Wagon John was not just another old cowpoke.
In conversation I heeded most words he spoke.
a wagon his home,
wherever he’d roam.
He died alone on the trail without any kinfolk.
Wisdom he passed on to school children in his travels.
Active man with no pretenses.
Good Man that was a recovering alcoholic
Oasis of knowledge.
Nature had captivated his lifestyle.
Joining him in his travels were Sugar Foot his saddle horse.
Offbeat from the mainstream lifestyle.
His home, two covered wagons pulled by six mules.
Negativity had no part of his life.
Where there's a will
there's a funeral
death is a fact of life
a grave undertaking
for a mortician
and one day some day
you and I
will wake up dead
hopefully the lifetime led
was of our own making
too late for looking back
no regrets and yet
it's appalling
when we wind up
in a winding sheet
waiting on that beir
aside from six feet under
where do we go
from here?
Some say, 'Heaven,'
some say, 'Hell,' oh well,
by then our goose is cooked, wagon fixed,
and we'll never know 'til it's too late
as they've punched our ticket,
cleaned our clock and wiped our slate.
I made it to vacation then it was all downhill after that
Let the horse go first
Before the cart to propel
That there'll be no thirst.
Sarcophagus lay in the ditch
the wagon had lost its hitch
dearest mummy was gone
breath renewed by Amon
she befell the wanderer’s itch
blue car
turns into street
he's dead
A heavy load, on your back,
Let it go, just relax,
It's not your weight,
It's all the others,
Pushing their traits,
Onto their lovers,
It's not just you that has this weight,
Millions of others bare it every day,
People throw their flaws and tell you 'have em!'
But just let go, it's a detachable wagon.
I don't want to get drunk anymore.
These hangovers I truly deplore.
Yet as the sun goes down
you know where I'm bound:
goin' drinkin' just like before.
I don't want to get drunk anymore.
My behavior is hard to ignore.
Friends say it ain't fittin'
so tonight I'm quittin'
and walkin' out this barroom door.
I don't want to get drunk anymore.
Yet I'm back here just like before
and I'm writin' this poem
for my lover at home
and hopin' she don't lock the door.
You know I'll get drunk evermore
and be the lush most abhor.
There's no use resistin'
'cause you know that I'm fixin'
to go drinkin' just like before.
I started the engine of my wagon
And it began spitting the Fires of Dragon:
Hinckley’s alarming shots at Reagan!
But I kept firing Engine and Wagon,
And didn’t stop mouthing ‘Doggone!’
But they were still Hinckley’s insane bullets for Reagan
A finally vomited me at the Temple of Dagon,
For a Philistine bow by The New Pagan,
Wherefore God sent me a stopping Shagan,
With jealous instructions for me in Legon;
Into Smithereens blowing my wagon,
As idolatrous as Misguided Aaron
With two children inside,
we giggle along the
way to the garden's heart.
Weather-worn, but tough, our
wagon can still bear the
weight of gold potatoes,
watermelon, and love.
6-13-2021
W Plieades
I had a red
wagon
when I was a
kid
it was scratched &
dented
rusting from the
rain
I took it with me
always
because I was a
collector
a collector of
things
things like rocks
pretty
a bird nest
fallen
and wildflower
dandelions
I filled my wagon
full
and brought home
things
__________________________
October 29, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/my red wagon
Copyright Protected, ID-10-1298-803-29
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(35)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 10/30/2020
Lately, I'm trying to diet
There's a lot of pain in fitness
All the tasty foods are taboo
Tell me, can I get a witness?
Standing on scales Saturday
Was my motivation to try
But without my chocolate sundae
I don't know but that I might die!
All the famous diet "Guru's"
Cast shade on the foods that I love
There's no way you can convince me
Cheeseburgers are not from above!
Not pushed, I jumped off the wagon
Thinking, "I'm not really that fat!"
I decided to leave it be
I thought, "Yes I can live with that!"
Then shortly there after I hear,
Across the street in a wee voice
"Hey mommy, look at that fat man!"
So......back on the wagon's my choice!
Get off that ole red wagon;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Girl, git off that ole red wagon;
But down that bottle,
Don’t want just ice water;
And yet still don’t want no alcohol;
Get off that ole red wagon
Now why you wanna do that to me;
The times I wanna get next to you you flee;
You are one of the very few girls whom comes down with a flu;
Every single time I trying to git next to you;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Girl, git off that ole red wagon;
But down that bottle,
Don’t want just ice water;
And yet still don’t want no alcohol;
So girl get off that ole red wagon;
Why you wanna do that to me;
But down that bottle so you can be free;
9/7/76
Written words by James Edward Lee
Arranged music by Alton Adkins 1976©
Writing is like a runaway wagon...
I start with a destination in mind,
suddenly, thoughts topside take charge.
As my piece is posted, I withdraw the reins.
What I wrote is misinterpreted at will
by a reader who takes off on his own.
And the upshot is: mission blitzed -
my little-read wagon is side-swiped.
written: April 10, 2019
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