Wrote a Poem

Discussion in 'The Okie Corral' started by Lotus000, Jan 2, 2010.

  1. Lotus000

    Lotus000

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    I got bored today because I've got a sore throat and didn't feel like going through my regular motions, so I decided to take a few minutes and write a poem instead of working on my regular, main writing project. I'm going to go through next weekend when I get more time and edit it.

    It's about a guy who meets an old friend after some hard times. They get together and head out to Colorado during the gold rush out there in the late 1850's and early 1860's.

    **********

    I took up with crew at Portsmouth
    We refit at Isle of Man,
    And it was a merry voyage
    To the shores American

    I came in upon a clipper
    At the head of Boston Bay
    And we sailed upon that morning
    And parted ways upon the quay

    I was rigging in the timbers
    Wrapping ropes atop the stack
    When a gust came blowing thither
    And put me down upon my back

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    I took up with the dragon
    While I learned to walk again
    The Celestial man was willing
    But was never once a friend

    'Twas Charlie Dowd that found me
    Rememb'ring drunk in days of yore
    He recognized me from a voyage
    We travl'd on in years before

    He picked me up in earnest
    Set me back upon the path
    Of wanton willing righteousness
    That was earlier largely lacked.

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    He told me of a trip he'd took
    Upon the Autumn last
    Of a land called Colorado
    Full of forgetting--there no past

    He said out there were places
    Where no men had walked before
    I told him my spirit was all willing
    But of my body, I was not sure

    So then we boarded on a train
    The track a serpent on the ground
    A far long reaching stretch reminding me,
    Of times long since gone, and never found

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    Charlie was a hunter
    A mountain-man if ever known
    He toted traps and a Henry
    And my friendship, all in one

    He took me to a cabin
    Tucked in yonder, sun drenched woods
    And there men sometimes speak to God
    But always--never should.

    If one thing of those days
    Keeping with me, always wrought
    In ivory adamant memories;
    A friend for life had Charlie got.

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    He came one day upon a rock
    In a hollow in the ground
    He struck it once with a steel-tipped pick
    And gold came pouring down.

    I stood in awe as Charlie held
    A hand so Croesus-bright
    His sack a horn of plenty
    Glinting yellow in the light


    Two men had long since been
    Rich in friendship, poor in coin
    With a quick-strike axe-blow
    A change in fortunes now had blown.

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    But dark men had seen old Charlie
    Strike the axe upon the vein
    Black thoughts crossed minds in vigor
    Soon Charlie would be slain

    Shots rang out in plenty
    From the edge of a cold quick creek
    And saw my savior Charlie die
    And felt my heart would break

    My eyes were glowing brimstone
    My brow a veil of tears
    A friend so good as Charlie
    Ne’er had I had in so few years.

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one

    The smoke hung thick upon the air
    As the echoes slowly died
    Charlie lay down slowly
    Smiling softly; pain belied

    His hand held Benediction
    All the more this world forgot
    And I watched my friend there passing
    Dismay'd at Devil's lot

    And I cannot see through rushes
    And I cannot wield a gun
    But it was all for naught, instead
    Back in the spring of sixty-one
     
  2. Rizzo

    Rizzo Garbage Day!

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    Pretty good. Although if I may make a comment for this stanza:

    Shots rang out in plenty
    From the edge of a cold quick creek
    And saw my savior Charlie die
    And felt my heart would break


    I might have used lake instead of creek; it would rhyme better with break. (Although "quick lake" doesn't really make sense; it'd have to be reworded slightly.) Just my suggestion.



     

  3. tadbart

    tadbart duuuuude.

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    Jesus, Rizzo.

    After 7.5 years, I doubt he cares about your edit. Dude, how deep didja hafta dig to find this? Was this even on GlockTalk, or was it on BrownBessTalk?
     
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  4. Rizzo

    Rizzo Garbage Day!

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    Page 5,060 something-or-other. Sometimes when I can't sleep I'll go prospectin'. I figured the poor guy deserves at least one response/acknowledgement after all this time, and besides, literature is timeless.

    "Brownbesstalk"... :rofl:
     
  5. Stevekozak

    Stevekozak Returning video

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    I was going to suggest the guy keep his day job. 7 years, he is probably on food stamps by now.
     
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  6. tadbart

    tadbart duuuuude.

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    Glad you caught my humor, man. After rereading, it sounded more harsh than funny. I feel ya on the not sleeping thing. Last night it was hoodrats and fireworks.
     
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  7. Rizzo

    Rizzo Garbage Day!

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    I could have done without that one stanza that kept repeating, the one about not seeing through rushes or wielding a gun; that seems more like a song than a poem.

    But then again Ah's just a simple man; Ah ain't one them there fancy-pants pontificatin' poet types or nothin', Ah's just happy when they rhyme. :dunno:

    Yes. Fireworks. :steamed:

    I was considering starting a thread about inconsiderate ****bags blasting big ones past 11pm when there are people out there that have to WORK early in the morning, but didn't really feel like hashing it out with all kinds of "Yew hate 'Merica! Yew hate Freedom! God bless Independence Day!" type posts. :chatter:

    So I went prospectin'. It's interesting what you can find, and somewhat bittersweet when you find members that left.
     
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  8. G30SF/F-250

    G30SF/F-250 Pinky Out Platinum Member

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    Roses are red.....
     
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  9. KWalrad

    KWalrad DILLIGAF

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    Mister, if I ever meet you in person, I'm buying you a beer (or six)!
     
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  10. KWalrad

    KWalrad DILLIGAF

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    ... Pink snappers are pink...
     
  11. Joshhtn

    Joshhtn The eBay Guy Silver Member

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    Why you gotta be all anti-'merican?? I mean, if you don't like it, you can get out...

    #fireworksmakeamericagreatagain :waving:





    :D
     
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  12. Rizzo

    Rizzo Garbage Day!

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    Joshhtn likes this.