A poem inspired by the old spagetti westerns, especially the music of Ennio Morricone
Riding with whiskey and animal hide,
Past the rocky hills into the sun,
Living the life of a hired gun.
Slanted Stetson worn on my head,
Riding through the desert of the dead,
Spurs shining in the dusty light,
Scheming vultures take to flight.
The wind whistles as I ride,
Out on my own, no need of a guide,
On my way to the saloon,
Just waiting for high noon.
Neil Chalcraft
Poetry by Neil Chalcraft
Read 559 times
Written on 2006-11-17 at 22:27
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Into The West
Riding, riding with my rifle by my side,Riding with whiskey and animal hide,
Past the rocky hills into the sun,
Living the life of a hired gun.
Slanted Stetson worn on my head,
Riding through the desert of the dead,
Spurs shining in the dusty light,
Scheming vultures take to flight.
The wind whistles as I ride,
Out on my own, no need of a guide,
On my way to the saloon,
Just waiting for high noon.
Neil Chalcraft
Poetry by Neil Chalcraft
Read 559 times
Written on 2006-11-17 at 22:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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