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Best Poems Written by John Stetson

Below are the all-time best John Stetson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | John Stetson Poem

Dark and Deep 'for RLF'

Tiptoe through the darkness round the lip of lexicon
Peer into the mouth of what awaits the hear and gone
Careful! One misstep can send you tumbling down 
Grab it by the throat, lest your message come unbound

Wrestling with the spirit, is it angel is it muse?
Or ghost upon the parapet? It's up to you to choose
Choices come in bunches, but wise ones not so much
And eloquence no guarantee to come through in the clutch

For beauty's eye is keen, it watches through the night
A single erring step, can dim the brightest light
A shade of blackness guaranteed to put the soul to sleep
The words alluring, fleeting, fading... lovely, dark and deep
Full of promises the words are lovely, dark and deep

Details | John Stetson Poem

Tres Estrellas del Rio

Way down on the border when the wind blows cross the river
The mission bell shimmers and shivers a tune

There's slim law and order save what you can carry
Since the Buffalo Soldiers rode away in platoon

What they left behind them still shines in the moonlight
Where the dinner bell sings with the school bell at noon

There three little flowers sprang forth from the bowers
When Tejas ébano found suelo and bloomed

It's a hard life for green things it's a mean life with short springs
But sometimes amarilla springs forth in full bloom

Catching each wand'ring eye of each lone passerby
Coming into full flower ‘neath the full moon in June

Refrain:
	Amarilla Maria, Eliza, and Ruth
	They've been makin' their own way since they left their youth
	Three pretty sisters carved out an existence 
	From the prickly pear growin' 'tween 'royo and truth

María kept peace with vecino vaqueros
While Eliza trained mustangs with a whisper and a rope

And Ruth though the youngest would ride with the sheriff
Delivering mail, patching up ol' cowpokes

In the heat of the summer some wild desperados
Rustling cattle leaving ranchos in ruin 

Banditos, mosquitos among mariposas
Las tres florece 'neath an old yellow moon

Bridge:
  They saddled and rode out next morning at dawn
  Returning 'fore nightfall with the steers that were gone

  And Maria's horse carried the best prize of all
  El Jefe was trussed up and left looking small

	Amarilla Maria, Eliza, and Ruth
	Makin' their own way runs deep in their roots
	Three pretty sisters carved out an existence 
	And never abandoned each other or truth
	No they never abandoned each other or truth

Now down on the border the tower still stands there
Alone 'gainst the bandits of crumble and ruin

One side is gone, but three are still standing
In silent defiance 'neath an old flower moon

But sometimes when the night wind blows strong down the valley
You can still hear the mission bell ringing in tune

Reminding the faithful when they stand together
Is when their true character comes into view

There in the shadow of the crumbling tower
Bloom three ev'ning primrose beneath the full moon
They stand silhouetted where thorns rule the landscape
Refusing to abandon the land or the truth
A lovely reminder there's beauty in truth
Like three pretty sisters together since youth

Repeat 1st refrain
	'Tween the prickly pear growin' from 'royo to truth
	By the prickly pear growin' from arroyo to truth

Details | John Stetson Poem

The Ferryman's Pole, Part 1

I swear by the ferryman’s pole, my soul, the tale I tell is true
And if you have a soul, I pray, the same won’t come to you, Boys
The same won’t come to you

In the West, I say, back in the day of the Talon River crossing
When the Claw came down it tore the ground upon which we’d been standing
I say where we’d been standing

In the rocks and rills of the Shorthorn Hills, the cattlemen they would gather
In the Fall of the year when the river runs clear and cider’s sweet and peaches turned to brandy 
The peaches turned to brandy

Well the Talon River sometimes claws its way through pleasant Springtime
But it mostly flows down sweet and slow and the trout jump in the moonlight
The trout jump in the moonlight

I saddled up with the boys to fetch the cows down from the mountain
To graze down here where there is no fear a freeze will stop the fountain
No freeze to stop the fountain

Where the gentian stands on the gentle sands as white as the driven snow
'Fore winter's blow fills all this land with the icy one we know
The icy one we know

It was Joe and Pete and Slide Whistle Ike and jolly Jew's harp Johnny
And the new fella Bill who didn’t say much and he kept to the rear of the party
Trailing our dear party

Since he joined the crew the Bar D few who threw lariats for their living
He kept to himself and he'd never say much like someone who was hiding
Like something he was hiding

And we never did know where the Boss found Bill when hands was hard to come by
Nor would Bill say where he'd spent his days when he was just a shaver
When just a little shaver

But we didn't think about it much in this business they come and they go
And the pals that stay are the ones you say are ones that you'd fall in with
The ones that you'd fall in with

The ones you'd stick with thick or thin and count on when you need 'em
On whom you count when troubles mount and someone lies a'bleedin'
Someone lies there bleedin'

________________________________________

Details | John Stetson Poem

Ferryman's Pole, Part 2

We crossed the streams where the fool's gold gleams as we joked and told our stories
And each man spoke of his love and home when work's all done this Fall
When the work's all done this Fall

We hadn’t made it halfway up with Bill still trailing badly
When Johnny said to Pete and Joe let’s stop here and eat dinner
We'd be home in time for supper

Slide Whistle Ike said a plan I like presents itself most handy
So I went back down to round up Bill my beans and biscuits waiting
My beans and biscuits waiting

I turned my mount back down the hill an eye peeled for Bill’s pony
When it caught my eye upslope in the bye near a shaking quakie standing
A shakey quakie standing

That’s where my knees like the trembling trees moved in the breeze a whisperin’
But it wasn’t the wind left the bone and skin above my boots a'shakin’
Surely, I was mistaken 

Young Bill had tied his horse to a sapling down where the trail was bending
And climbed up high framed in the sky behind him dark as midnight
What happened to the daylight?

A ghastly glow surrounds him so like embers from the Devil’s campfire
His eyes and face had greatly aged and he smiled like the rage of the Talon River
The raging Talon River 

For there stood Bill on that cursed hill his eyes ablaze like lightning
Astride a stream that'd turned to steam under where Mad Bill was standing
Right where that Bill was standing

It hissed and moaned and turned the stones I swear to molten metal
And swept more stones that broke like bones as they tumbled down the mountain
That wretched cursed mountain

He was on a ridge above the boys still laughin' with their dinner
They couldn't see for a line of trees hid their eyes from doom impending
All Hades was descending

I shouted up, "Joe grab the boys and ride to where I'm standing!"
But he couldn't hear me and my desperate plea was lost on that black mountain
That black and burning mountain

Then Ike first heard that sound not found this side of the river Styx
And he barely had time to shout the names of his saddle mates and home
"Home boys! Head for home!"

But there was no time to clear their mind and comprehend what's coming
For who could know what terrible blow upon them was descending
All Hades was descending

________________________________________

Details | John Stetson Poem

Ferryman's Pole, Part 3

Off to the side downslope my ride I had time to unburden 
I don't know why but somehow thought I might could use my lasso
Tied there upon my saddle

On a small steep bluff it was just enough to stay above the current
But it couldn't last I was thinkin' fast 'bout what might be my savin'?
How my hide to be savin'

As they tumbled past the boys I'd last left as my sweet companions
Were screamin' like the demon that unleashed this ghastly end
This fiery ghastly end

As I swung the horn down from my mount my eyes swept up past Bill
He was staring down from the Devil's crown to the witches brew below
The maelstrom down below

He was still astride that deadly tide that somehow he had conjured
And I could see him smilin' there his eyes still fire a'blazin'
His eyes like fire a'blazin'

And he laughed, I swear like a banshee there above the Hell below
A screamin' wail that would even pale a priest upon his altar
Mid prayer from the altar

Fire still shooting from his eyes, lightning in each hand
He was looking down upon the ground where now I made my stand
I thought it my last stand

The cauldron boiled like a Coven's glow 'cept now a torrent ragin'
And the last I saw of the Bar D crew was a wisp and smolderin' ember
A charred and smolderin' ember

The quakie grove on the bluff I strove around me started crumblin'
And I stumbled round on the crumblin' ground my mind a maverick runnin'
A branded maverick runnin'

My faithful mount fell from my sight his scream announcing his sad plight
It rose high above with the Devil's roar and tumbled down to the valley floor
It tumbled down to the valley floor

The white bark trees all lost their leaves as they twisted in confusion
They bent, some broke, but like the spokes of a penny farthing twisted
Together some had twisted

Details | John Stetson Poem

Ferryman's Pole, Part 4

The stump of one spar poked above the rest beside me slope descending
And I roped that spit in the hope that it would not have me on the fire turning
On that fire burning

I tied one end to my saddle horn with a stirrup on each side 
And I held my breath diggin' in my spurs prayin' this would be my ride 
That this would be my ride

My wooden bronco bucked and turned in this rodeo from Hell
As the torrent grew round and round we flew to the Talon down below
The Talon down below

In all of my riata days I never held on tighter
I knew that this was my last crew and I'd go down a fighter
I would go down a fighter

Then something came upside my head and last I saw stars blazin'
And when my sense at last I found I was floating down the Talon
The swiftly flowing Talon

Around me floated such a mess as I have never seen
But the mount I chose still above it rose and carried me to safety
It carried me down to safety

I prayed and swore on that rocky shore where the Talon left me lying
And when I looked back t'ward the peak where we had all been standing
Nothing was left standing

________________________________________

I miss those boys and the open skies but not that haunted mountain
I’ll not return with all I’ve learned and days I still am countin’
Each day I will be countin’

As a day I've earned by lessons learned and not taken for granted
So I won't go whether sand or snow to the Talon River Crossing
Ne'er the Talon I'll be crossing

The days I've left before my death not many I can count on
But with my last breath I'll curse his name that surely you can count on
That surely you can count on

With my death rattle I'll curse his name
That surely you can count on

Details | John Stetson Poem

Bird Brain 'The difference between freedom and free will'

Like chattering magpies we flock, we preen, we groom
We gather shiny bits and pieces to feather our nests
And then we tarnish them with neglect or abuse
Or lose them, distracted by the next one

We've already collected the prize sought by all
Not the God given one, that's free will
Which has been given freely to all
What we do with it is up to us

Details | John Stetson Poem

Vicksburg

The final resting place arrests the soul that's stirred to ponder
Unlikely calm, untimely psalm shall with these spirits wander
Now your tomb no more the gloom of morrow's peril pending
The will you brought, the peace you sought herein has found it's ending

	I cannot summon up the scale, the cry, the wail, of this sad tale 
	Where you in desperation drew that final fatal vision 
	Sunshine graces all that my eye falls on in this vale
	I search for hope that we won't follow on the sad division

That led us to the precipice where looking down on others
Would lead us to the place where we would choose to fight our brothers
Hope has many colors, complications, aspirations, and rebirth
But let us hope...   lest it should die...   along with our self-worth

Details | John Stetson Poem

The Songbird and the Viper

They lie in wait, a lie of state 
A statement therein lies

The journey long that bears the song
Aloft to culmination

The strike is swift, the rest, the lift
Arresting once safe passage

And so is made, this tempting trade
For food of thought is fleeting


She rests attesting to this moment
No siren song but lilting

And in an instant instantly
A melody is risen

The aire is born for life, forlorn
And carried on the current

Survive the journey for the learning
Live to see the morrow


And where these two should meet unsweet
A moment left to capture

For all must eat lest they succumb
Benumbed to rote or rapture

Details | John Stetson Poem

The Valentine Muse

If discipline be righteous let me stray but for a while
And beg the Fates indulgence on the morrow
For surely cruel as fate can be 
There's kindness in the breast for he that
Strays in ways gods envy and admire

If heaven smile the while you dally
Lost in that space none dared precede
It can't but wonder how creation
Dwelling under heaven's folly
Follows on the path you have created

Hearts together beating as two within one breast
Facing love with nothing in between
One casting from the mold the gods broke on request
The fate not resting til it wrest from Chronos
Moments precious lost in time now found

Lives entwined as flames no quenching thirst can hold
So bright the night can hold no purchase on the soul
Hearts aflight would light now holding fast against the darkness
Which would swallow and consume that light most richly blest
Whose purchase can outshine all heavens gold

Best Poems Written by John Stetson

Dark and Deep 'for RLF'

Tres Estrellas del Rio

The Ferryman's Pole, Part 1

Ferryman's Pole, Part 2

Ferryman's Pole, Part 3

Ferryman's Pole, Part 4

Bird Brain 'The difference between freedom and free will'

Vicksburg

The Songbird and the Viper

The Valentine Muse

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