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Trapper Jones Poem
Victory seemed so close
An accomplishment to boast
We once dreamed against our woes
Now we raise a final toast
To all of our friends lost
Fighting for what we already won
However we paid the worst cost
Losing the war that was already done
We once left the kingdom
By tossing our supply of tea
Now we search for freedom
By removing liberty
We once headed west
We tried to expand
Now we find it a hopeless quest
For we have taken all the land
We have lied
And we have wailed
We have tried
And we have failed
If that is what we’re apart of
If that is what it takes
If Lady Liberty falls upon the dove
Then oblivion awaits
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
How do I say this?
I admit it’s very very hard
How to describe how I’m so happily marred
You make me feel trapped
Deep inside of me
Yet I don’t want to be set free
You make me feel anxious
Confused and nervous
Yet it all seems worth the fuss
Put simply, curse you
Why do you do this to me
Making me your one fee
But I feel it’s all worth it
For this pure stain
If it’s you I gain
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
Tree standing high and tall
Once was short and small
Branches reaching up to the sky
Swaying in the wind’s gentle sigh
Roots digging far and deep
Still with life they sweetly keep
Leaves here but once was gone
Which they crunch a gentle song
Songbird singing in the sun
Bringing peace and simple fun
Grass growing gentle green
Giving comfort with blades so keen
Flowers popping from down under
Beautiful colors bringing wonder
Cloud floating high up above
Carrying nature’s growth and love
Here sits the mother oh so fair
Why is it that this is now so rare
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
The storm comes at midnight
It will be quite a sight if I’m right
Preceding it barely a sight will make many angry and scared
The sight could be anything
…
Ha! Yes, even to those prepared
… You seem confused, let me explain
Lightning will flash in the sky
Which likely will be the revealing of a terrible lie
But truly it will all start with a single voice
Then everyone will have a choice
With the crack of thunder
Every person will choose which side to try to drive asunder
…
Hmm?
…
Now you see I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot
I know being saved will not be bought
You see in an ironic way it is kind funny
What’s coming will be beyond money
…
Ah yes! I’m glad you asked
After the horrible thundering
Worse will come
The storm will hit
As broiling black clouds roll over
Rain will strike the faces already damp
As the angry clouds weep in furious pity
Ribbons of red will wave in every city
… Do you fear?
…
I’m dearly sorry
But here comes a worse part
See the beginning was merely an inevitable start
In comes more lightning and thunder
Each striking with sorry fury
No one away will scurry
…
Because they don’t want to
…
(Sad sigh) Yes… yes… we are all just sorry little fools
…
Ask me more than just “Why?” Elaborate
…
Ah, yes
See the lightning is the light to see
But the thunder is the response
Funnily enough the reveal is destruction’s key
The light does nothing but begins what will come
…
Yes this is the storm
You might wonder how could this have so much damage
Surely the world isn’t in such an unprepared form?
Fools!
Not just you! Look around! Why is it you think we’re so perfectly steady?!?
Not only are we ready with no preparation
It’s been that way so long I can see the clouds already!
Dusk is already past!
Midnight is just an hour off!
…
What?
…
Is it too late?
… No
No it is not
So what are you going to do?
Or, more importantly, is it worth saving?
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
Ah! There it breaks
On the ground soiled
Abandoned
Foolish foot tearing that unmissed
Not knowing the destruction
Lost
Once it lived up above
Now fallen down
Gone
Before it had a purpose
A bringer of life
Fallen
There in silent death
Now crippled
Free
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
Annoying brother can't drop explaining,
Fun game helpfully inspiring jokes,
King lends more notice offering people questions,
Reality sets truth,
Understanding varies,
Waning xiz,
Yielding zilch.
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
Twas on a night of December
The 25th, I do remember
When a young man knelt inside his house
Alcoholic drink, down his throat spent
It was easy for me to know where his thoughts went
For here he told his secrets deep
Here he cried about wife and children lost
About his heart, a bitter chunk of frost
About his friends who now shun him
About his car which he did wreak
Which his insurance did not give a speck
And his house which was in shambles
Here he yelled, to God, to anyone could hear him
To anyone and anything he’s seen on film
To everyone who has existed, even those dead
But most of all he cried to me
I, Death, he did not want to flee
But he was not on my list
Now this you must understand
I would not have stopped here without some demand
For I was not due at his door
Some people to death do crawl
Especially after some big fall
But he merely needed one small push
So I knelt by his form
And soothed his raging storm
With a hug given, both real and felt
Here I had awakened the fire bright
I returned in him his desperate fight
And melted his icy heart
His heart, though still sore
Prompted his thanks to implore
To those forces to him unknown
While his soul I will one day keep
Right then only two words did I reap
The two words “forgive me”
And the “please” didn’t hurt
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
Once as outlook seemed demeaning
I pondered life’s varied meaning
Only one thing I wished to be gleaning
The simple answer of why
I was near full to bursting a seam
Then as if by heavenly beam
The answer was great to a dream
One that made me feel as if to fly
See, as I wandered the day
There on the road lay
Some sort of fey
Whose life came to a stop
My mind seemed to tarry
And though understanding may vary
I think it’s kinda scary
That even a fey can flop
This answer a divine source must have sent
That from above must have lent
A sight of a precious life callously rent
An oh so powerful truth
Now some might consider this a creation of the mind
For me this is how I the excellent answer find
In truth the answer isn’t always oddly signed
The truth is actually oh so common
The fact is that great and small
The most precious is lost to the call
None are immune from passing that wall
Why worry about death even when life is freshest?
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
After the end of all the loudest times
A poet breathed in yet another breath
Finally prepared to present his rhymes
About love and hate, even life and death
Prepared to give stories with falls and climbs
To tell the tale of Mark, Calvin, and Seth
Many more indeed was planned to be told
Every story worth more indeed than gold
He went out giving stories from his lips
He told and put people in raptured spell
His normal words seemed to do tricks and flips
He gave stories from his deep inner well
He proclaimed heroics and he bowed dips
He did that until his endless joy fell
His great morale and hope not even spared
For behold not even one person cared
He begged and begged to those listeners dull
Each of those precious tales he tried to give
He tried, tried, to make those people’s lives full
They may have survived but refused to live
So the bard was forced to not save their souls
Each soul silent as under sedative
So, sorry to leave the hopeless, he left
Left unable to share those works so deft
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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Trapper Jones Poem
I believe this space must be appreciated
Blank, white, plain to see
Why are we so quick to cover up
That which is boundlessly free
Look at this space between the frame
Question, wonder, and consider
Here is a blank field, free for the taking
With potential untapped, as it were
But perhaps something sad should be noted
This canvas gets only one experience
Endless possibilities, limited to one
Only one potential can be in existence
But if we refuse and never color in the white
Then the canvas can continue to dream
But never live any true reality
Purity is a dilemma it does seem
Do we remove its potential and give it a path
Or do we keep the possibilities open and allow it to imagine
How do we choose such a powerful choice
Both options seem like a terrible sin
So make your choice (I steadfastly refuse)
This space is like a child who does need grow
So consider your own past and wonder which is worth it
Because perhaps to choose we should be a little more slow
Copyright © Trapper Jones | Year Posted 2025
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