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New Poem-18/05/06

Angus Cattle Shower

Well-known member
When the sun sinks and fades
The colours stretch from coast to coast
When the cowboys fought with blades
While the horses were tied to their hitching pole

The dust has settled on their boots n hat
They come to the saloon to wash It down
Drinking whiskey and talking of this n that
And when night sets they leave town

In the morn, out on the far side of Deadwood
Two rebels are shootin it out
One bullet hits its mark, the other hits the dust and one cowboy stood
His gun cleared leather quick, with him standin tall n stout

While I ride the big roan heading east
Tryin to get out and find a place to call home
I ride from dawn to dusty, only to look into the eyes of the beast
And at night I head to the saloon to sip some foam

Living the life of a gambler and a rider
I keep on going farther and farther from what I love
I want a home, a place to live, a place to sit and sip cider
I have ridden the prairie, shot, and dove

All I have is my pistol, saddle, rifle and horse
My life is on the line, specially if I keep packin iron
I kept heading this way, made by some sort of force
All o f a sudden, something went off in my head, like a siren

A bullet whipped past my head with a loud whine
I jump of my hoss, hit the ground with guns in hand
Pumping, triggering, and levering all of the shells I can this time
I got off the ground, reloaded, and took a stand

I’m sick and tired of having to dodge lead
And having to shoot to make it here
Cause one of these days it could be me getting shot in the head
And for a final entrance, I walked into a saloon and ordered a beer

I go into a quickly paced poker game
And all the chips were won with my hands
The man who called me a cheat apparently had a great deal of fame
For when he drew the gun in my palm had bucked off and I ran off to the lands


While I passed through a desert of heat and sand that was dry
I was weary on my mount with my lips all parched
I caught myself wishing for an ice-cold rye
We went till sunset, and looking for a place to stay my mount marched

There, a creek. I hopped off and lit out
I kept running till I realized Id never get to it
My horse nudged me and I crawled into the saddle, unable to sit stout
And off the mount ran, like it were in a big ol’ fit

We rounded off a hill and I thought I knew this place
It looked so familiar, and then it hit me-this is where I grew up
I looked around, found my old place, knocked on the door, and I saw my momma’s face
I was here, I was home, and now I could drink my coffee in a real cup.

I need a title and some good critisism. lol. I made it uop in bed this mornin. lol
 

Jinglebob

Well-known member
Meter is off in a few places, a couple of the ryhmes don't work. Good effort. Oh and rye isn't usually sipped ice cold, but I guess it could be. Only in them old days, they didn't have much ice except in the winter.

Hey, you asked. :wink:

Keep it up. Like I said, a real good effort. If your happy with it, that's what really matters. :wink:

Have you been reading westerns? :D
 

Angus Cattle Shower

Well-known member
Jinglebob said:
Meter is off in a few places, a couple of the ryhmes don't work. Good effort. Oh and rye isn't usually sipped ice cold, but I guess it could be. Only in them old days, they didn't have much ice except in the winter.

Hey, you asked. :wink:

Keep it up. Like I said, a real good effort. If your happy with it, that's what really matters. :wink:

Have you been reading westerns? :D

What is meter? lol.

I never said he drank it-just his fav. drink, and cold. lol. I'm being a little smart alec. lol.

How did you knwo Ive been reading westarns?! :lol: :lol:
 

Jinglebob

Well-known member
Angus Cattle Shower said:
What is meter? lol.

:

Good question. I'm not sure I can answer it in a way you will understand, but here goes.

Meter is the amount of stressed sylybles in a line of poetry. You follow a pattern.

there was MOVEMENT at the STATION
for the WORD had PASSED around
that the COLT from old REGRET had PASSED away
he was WORTH a thousand POUNDS
so ALL the CRACKS had GATHERED for the fray

(from Man from Snowy River)

You start a pattern with your first 3 or 4 lines and follow that same pattern thru' out the whole poem.

When it's right, it sound smooth and good. When it's wrong, it sounds jerky and rough.

Find some old poetry that you like and read it out loud and ytouy'll find the meter.

Some people beat out the rythym of the meter on their leg. I just have to struggle and work at it and I have a hard time with it.

They say that if you want to see if you have good meter, give a poem you wrote to someone else, prefferably not a poet, and have them read it outloud. If they don't have trouble reading it and it rolls off their tounge smooth and easy, you have good meter. If not, you have poor meter.

Read all of your poems out loud as that is the best way to find flaws.

Hope you understand what I'm trying to say. Find someone around you who writes good poetry and have them help you.

Of course, they tell me there is "blank" meter poetry, but I don't care for much of it.

:wink:

Keep writing and you'll get better. Practice makes perfect. :D
 

Big Muddy rancher

Well-known member
Meter was explained good by JB. I think someone and maybe it was JB described it as the beats of a horse. A rythm. Your horse just stepped in the odd gopher hole. You have to be really gifted to hit the meter right the first edit on a poem but most can be tuned up with a little work.

Keep up the effort and work thru your poem trying to get the same beat to each verse.
 

Angus Cattle Shower

Well-known member
Big Muddy rancher said:
Meter was explained good by JB. I think someone and maybe it was JB described it as the beats of a horse. A rythm. Your horse just stepped in the odd gopher hole. You have to be really gifted to hit the meter right the first edit on a poem but most can be tuned up with a little work.

Keep up the effort and work thru your poem trying to get the same beat to each verse.

ok, ill try that. Thanks again!
 

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