As the wind howls through town,
tumbleweeds roll down the street rapidly
turning faster then black clouds
in warning that it's the anniversary of
Ole Jack's killing spree.
Listen hear their screams of "mercy!"
as his two pearl handle colts aimed
fast, on target...Until she stepped out
with her double barrel shot gun
blood in her eyes; fear had erased her soul
he had killed her only son
just for some sport or fun who knows?
"On the count of three Jack draw"
her voice blended with the frantic gale.
Jack laugh taking his stance...
"A woman, her gun will be going to hell"
he roared..until! "One two three!"
Bella turned like lightning
eyes of an eagle, he fell like a snowball
in a blizzard cold white and still.
His guns cold she claimed her goal
of the gun-slinging man with words
so untamed, bold.
Killing man woman, child whom uttered
his real name I was told.
1843 Nov. 2 R.I.P.
Applejack Jackson
Author notes
Jack was a mean angery man because he hated his first name that his maw gave him, because his paw stayed drunk on that good ole applejack....
prompt:
As the wind howls through town,
tumbleweeds roll down the street.
In a list
A contest entry
- Ghastly Sight by west-word.
1400 points, ended November 3, 7 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Was she bad or what?
Comments
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Sharp and desperate, the pace of the poem smacks you in the face with the wanton madness that could be found in the fire and reckless west. Justice is a human creation, instinct vindicated by our sense of right. Well written, capturing a lot with a little.
Love,
Tom B.
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Took my back in time to the wild, wild West
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What a great write I really got into this one, such wonderful imaginary so real and amazing well done
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