deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Dying Gunslinger
- The Dying Gunslinger -
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
Published 24th Jan 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 4
reads 817
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
24th Jan 2012 9:11am
26th Jan 2012 5:11am
16th Nov 2022 2:50pm
A sort of weird and quite unexpected twist........as expected in the competition. Good luck. Regards. Robert.
22nd Nov 2022 00:59am
Many thanks! It was very much intended to be a weird western type of story... one that is quite different, from what most people might more typically associate with the western genre. I tried to imbue this story, with a certain creepy, campfire tale sort of vibe and it really went quite nicely with the style of the story being in the form of a poem. I am glad you enjoyed giving it a read! Thanks for dropping by to comment. :)
