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Poetry Magnum Opus



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Noonday sun burns the back of the land

Dusty columns whirl round

A weathered coat flaps in the wind

As a silver dollar rolls slowly

Into the unclean hand

Of The Badman

Twice boom the silver messengers

Shattering wood, life force

As the tumbleweed rolls, flowers of red

Drip slowly, painting the cracked boards

With the color of justice

A look of disgust, a swift turn

On shining boots and

The Walker strides off into the sun

Victory accomplished, his day



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Whoa, PDgb! Terrific job showing, especially the parts about the silver dollars, the "silver messengers," and the "flowers of red" that "drip slowly." It goes to show how a skilled, imaginative writer can harness any setting, in this case the wild west (something I wouldn't have thought of), and tame it into a poem.



Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Grant, I've read a fair number of your pieces and this is by far my absolute favorite. So many western settings trailed through my mind with this one. I grew up watching Gunsmoke from the time I was five, I see the main street in Dodge City, Stephen King's Trilogy about the dark tower also slammed in. This is really an amazingly good piece, for me. The imagery is superb.



Edited by moonqueen
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I'm with MQ on this, very nice. :icon_sunny:


"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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Interesting and imaginitive subject matter. I liked " flowers of red " and "the colour of justice". The format is concise and works well with your choice of language. Benjamin

Edited by Benjamin
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Frank E Gibbard

Always happy to encounter a new writer. Good introduction to read and enjoyed your Western poem.

Edited by Frank E Gibbard
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