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Daily Archives: October 7, 2015

The last Gunfighter

A strange old man stood at the bar

He wore an old black frock coat

And a black Stetson to match

A  rusty gun was strapped to his hip,

He turned and looked straight at me

With a smile and a wink,

He said “buy me a drink.”

He had a scar from ear to ear

That looked like he had a permanent grin,

”So  buy me drink” he said

With a cheeky wink,

He’s the local drunk

Who lives in the past of the old Wild West,

He says he’s a gunfighter the last of his breed,

So buy him a drink and lend him an ear

And he will tell you a tale about is past

When he rode with the best

Jesse James and Billy the kid,

Across the wild west

He’s says he’s a gunfighter the last of his breed

Then he walked to the door and into the street

He looked side to side

As  he goes for his gun

He’s caught by the sun,

Now he lays dead on the ground

A gunfighter the last of his breed

And  a  ghost from the past

Thomas Sims

Tribute to the late Johnny Cash

(February 26, 1932 – September 12, 2003)


A Precious Jewel


A jewel within the universe,

Of beauty to behold,

A land of plenty,

Her treasure she unfolds.


What has man done to her?

In his quest for wealth and money,

Took the materials from the earth,

For luxury milk and honey.


This precious jewel we live on,

Has been abused by man,

Profiting from nature,

Taking what ever he can.


A world that is barren,

Of rocks, dust and sand,

Will be our future,

If we all don’t take a stand.


So let us all join together,

To give Mother Nature a hand,

To protect the world we live on,

To enjoy this beautiful land.


Malcolm G Bradshaw

Nightly Reverence


When while a day goes quietly the nigh

soft hearts may ponder a delicate noon-

time pleasure. That is the moment inside

a dream slow to respond, yet urgency

calls upon a name to satisfy sweet

melody, a caress, play, we digress.

For when might anyone ask forgiveness

upon simple words, golden, a sparkle

of intent defines passing encounters.

Each streaming ray of hope dances our brows

well toward jest’s enigmatic interlude.

-patience beckons a rare emotion served-

When then we bask in the moonlight of love

we know surely, our lives are drawn above.


© Thom Amundsen

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