Long Winchester Poems
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Yeah, just grab an old rusty shovel, a case of Bud Light and hop in the back of my red
pickup truck, because us country boys are heading down to Sweetwater Creek to hunt for
some rare species of dictionary. Boy, don't you worry about nothing. We got plenty of
ammo. Uncle Willie, you know them dictionaries got some powerful stuff.
Yeah, they got all kinds of words that I cain't spell or spit out my mouth. Some folks
say, you can use them fancy-polished words printed in a dictionary. You boys know better.
We can't read, write or arithmetic! Boys, we need to shake a stick, saddle up and go
rustle up some wild dictionaries. To capture a wild dictionary, you need to wear
specialized Desert Storm camouflaged gear, and be very quiet!
Boys, its time for the hunting dictionary expedition!
Now, big Willie, listen to me good, when we find this critter, I am not settling for a
handshake, because I need to bust a few caps in those hind parts with my double-pump
shotgun. Boy, be quiet. Do you hear something rattling behind them bushes? Hey, look down
yonder! Oh, Nellie, I got a big surprise for that old slick Willy dictionary.
Well, I am a Southern Boy, with a background in cannon artillery and fire weaponry. I will
deliver the final blow and knockout punch with my deluxe K-Mart special, double barrel
Winchester rifle, equipped with a high-powered scope, aiming right-between-the-eyes of
the victim.
Big Willie, You know stuff is going to fly in every direction. Now, its time to grab that
slippery dictionary right by the tail, fling it straight up in the air and shake the
cobwebs loose! Just in case, we might have to tap it with a few more rounds of buckshot
from my shotgun named big Shirley. You know, just so I can let it marinade.
Man, I am so cool, when I captured this black double-breasted Oxford dictionary, I skinned
it and cleaned it and turn it into a thesaurus.
Posted By: Gregory W Golden Dated 16 Oct 2006
Berms rise high to the left and right,
they’ve created a wide gully,
another berm squares off the back,
so no stray rounds ever get free.
There’s a metal spinner back there,
sits just short of two hundred yards,
I squeeze back and the bullet flies,
recoil jolts shoulder and arm.
I hear that small, metallic ping,
and thrill that I’ve gotten a hit,
may not be hard for a marine,
but I am quite happy with it.
I’m a civvie with iron sights
on my Winchester ’94,
I don’t get out here that often,
so or me, I call it a score.
Around me, on this low platform
others folks are working their guns,
two boy scouts shoot their.22s,
are plinking away, having fun.
An older woman sports a Glock,
a pistol, it’s for self-defense,
seems hesitant, she’s new to this,
but rightly fears criminal men.
A guy that I know hunts big moose
shoots slowly, sighting in his scope,
he gave me some ground meat last year,
will he give again? (I can hope!)
Blasts come from a much wider field,
shotguns destroying sporting clays,
after they’ll brag about their scores,
as some boast about their golf game.
Behind it all is a clubhouse,
there is a big elk-head in there,
a meeting room where they teach class
for new shooters still unaware.
They sometimes sell hot dogs inside,
or chili, when they have events,
mostly it is a hang-out place,
a space where men still can be men.
And of course the good ol’ 2nd
hangs above the big fireplace,
what are other rights without it?
Just notions evil will disgrace.
I cycle through my magazine,
pick up the brass for my range bag,
I’m reloading much more these days,
with inflation prices are mad…
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
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*
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.
John B. Jackson
1880-1911
Norma knew.
Norma, my erstwhile friend of a thousand hunts;
Only she knew the feel of my beading thumb,
As we sought out promising locales, and
Our clever quarry, from points near and far.
From the salty marshes by the Pio Pico adobe,
To the broad summit of Sycamore Canyon,
We left tracks only the night ‘coons could find.
So, did we learn anything in life, me and Norma?
I once spied a tern furrowing in a breach.
Norma was ready and loaded for the kill,
As I drew a long bead,
Held my breath, and pulled the trigger.
She, my Winchester 1895, lever-action,
Reduced that tern to feathers in an instant of smoke,
With white pillow plumage in complete upheaval,
Flying all about, and interspersed asunder!
That single memory was on my mind,
Before slipping eternally through the veil.
I remember closing my eyes, and there she was!
Appearing before me as a haunting ghost,
As she was, on the day she saw me kill the tern,
My disappointed mother, telling me I was cruel,
Cruel and heartless and mean,
For destroying “God’s creature.”
So, it was on that same day I put Norma away,
Lock, stock and barrel; stowed in silence,
Under the rafters of my humble bed;
I said a final goodbye and adios amiga,
To my once ballistic sweetheart,
And the love of my wild, youthful days.
Never again did I kill any living creature,
And found an inner wisdom I could never explain.
But, truth be known,
I wish I had Norma now.
Here in this dark cold grave.
I miss the tender touch of her cold trigger.
The gentle pull of her icy hammer.
And mostly, I miss the intoxicating power,
Of her fiery, exploding steel.
For together we traversed the canyons of Turnbull,
And the rolling vernal pastures of Workman Mill,
Tasting many a delicious quarry.
It’s true, my friends,
Norma knew.
Only she knew the feel of my beading thumb.
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.
Santa flew off to make his rounds,
and Dix made quick tracks for home,
to a one-room shack outside of town,
that his ma and sister called their own.
It wasn’t much too look at,
and his pay barely made ends meet.
He shuddered to think that without it
they’d both be out on the streets.
They exchanged countless hugs,
Ii really had been a long while.
His sister sang all she knew
of songs in a Christmas style.
It was a crowded Christmas Eve,
even tighter than the bunkhouse.
But he was home for the holiday,
and could deal with the resident mouse.
On Christmas morn, while ma cooked,
a knock rapped loudly on the door.
Ma asked,”Who could that be?”
then opened up to Boss McChord.
Dix was stunned, and jumped up,
scrambling ‘round, trying to dress.
Boss said,”Now hold on, take your time,
they’re ain’t no reason to fret!
“See I came on down to tell you
something that you need to hear.
Then this strange old man gave me this sack,
And said,’Bring Dix some Christmas cheer.’”
With that he lowered a red sack,
and spilled in out on the floor.
Gifts and gold and food spilled out,
at least fifty pounds or more!
“And the think I wanted to ask you Dix,
if you’ll forgive my holiday entrance,
is if you want to be my partner,
I’m expanding the McChord Ranch.
“I bought three thousand acres more,
And I’ll give you a ten percent share.
For all the work you’ve done to save the herds,
I think that it’s only fair.”
Dix was stunned, and could only nod,
McChord clasped him quietly warmly.
“You’ll have plenty of space to build a house,
big enough for the whole family.”
Ma she cried and thanked him,
and invited him to stay for lunch.
They sang and ate and opened presents,
which came in a mighty bunch.
In the sack, amongst the gifts
Dix found for himself a new red scarf.
Then below it something that
struck still his beating heart.
It was a brand, new Winchester,
well machined, oiled, and slick.
Hanging from it was a simple tag
that bore the name ‘Ol’ Nick.’
He saw writting inscribed on the stock,
and the words it said were this:
‘To My Good Friend Dix, now forever more
'The Cowboy Who Rode for Christmas.’'
I think Annie is going to shoot me.
She smiles and winks;
this is what she does best,
the little lady is deadly accurate
and pert with it.
She takes aim. "Right ear." She says.
Bang! Her Winchester
explodes my ear.
She laughs girlishly
tells me to wake up,
but the dream is way too interesting
and I stand there dripping blood
until she magically replaces it.
We go to a lake,
recline on a mattress of meadow daisies
while she relates her life story,
I already know it
and just want to make out.
Annie sings a lullaby
a crow taught her in the Ohio wilderness.
"Would you rather have a 1960's
Coup Deville Cadillac
or me?" She says suddenly.
My hesitant silence speaks volumes.
I ask: What color?
The feisty gal
kisses me with her Kathrin Hepburn lips,
then shoots my ear off again.
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