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Susan Ashton Poem
Frank and Jesse James strapped their pistols to thier sides
the Youngers got to gether and saddled up tp ride.
Butch and all his gang made ready at the wall
Sundance made his final bet at the gambling hall.
Billy at the time was only seventeen
but he was faster with a gun than most had ever seen.
The Clatons were all fuming cause Wyatt made them all a clown
they were hell bent on revenge the Erps were going down.
Doc was sitting on the couch coughing up his lungs
he sat there with a rag in hand cleaning up his gun.
A stranger on a pale horse had seen them one and all
he told them they'd meet up again when he came baxk to call
The time had come for paybacks they have had enough
the law and order marshels simply were unjust.
The outlaws all deceided they should talk it over first
but when they got together it was a meeting of the worst.
Sundance stared at billy who spit in Jesses face
gun shots starting echoing all about the place.
When the rider on the pale horse rode up in the dusk
everyone was dead and gone and turning into dust.
So much for outlaw justic
or perhaps it was indeed
a justice quite befitting
for a disapearing breed.
Copyright © Susan Ashton | Year Posted 2006
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Susan Ashton Poem
The phantom called a meeting for he wished to unionize
the trucks had been delivering unloading their supplies.
Batman and his Robin boy came bursting through the night
the shadow showed up early to find the perfect light.
The Ranger with his six gun didn't come alone
Tanto rode up with him mounted on his roan.
Cisco came in swaying to his mariachi band
Poncho had his plate of beens and burito in his hand.
When Zero used the bathroom it's there he left his mark
while the sargent rode in circles all about the park.
When Spiderman showed up his shirt was all a mess
a pigeon on a window sill had do-doed on his vest.
I tell you it was crazy when they argued over dues
all they did was sit and eat and drink the phantoms booze.
When the meeting was ajourned the phantom left the room
the heros followed close behind and the room was left in ruins.
They should have never tried to organize
that should have came as no suprise
One has only but to realize
is that why the're all disguised
Copyright © Susan Ashton | Year Posted 2006
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Susan Ashton Poem
I've known the woman all my life
we've had our good we've had our strife.
she raised my brithers and myself
we weren't rich but we had wealth.
I'm talking of the love we shared
she gave us love because she cared.
Twenty years without new shoes
she worked so hard and payed her dues
He'd come on payday and steal the glory
of course we loved him but we knew the story.
She is all that we have now
I wish I could tell her but I don't know how.
We fuss and fight and disagree
she demands her rights and I am free.
I've turned around and walked away
but I think about her every day.
I hate the way some things occur
but she is my mother and I love her.
Copyright © Susan Ashton | Year Posted 2006
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Susan Ashton Poem
The chicken called the roster whos name was Barnyard Red
she said that something stirring over in the shed.
Then Red replied you must be crazy I could wind up dead
that just might be a fox in there and he could have my head.
The chicken said to Barnyard are you saying I should go
the babies all are hungry they need me don't you know.
Barnyard fluffed his feathers and crowed so awlfully low
on the inside he was shaking on the outside nothing showed
When Red stepped threw the doorway he soon was out of sight
the noise you heard was horrible it gave the chicken fright.
she ran into the hen house away from all the light
she told the other chickens red might die tonight.
In the morning when they checked in the shed there was a mess
there was feet and feathers and a beak and Red was gone they guessed
Oh well the chicken said it could be for the best
Red was realy slipping at adding to the nest.
Poor Red he should have noticed the meeting by the rock
where the chicken and the fox had sat and the keys made for the lock
The moral of the story is if your the rooster of the walk
be sure you never get to old cause the chickens they do squawk
Copyright © Susan Ashton | Year Posted 2006
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Susan Ashton Poem
She's a cllector of treasures
which by its glitter she measures
but they soon give her no pleasures.
She has no discern
for what other have earned
she takes without concern.
Is she searching each day
for what got away
are the skies she flies all grey.
She has no devotions
she lives by compulsions
it's a life without emotions.
Copyright © Susan Ashton | Year Posted 2006
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