Old West Poems - Poems about Old West

You got your gun there on your hip. You got your tin star pinned there on your vest. You got your hat pulled way down low Yet your heart beats fast there in your chest. Because before you stands the man And your hand is slippery with sweat And the time for talk is gone And you know one chance is all...

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brilliance bona fide in redolent skies keen red submerging, clementine twilight sunflowers show-offs of the waning sun wedged within burnt orange escarpments swifts of volcanic horizon in desert crags old West crush corralled in surround-hugs ...

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Tim was the new judge in Deadwood Flat Not really qualified, just a rancher at that He first case was of the outlaw, Horace Slade Caught red handed in a cattle raid The jury took ten minutes to recommend the noose Better than letting this rattlesnake loose. Tim smoothed out his robe, asked Slade to speak Slade perked up, though his future...

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broke down in Tucson flat-busted, him punchin' cows and her slingin' hash...

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She was a gunslinger from way back. She kept this under her hat. A secret from everyone except the women she avenged. They called her Marigold, because of her flowers. When women who had been wronged learned of other women wronged, They came to her in the middle of the night. She was unknown as a gunslinger in this backwater...

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Celia Ann Blaylock, one of Alice’s doves Plied her talents when the Wild West was A Hooker, a hussy, streetwalker, floozy a strumpet. Loose woman, whatever, a doozy and then she met Wyatt, a man with a star while working in Tombstone at Alice’s bar she called him her husband, he called her his wife she thought she had made for herself...

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Weeds and grass grow in the cracks of sun-faded, crumbling pavement, a parking lot that once was full of stressed parents and cowboys nascent. A grand sign over the entry now is rotted two-thirds away, this old piece of my childhood truly has seen better days. It was an old-west town once, where we learned of the frontier, now the totem pole is fallen down, brings...

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The trollop of horses into our fathers minds, Stare into the eyes of the men forever blind. Infinitely seeing the hinges of time swinging, Forever intensely.. For never ending....

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In June of 1870, my Great Great Granddad was playing Poker in the Old West. Even though he was shot, the law neglected to place the murderer under arrest. My Great Great Granddad wasn't being honest, he was cheating. He was plugged through the heart and his heart stopped beating. When he was exposed as a cheater, the killer...

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Lord what I'd give to go back in time. Meet historical legends Wyatt Earp, Or Jessie James, let them leap off The written page, and live again. Rough riders, shooting the colt 45, Learning swiftness by the draw. Badges brethren, gather up, The madman’s posse, Gun powders equalizers, In there bloody hands. Wanted men, flee to, Parts unknown, Horse thieves, and Cattle rustlers, Trying...

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Monmouth, Illinois Wyatt Earp was born right there Can that be OK? ...

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