn.
Works out in the sunshine,
rides hard for his pay,
heads on down to Randy’s
for a drink at close of day.
the bartender there always
shows his picture to cowgirls,
Dane’s a local legend,
on raging bulls he’s twirled.
Some women try to tame him,
one day one might succeed,
but right now he’s just happy
giving them what they need.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my buddy Bill,
he grew up loving westerns,
I guess he always will.
He loves the boots and hats,
even owns a bolo tie,
if it weren’t for those old movies
he’d have never learned to ride.
Takes trail-rides with his children
out in the country air,
keeps them from their cell-phones,
builds memories to spare.
Takes them to wild west shows,
where old time ballads ring,
doesn’t take much prodding
before the kids start to sing.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask our sheriff Max,
even when out on the job
he still wears a white hate.
Some say that his dark skin
makes the cowboy-look strange,
forgetting all those freed slaves
that once rode the range.
But Max doesn’t give a whit,
he’s an honest, weathered soul,
and every year he dresses up
for the town police festival.
He puts on all his cowboy duds,
plays the old west lawman,
the kids all run up to him
making finger-guns with hand,
But those buckaroos are quick,
he’s never outdrawn a one,
but it’s enough for the sheriff
to see the tykes having fun.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask ol’ Jimmy-Ray,
living down in sunny Georgia,
his feet in the red clay.
he’s never even rode a horse,
but the don't bothered him,
the cowboy code is his bible,
you can see it in his grin.
He’s quite the man of honor,
and will always treat your fair
in his hometown barbecue
if you ever do eat there.
He’s polite to the ladies,
looks each man in the eye,
on days off in his straw hat
his ATV he rides.
He stays loyal to one woman,
his great pride and his joy,
to her he’ll always tip his hat,
it’s good to be a cowboy.
Madeline Cole worked over the basin,
Washing clothes for her, and her man,
In the wilds of Kansas, 1878,
Where grass, between horizons, did span.
A pretty young woman, a brand new wife
She’d yet to fall heavy with child,
But she hoped and she prayed, whenever she could
That her dreams would wait only a short while.
When on the ridge three forms appeared,
Mounted proud, riding tall on horseback.
Madeline had seen them before this day,
The whole county had felt their attacks.
The Anderlin brother, that was their name,
The scourge of this part of the west,
Rustlers, thieves, killers, and back-shooters,
No lawman rode that they could not bet.
They approached the house, leers on their faces,
The oldest a brigand names Joe.
Madeline grabbed her and rifle and went out the door,
No further would she let the filth go.
Joe he just smiled, and shook his head
Saying ‘Darling, now you listen here!
I mean to have you, one way or the other,
Play nice and there’s no need to fear.’
‘But girl if you push me, I’ll tell your plain
I’ll put six bullets into that chest.
I think you’ll agree, it would be a sin
To put six bloody holes in those breasts.’
But Madeline stood and refused to budge,
Joe’s weathered face grew more ugly and cruel.
He said,’You can’t kill us all, not today.
Be smart here, don’t be a damned fool.’
‘You’ll like what we give you, I guarantee
You’ll be moaning when you are under
The body of a real man, not some green husband
Who likes to play at being a puncher...’
CONTINUES IN PART II.
In Sherwood forest where big oaks grow
There lives a band of outlaws
They roam the forest with their long bows
With arrows ready to draw
In an attempt to put the rebels in a jam
A lawman comes up with a plan
He is the sheriff of Nottingham
And he has kidnapped maid Marian
This news quickly spread to Robin Hood
The leader of this outlaw band
He fights for justice and for good
Her freedom he demands
But the sheriff refuses to let her go
Until Robin Hood gives up
But Robin replies with a resounding no
Cause he drinks from victory's cup
Then Robin's men surround the place
Where Maid Marian is being held
The sheriff and his lawmen brace
for battle, but they will soon be felled
Then arrows fly as lawmen fall
And maid Marian is soon rescued
And Robin Hood now stands tall
The hero from the forest of Sherwood
Evil Olive was cruel and vile to her employee Anna
She forced her to stack cats which had died
Anna was distraught and wanted to leave
Damm It I'm Mad to work here poor Anna cried
Madam, I’m going to walk out of the door
Anna’s face grew redder as she shed a tear
She said I won’t step on no pets any more
Anyone would think the devil lived here!
At noon a lawman arrived in his racecar
He asked Olive, was it a cat I saw?
Don’t nod ... you’ve been on our radar
As my gym is in the building next door!
You’ve been caught, wow, I’ve got the stats
I’ll refer this sad case on to my boss Bob
It’s a top spot to find the missing cats
I’m on the level Olive; you’re out of a job!
Fiction write - no cats were harmed in the creation of this poem...
Palindrome Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
5/11/18
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...
Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun, Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...
Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...
Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...
Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...
For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...
Written 1st July 2021
RIP UNLUCKY JIM
Verse 1
Stranger rode into town,
A stern look on his face,
Gave thought to his grim task,
Sworn duty on his mind and dismounted.
Verse 2
Examined his two six guns,
Moseyed to hotel bench,
At noon stood and with care,
Tied holster to his thigh and reflected.
Verse 3
In saloon spoke a name,
Outlaw threw down his drink,
Knew why stranger was there,
Each drew down, guns blazing, unabated.
Verse 4
Fight was o’er in a blink,
Outlaw dead on the floor,
Stranger left the saloon,
Went over to his horse and remounted.
Verse 5
Rode from town at full trot,
Same way that he came in,
Town knew why he had come,
His tin badge told the truth, deputized.
She wore a ribbon red as flame,
he carved her secret in his name.
They danced beneath the open skies,
with stars like lanterns in their eyes.
The campfire laughed, the horses swayed,
the fiddles sang while nightbirds prayed.
Their vows were stitched with whispered thread,
"Till death," they swore, "no tears to shed."
But Fortune's wheel turned rough and wild--
the lawman came to claim their child.
A fortune-teller saw too late--
the cards had sealed a crooked fate.
They rode like ghosts through iron rain,
the mountains swallowed up their pain.
Yet dawn betrayed their broken flight--
two shadows fell in dying light.
The caravan still hums their song,
a love too bright, a loss too strong.
And every fire that gypsies light,
still weeps for them across the night.
Some say when midnight paints the skies,
you'll hear their laughter where it lies--
two spirits twirling hand in hand,
forever free across the land.
Contest betwixt us friends had been common,
Who is who? Who, here, is a true lawman?
When two palms trees though compete to grow high,
They do not crush the common plants nearby...!
Don't, yet, serpents raise their hoods in anger?
Don't their pique sounds, like gongs, often, clangor?
Ladder and snake, a game we used to play,
We win, or, lose none ever nothing say...!
It's when we started our major business,
Within us arose, like froze ice, stiffness;
When he grew I fainted and vice versa,
Body ached; heart bound; veins stood like bursa...!
When I won he lost; when he won I lost;
In our functions, yet, both had been one host;
Like beet-root when I shoot he maintains mum,
Like onions, I too empty at his numb...!
20 November 2022
THE CRAP SHOOT #2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Born with beauty all over her face
Trim to fit leather and lace
Always attractive with her new looks
Catching her prey with her sexy sharp hooks
Green was the color she held in her purse
Men in suits would burden her curse
Whatever she wanted she got with her sass
And what helped her to get things was her shapely round ass
But all in due time her world came and crashed
Her house and her riches got mangled and mashed
Her ex came out swinging with the law in his hand
The lawman he was made sure she got canned
Thrown behind bars by the lies from his mouth
A Redneck Hill Billie raised in the south
That face of beauty turned fragile and frail
When she finally got out of that filthy slum jail
Battered and broken is now her new look
All from the badge of that Hill Billie crook