Long Rotgut Poems
Long Rotgut Poems. Below are the most popular long Rotgut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rotgut poems by poem length and keyword.
They say he had three Mothers
The Earth, the Wind, and Water
And His father was the Sun
And the Moon was his daughter
He wore a gun in his belt
With clothing made from hide
As He walked, He made no sound
And never broke his stride
Folks say he was part Cherokee
Others say, part Crow
There wasn't any clarity
There was no way to know
He wore a shiny locket
On the inside of his shirt
That he took out of the pocket
Of a dead Comanche’s' skirt
The feather in his hat
Made the white folk all take notice
And on his belt a sack
With an ancient Aztec Poultice
The myth, was he knew magic
Taught by spirits raised by Shamans
And because His birth was tragic
He was thought to be a Demon
As he passed through our town
The People, looked away
Afraid of being cursed
They where glad he didn't stay
The sun sank in the East
As the wind blew from the West
And he walked in a straight line
Like a man bent on a quest
He climbed up to the foothills
Where the Injuns made their graves
There he raised them from the dead
As he made them all his slaves
No one knew his purpose
For the dead upon that mound
Not at least, until that day
He came back to this town
I've dragged this here bag of gold
it seems a thousand miles,
no rain, no water, no food to eat,
just stagnant pools that look like bile
and a few odd berries . . .
Saw a sign a few miles back--
"Rotgut - town five miles due east."
I'm hopin' it's better 'n it sounds
cause it don't sound good fer man nor beast.
prob'ly just a cemetery . . .
Well, I'm here and I was right
a one horse town with one saloon;
don't look like much but has to do--
inside thar's just a crowd of goons.
No gals to make merry . . .
Hope no one notices my load,
I daren't leave it on my horse;
sure looks like thar a thievin' bunch,
killers who don't know remorse.
Prob'ly don't even bury . . .
I'll get some hot food, supplies,
I'm fearful tired, parched and dry --
I'll just drink what I can handle;
kiss this God forsaken place good-bye.
Sleep out on the pra'rie . . .
Too late! They spied my bag of gold,
my prospectin' tools I carried.
Thar onto me, I'll have to fight
or I'm the one that won't be buried--
just hung out - bird dietary . . .
Well, it's done . . . I finished it,
the town of Rotgut--all are dead.
I fought like a demon for an hour
and bashed in all thar grimy heads.
Will build a cemetery . . .
Now I'm mayor, priest, and sheriff
town's tee total male pop'lation;
Oh, fair metropolis of Rotgut
the best destination in the nation.
Think I'll tarry . . .
Copyright, July 8, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Once a dry dusty town called Rotgut,
Saw tornadoes and torrential rain,
As she walked down the lane hurriedly but,
Water smashed her out of the brain,
She then entered a famous city saloon,
Absolutely wet and her clothes dripping,
All elegant sitting, born with a silver spoon,
Many eyes gazed, the looks were stripping,
Shrinking herself as she sat on one table,
And ordered one quarter of best wine,
Toughest man was telling an old fable,
Tale of passionate he and she swine,
Curly blonde hair covering her teary eyes,
Recalls the night, how quickly the time flies!
Written on 26/7/14
Contest- A town called Rotgut
Sponsor- Jerry T Curtis
The evening turned to morning
As I awoke from my slumber
The fire in the hearth
Now, just a glowing ember
I didn't stop for coffee
As I headed for the door
And there, I stared in disbelief
As the sky began to pour
In the street, one by one
The town folk grouped together
And there in the center
Stood the man with hat and feather
He said, this is the rain
That will wash away their sins
And as the poultice melts
Change the color of their skins
I hardly could believe it
When I looked around to see
The town now full of Indians
I thought, How could this be
Then right before my eyes
I saw buildings sinking down
The rain was so intense
It made soft, the arid ground
Every trace of White mans world
Just disappeared from sight
As I stood there ankle deep
In this messy muddy plight
The rain turned into drizzle
And the people lost their trance
Some began to sing
While, others took to dance
To be continued..............
Red balloons with clowns attached
Lock your doors
Keep the windows latched
So many people
Knocking at the door
One, two, three, four,
Ten or twelve or maybe more
Disembodied voices
Screaming in my head
I found their bodies sleeping
Underneath my bed
Which I am now so far from
But still they haunt my head
There’s a man in the corner
There’s a child on the ceiling
I don’t know what’s over there
But still I hear it screaming
Howling echoes in my mind
Demons dance before my eyes
Seems I forgot my pills again
I search for them with hazy vision
Check the bottle once then twice
Then with horror I realize
Why it is that I’m so nervous
Why I appear so tense
The pills offset each other
So I’m not making sense
And then my head begins to spin
My vision darkens yet again
I fall to the floor
And the beasts dance no more
But still the voices loudly roar
Among the lot, before consciousness slips
“Leave him be. He's just drunk again.”
ROTGUT
The whiskey was bad
the burn and warmth of it
was, if not good, welcome.
Hard day, but aren’t they all,
Hard ground, hard work, hard head,
Hard luck, hard times.
The whiskey would fix that,
ease the edges of the hardness,
deaden, if not soften them.
This town, like so many others,
a refuge, turned tormentor,
daring me to leave, begging me to stay.
Same stool, same drink, same day,
day after day, whiskey’s treadmill
never backward, never forward, always here.
Within the confines of a curse
to seek its dark oblivion
knowing the day, this day, would come again.
Amid the muffled noise of others,
nameless, faceless, blurry beings
going through the motions of a life,
devoid of any feeling, save despair.
Old pictures propped against the bottle
dusty dreams washed down with Rotgut whiskey.
The eyes that looked at him were dead,
reflections of the mirrors judgment,
unable to turn and walk away.
He would stay in Rotgut, or find another.
Same stool, same drink, same day,
bad whiskey, welcome warmth.
John G. Lawless
7/8/2014
for Jerry T. Curtis contest A Town Called Rotgut
It was around dusk when I rode into town
Then to the saloon I made my strut
I reckoned I'd gulp some whiskey down
Before leaving this dusty town called RotGut
I entered the saloon and took a seat
Ad then started downing the amber liquid treat
It was sometime later that night
When a youngster challenged me to a gunfight
I finished my drink and then replied
Let's settle this outside
So we stepped outside to exchange lead
But when the dust had settled, the youngster lay dead
It was around dawn when I rode out of town
Perhaps in the next town I'd make the cut
But from a gunfight I would never back down
As one man bit the dust in old RotGut
The hinges of the swing doors creak as Zack Waverley enters the Rotgut bar
He stands in the doorway his huge frame blocking out the daylight
‘Hey Zack’ I cry ‘Is that a pistol in your pocket are you just pleased to see me’
His face lights up with a grin, ‘Hey sugar, have you got room for me’
I wink at him and smile at his subtle innuendo
Zack was once one of my best customers
Not seen him for years though he left as soon as I fell pregnant
Sparks fly off his silver spurs as he swaggers over to the bar
Double whiskey on the rocks, he downs it in one swig then has another double
Are you read for some action I ask him, are you firing on both barrels?
Zack nods his head and we head for the door to go to the old motel
Suddenly there is a loud BANG and a pistol is fired
Zack falls to the floor as dead as a dodo
A single bullet wound to his chest
My son stands there with a smirk on his face
The smoking pistol in his hands
‘Sorry it had to end this way dad’ he says stepping over the lifeless body
I fall to my knees and cry
Oh why oh why did I lie
'Zack wasn’t yer Pa' I cried
I just gave his name I should never have lied
He was just a man I could never resist
Guess I better tick his name off my list
Jan Allison
30th July 2014
Written for A Town Called Rotgut Contest Sponsored by Jerry T Curtis
I asked Him, what he wanted
To save the people of this town
But he only shook his head
As he looked back at the mound
"I seek no Gold or Silver
No payment from your hand
I know it's hard for White men
For this to understand"
Then he looked into the sky
As he said a little prayer
Did some tribal dance
And threw powder in the air
I didn't have a choice
But, to put my trust in him
So I begged His god for mercy
And to wash away our sins
He didn't waste much time
As to treating of the sick
He went from house to house
With the pouch, full of his mix
He applied it to their foreheads
As he took it from his tote
And I have to admit it
It smelled like rancid goat
I watched him as he worked
Well into the night
They started looking better
I believed they'd be all right
But I myself exhausted
Found a bed unoccupied
Slid between the sheets
Then quickly closed my eyes
To be continued..............
Sweat sticky between
eyebrows, deuces
wild
Like his eyes, those
lonesome dove eyes
Prairie eyes, ice
cool despite the
rising heat
Choking heat,
boiling on a frying
pan
Round and round
those tables, red
and black
Elbows and anger,
shiny greasy metal,
Gin bellows and city
screams
Down home blood
lust, home cooked
greed
Stuffing that money
into his collar
With two black eyes
and a smile
She said
he's a rambler,
pulling the curtain
back
Like a storm
blowing this way and
that
Mary watched
him walk
away,
Her heart
tucked into the
pocket of his white
shirt
That gleam
in his eye, mama
says,
That like a
snake,
sidewinder,
Bound snatch
a man's wallet and
warm a girl's
blood
Though, she
smiled, old and sad,
He gotta debt to
pay
So you stay
clear of the
streets, stay
clear
Of that
trick fool
Copper
shined up like
gold
*
Mr. ramble
man,
Shot down
today,
They buried
him with a blood
bouquet
*
The cold
wind blew out of
Rotgut
town,
But won't
be long, they
say,
before
another diamond
eyed, lonely
soul
Will come
put his chips on the
table