RPMI
10-10-2007, 05:37 PM
One so brave should never stand;
Be allowed to wave others away,
Or live when faced with an oncoming draw hand.
Taking into his hands the laws of the lands.
The whistle of the wind conflictingly sounds,
Making a driven voiced sound.
“Bring to an end…”
“Stop while you can…”
Whispering, “Don’t make this final passage plan.”
The whistle of the wind tunefully sounds,
While one mans boots touch the ground.
The dust crumbing beneath the boot,
The wind wavers the newly bought suit,
While an undaunted man walks along…
Passing stable and beyond;
A lone man sat in the sidewalk, nodding a final salute.
Tipping back a black solemn hat,
Barely attempting to nod and respond.
Circumspectly twelve chimes of the bell ring in apprehension… … …
Two distant cracks of the bull,
Charging forward in an air of transparency.
Shocked glint in an unwavering eye,
No longer able to stand,
He falls to his knees in the dust,
No match against that oncoming fleeting hand,
Was that one brave man.
Callous blood seeps to the dust of the loam,
Stained in a murk of maroon liquor;
A revolver falls in a flicker.
Quicker than that of the dilapidated proprietor.
To this earth nothing weaker than an unsecured bond,
With no such strength as to respond.
Descending to the dust,
Life dwindling as it must.
To merge forever with the surface of life.
Hope people actually like this, personally i think it sounds like something a child wrote. Any comments, positive or negative, would be much appriciated.
Be allowed to wave others away,
Or live when faced with an oncoming draw hand.
Taking into his hands the laws of the lands.
The whistle of the wind conflictingly sounds,
Making a driven voiced sound.
“Bring to an end…”
“Stop while you can…”
Whispering, “Don’t make this final passage plan.”
The whistle of the wind tunefully sounds,
While one mans boots touch the ground.
The dust crumbing beneath the boot,
The wind wavers the newly bought suit,
While an undaunted man walks along…
Passing stable and beyond;
A lone man sat in the sidewalk, nodding a final salute.
Tipping back a black solemn hat,
Barely attempting to nod and respond.
Circumspectly twelve chimes of the bell ring in apprehension… … …
Two distant cracks of the bull,
Charging forward in an air of transparency.
Shocked glint in an unwavering eye,
No longer able to stand,
He falls to his knees in the dust,
No match against that oncoming fleeting hand,
Was that one brave man.
Callous blood seeps to the dust of the loam,
Stained in a murk of maroon liquor;
A revolver falls in a flicker.
Quicker than that of the dilapidated proprietor.
To this earth nothing weaker than an unsecured bond,
With no such strength as to respond.
Descending to the dust,
Life dwindling as it must.
To merge forever with the surface of life.
Hope people actually like this, personally i think it sounds like something a child wrote. Any comments, positive or negative, would be much appriciated.