Let's Write About a Gunfighter

[jst5150]

Greets all,

This thread officially starts a new AW poetry project: The Gunfighter Hollis Brown. You can call it the poetic sequel to the Blue Rock Project (http://www.absolutewrite.com/forums/showthread.php?t=35194).

Like the Blue Rock project, the GHB collection seeks your poetic input. So let's contribute poems that share the stories of Hollis Brown, victims of his work, tales of his myth and so on, whatever you like. In the end, we want to paint a picture of his life from birth to death, and the ripple effect that he had on people's lives. (And from this point forward, I'm almost copying verbatim the William Haskins parameters from "Blue Rock" with small changes ...)

In fact, to quote Haskins: "edgar lee masters' brilliant work spoon river anthology. basically, it's a collection of poems about the people of spoon river, written from their graves. it was published in 1916, so i thought, near a century later, that it might be fun to do something similar, but updated."

So, let's write some poetry. :)

There is no rule that you have to write them post-mortem. The person can still be alive. Also, you don't have to write about "yourself"; you can be one townsperson and write about another.

The only rule is that you title the poem with either the subject's name or their "role" (in other words, it could be "Elmore Childs" or it could be "The Town Drunk")

There are no restrictions on form or style.

about Hollis: While I want you all to have as much freedom as possible, it's counterproductive not to have a consistent setting. So, to that end, the guy's name is Hollis Brown. He's a outlaw in the late 19th Century who steals money, kills people and robs trains. However, you can feel free to write about events before or after Hollis in the "now."

Hollis' life is neither romantic nor devoid of emotion. He whatever you will make him to be. Geography is irrelevant. So, if you want him to take a trip to New York City, that's fine. Slow boat to China? That's OK, too. All I ask is this: Gunfighter. Outlaw. Scoundrel. Human being.

So... have fun and play along if you like. if no one is interested, we can just let it fade into the archives. my feelings won't be hurt...

Finally, I'd like you to make whatever work you publish in this thread available under the Creative Commons license. If you are unfamiliar, here's a link (http://creativecommons.org/license/).

I'll have my contribution later today. I'd like to see yours, too. Thanks, again, to Haskins for the inspiration.

[Machel]

I'd like to play but I don't know what to do. Can you break it down for me?

(yea....I'm new)

[jst5150]

Just write a poem (form of your choice) about the above topic and post it here. That's it. :) Post as many or as few as you like. And have fun.

[Machel]

Ok, this is pretty pedestrian but it was fun to write.

The Death of Hollis Brown

6 foot 4 is what he stood
from heel up to his crown
most evil man you'd ever meet
the outlaw Hollis Brown

The ladies made the children hide,
the men all shook with fear
the bustle in the small town stopped
when Mr. Brown came near

Every posse member claimed,
from the gallows he would swing
but just as the lawmen would draw close
old Hollis took to wing

Pistol flashing silver
in the Colorado sun
Hollis spun on dusty boot
to face a threatning gun

"You killed my Pa" a young boy said
shaking from head to toe
"before you pull that trigger boy,
there's something you should know"

"My name is Hollis and I am
a legend in this town"
before he uttered another word
the outlaw hit the ground

"Mister, I don't care
if'n you say yur Billy the Kid,
I told my Ma I'd make you pay
for whut you gone and did"

Now some may say the story of
his death is just a tale
that he still lives up in those hills
growing old and fraile

Others say a grizzly bear
or indians brought him down
but n'ere a man will ever forget
the outlaw Holllis Brown

[skelly]

I'm in for this....let me mull it a bit. Sounds like a lot of fun! I'll have something by tomorrow morning.

Great project, J :)

[JBI]

You want us to try to emulate the idiosyncratic style of Masters, or write in our own way?

[jst5150]

You want us to try to emulate the idiosyncratic style of Masters, or write in our own way?
Whatever for you choose is acceptible. Mostly, I just want you to immerse yourself and enjoy the writing -- and contribute. ;)

[Machel]

Did I do this right? I don't even know what an idiosyncratic style of Masters would be. :-(

[louisgodwin]

Cool! I'm in.


Is there a time limit? A deadline?

[CACTUSWENDY]

Machel....what ever way yours is done ....I think is cool. Nice job.

[skelly]

Okay, here's mine...

Ivory

people said
"hollis, don do it,"
and i reckon it's a petty thing
to kill a man for his gun,
but i've always wanted
ivory pistol grips.
my pa had some
and well i remember them,
up-side my head,
or in the small of my back.

durango's a hard spot anyway,
and i offered to take the gun regular.
he said he'd give it to me alright,
and the whole room hit the floor.

spent powder leaves a thin gray haze
in the sunlight that slants
through the saloon door.

rode out of town
calm as a preacher.
no posse in durango,
no sheriff, far as i know.
the gun felt good on my hip,
heavy and mean,
like it wanted to be there.
prettiest ivory grips you ever seen.

i've always wanted
ivory pistol grips.

my pa had some.

[ddgryphon]

I'm in, but are all the poems about Hollis or can it involve people he's met or knew him as a kid etc. etc.

Just want some clarity--I am interested in this and will participate.

We have till the end of the month--the end of your term?

[jst5150]

I'm in, but are all the poems about Hollis or can it involve people he's met or knew him as a kid etc. etc.

Just want some clarity--I am interested in this and will participate.

We have till the end of the month--the end of your term?
First, the poem can be anything you like as a long as it touches Hollis in some way. You don't even have to mention him. Just so long as there's a tacit connection.

The project will go until June 15 or longer if we keep getting submissions.

Again, I encourage your submissions of any poetic form.

Thank you!

[PattiTheWicked]

Melissa Aldridge

She was on her way to San Francisco
but got stopped somewhere along the way
in a no name town like the one
she left back in Kentucky
so she thought she was just passing through

But the days turned into weeks
and then the weeks turned into years
and she sits and looks out
at a dusty street
the boys look up and whisper "whore"
when she isn't looking
or even if she is

A part time job with part time cowhands
dealing poker doesn’t pay the rent
for a few dollars extra
she takes them upstairs
watches the ceiling for a few minutes
listening to the rhythmic thump
and always ends up sleeping alone

He was on his way to San Francisco
stopped in for whiskey and a game
she took him upstairs
where he warmed her bed
but this time was different
not like the others
because afterwards he just held her and said
I need someone to wake up to

She wondered about him
for weeks on end,
those ice-blue eyes and lazy smile
some time later she saw them
looking up once again
from the "Wanted: Hollis Brown" poster on the sheriff's door

When spring rolled round, she knew she was quick
born in a summer storm
she looks down at her son
with his bright blue eyes
and wonders if someday he might just kill
the boys who call her "whore"

[jst5150]

'Hundred Tombstones

Th' say there's a hundred tombstones
lined here from fence to fence
each one a marble protrusion
but one never made no sense

Dust drifting a Kansas wind dance
An orange glow from a Wichita sun
Carved on one stone's my family name
and buried beneath is my son

Though he started this world a bastard
he came 'round good with some school
but went on to drinkin' and gamblin'
and became a roughridin' fool

I remember the day he went ridin'
And came home with pockets of cash
went to the saloon, found him a hooker
And it all went away with a flash

Then in to our town came that gunfighter
for some rotgut and a quick game of poker
sat down did my boy at the table
lookin' for aces and jokers

Three hands in, that fool boy faltered
Got caught with an ace up his sleeve
Gunfighter emptied one revolver
And the other before he did leave

Bloodied, we did go collect him
What was left did fit in that pine box
I shoveled six feet in a rainstorm
Through weeds and clay and rocks

And I counted each tombstone before 'im
Ninety nine and a deep sense of dread
A gunfighter's bounty lowered in deep
and that bastard made number one hundred

So, should you come ride through Topeka
And you see them stones lining the field
Do take yer hat off and remember
What sometimes a father might feel

[LIVIN]

what's the password for that blue rock link?

[ddgryphon]

what's the password for that blue rock link?

citrus

[jst5150]

Bumping this to thank the current writers for their submissions and to ask you to submit your work to this thread when you're able. :)

[Haggis]

Bumping this to thank the current writers for their submissions and to ask you to submit your work to this thread when you're able. :)

You'll be sorry. :D

Baby Girl Jepson

Ma's minding her own business
In the kitchen making bread,
When that feller started shooting.
One shot hit her in the head.

I guess he didn't mean to,
But he kilt her just the same
With a ricocheting bullet.
Hollis Brown's the feller's name.

He was shooting at some gambler
In the middle of the street
'Cause he'd called him out at poker.
Said he's nothing but a cheat.

The bullet went through him and Ma
Then plowed into the wall.
I think I was alive still
But I really can't recall.

See, Ma was eight months pregnant;
I was curled up in her womb.
So they buried us together
Side-by-side inside her tomb.

Now, Brown he didn't feel bad
When they told him what he'd done.
In fact he started bragging
That he'd bagged a three-for-one.

They say he's mean and evil;
That he kills folks just for fun;
That the devil lives inside him;
That he's deadly with a gun.

So if you run across him
You'd really best beware.
And don't you go and challenge him.
You haven't got a prayer.

*Haggis slithers back to the horror forum where he belongs*

[Stew21]

I put a sticky on this so it stays at the top for a bit. I want it to get noticed! Great project, Jason!

[Jaycinth]

....HUMAN BEING?!!

why did you have to make it fruiting difficult?

[Sarita]

I'm definitely working on something. It'll be a while, but it's forming in there right now. :) I've enjoyed all the poems thus far. Great project, Jas.

[Jaycinth]

Ansel Ferkel: The Ballad of Happy Bend

The morning sun had not yet risen
Over the town he’d been hired to save.
Yet Ansel Ferkel shoveled more dirt,
onto another desolate grave.

They’d come begging to him at sunset,
promising him riches and a feast
they’d offered to him their hearts and their homes
If he’d come, slay the terrible beast.

Ansel did not want their fortunes
Ansel did not want their farms
Ansel did not want their daughters
even though those hearts were warm.

He walked back to the lonely town,
Ansel had no horse to ride,
he returned to the saloon before the sun rose high
and then he went inside.

There were no girls a dancing,
there was no poker game
there were no folks yet walking about
to give ‘Happy Bend’ it’s name.

So Ansel sat there waiting,
his hat was covering his eyes.
He rested, contemplating
what it meant to die.

The sun, it shown all day
and bathed the streets in heat
Yet no one who lived in ‘Happy Bend’
was seen walking down the street.

The trains came down the tracks
they came at noon and three
the trains they came, but they did not stop
Leaving ‘Happy Bend’ to be.

A locomotive stopped at sunset,
a stranger did arrive.
Hollis Brown, he called himself,
and tonight someone would die.

He felt town’s eyes on him
he walked streets cloaked in gloom
He noted telegraph and bank and post
and then went to the saloon.

I’m Hollis Brown, he said gloating
I think you’ve heard of my name!
Get me some whiskey here quickly
Or I’ll be worse than your bane!

He took a seat near to Ansel,
for convenience, or maybe a whim
it was clear his attention was focused
on a bar maid with porcelain skin.

She brought him a bottle of whiskey,
she brought him a bottle of gin.
She brought him smiles to his lusting advances
the barmaid with porcelain skin.

She led him the staircase,
he smiled from ear to ear,
Ruby lips and soft white skin,
what did Hollishave to fear?

He saw them fang’s a flashin’
as they headed to his throat,
the only thing that saved him that night
was a stolen cross around his throat.

He left the town then, running,
Only boots left to his name,
He was found miles away, the very next day,
without even a hat to hide his shame.

Brown told that story often
he told it until he died.
And it was worth your very life
to suggest that he had lied.

The trains don’t stop in Happy Bend,
they haven’t stopped in years,
they say the place is haunted,
Brown’s tale adds to the fears.

But if you ride your horse up
and look around with care,
you’ll see that Ansel Ferkel
is the last one buried there.

Yet you should look a bit farther,
You’ll discover something worse.
Ansel may have been the last one planted there,
but he also was the first.

[jst5150]

A Father and Son

Alone sat the rabbi
In synagogue shabbat
Surrounded in silence save
The scratching of boots on the floor

Turning to see
Chilled chattering cowboy
Who at least remembered
To leave his hat on inside

Rising to shut shul’s door
Muting a roaring rain,
Rabbi removed his prayer shawl
And covered the tall, weary traveler

Without a word, to the kitchen
Where the challah sat warm
But before the prayer
Off came that gun belt

Torn with his fingers, gnarled and weary
Visitor dug in like it might be his last
Rabbi brushed the infamous cowboy’s face
A small hand tender and warm wide smile

Still quiet between them
They said the night’s prayers;
Cowboy stood for Mourner’s Kaddish
fell off during Torah reading

Then came Alenu, and the gunbelt replaced
Rabbi wrapped his arms around Cowboy’s waist
No other words, back out in the rain
And the thunder of infrequent encounters

Alone sat the rabbi
In Sabbath’s dark mantle
Surrounded in sadness
Seeing his son go

[dobiwon]

Here's his epitaph

R I P – Hollis Brown

Here lies the outlaw Hollis Brown
He died the way he lived
His boots were on, he owed no man
Nor wish'd to be forgive'd.

A jealous farmer gunned him down
A man with dirty spurs.
Though primed and cocked, Brown's shiny guns
Would not clear his holsters.

A moral should be taken here
You never ever know
If you will be the faster draw
Or if you'll be too slow.

Good riddance to the scoundrel Brown
Who now fills up this hole
Even though you don't deserve it
May God forgive your soul.

[drachin8]

Haven't written any poetry in a while, but the gunslinger theme caught my interest.


"Can't Miss" Mike

One
Shadow man
Sun don't shine where shadow stands

Two
Easy hands
Ice-slick, greasy clean
Dirt that dark ain't dirt

Three
Hot lumps
Swallow, swallow, swallow again
Heart won't start
Throat won't stop

Four
Cold words
Heard 'em before
Hear 'em again
"Can't Miss" Mike can't miss, says I
You gonna die today, says man

Five
Tin arms
Busted bent and banged to hell
Frayed light
Reflects the law
I am the law
My gun's the law

Six
Empty casings
Burn boots, burn dust
Clank
Clank clank
Clank clank clank
Death sound, grave sound
I know that sound

One
Shadow man
Draws gun, grins



-Michelle

[poetinahat]

I love this idea, Jason. And you've turned up a pile of gems already.

I'll be back this weekend.

[DL Hegel]

I once knew a man named Hollis Brown
He wrecked and robbed--train and town
He killed plenty men fair or not
And died as he lived--with a shot
He helped me -- and I did need
I will never forget his deed
A man named Shawn Flower
Take my land--and my dower
Menacing-- to kill my son
No one would help--except for one
In rode Hollis Brown
And he shot Flower down
A red rose on Hollis' grave
Each and every year
Alone he died -- got what he gave
But beloved by me and always dear
I sing the praise of Hollis Brown
---and the day he put Flower in the ground.

[LIVIN]

The Ballad of Hollis Brown

Hollis Brown roamed around town
Wavin’ his gunfightin’ claws
Hollis Brown would shoot you down
An’ even yur maws an’ yur paws

Hollis Brown roamed around town
Tippin’ his hat to the gals
But Hollis Brown would shoot you down
An’ even all of yur pals

Hollis Brown roamed around town
Struttin’ his cowboy boots
But Hollis Brown would shoot you down
An’ then he’d steal your loot

[drachin8]

Ah, what the heck. One more...


The Brakeman

Man does what a man gots,
Choice 'tween them
And a dozen shots
In the gut.
He'll poke me through,
Too.
Pull the brake,
Let the iron scream.
Better them than me.
Better them than me.



-Michelle

[William Haskins]

in my sixth year,
on the twenty-third day,
i asked my ma—
bent-backed
and broken
in the kansas sun—
to tell me where
i come from.

she looked up
from her work,
skin as cracked
as the earth—
and of the same dust—
eyes as dead
as the crops
beneath our feet.

she spoke his name.

and by god
and my word,
it'll never touch
my breath.

[PattiTheWicked]

Lucy

hardscrabble cabin
farming dirt and mostly rocks
no shoes but for Sundays
on the banks of Guinea Creek
the water the only thing clean for miles

nine children in a loft
six coughing out life in bright red speckles
sitting in the darkness waiting
for Pa to come home stinking
of Davey Basham's latest brew

one whuppin too many
and out the door to freedom
through the Kentucky woods
running west, west, until the woods done end
and the prairie starts in waves

somewhere in a dusty town
rumors start of a name on the wind
flitting by like a ghost in the night
too quick to touch, but soft enough
you know he's been there

gal, they say, that may be your ma's kin
but you don’t want to claim family
go on home to your brothers and sisters
but there ain't nothing left to go back to
except more whuppins and dirt

ragged work dress, cast aside
for an old shirt and men's trousers
hat pulled low over my head
I seen him one night and knew him right off
cause he had the look of my dead ma

hands shaking, to meet a living walking legend
one I share blood with
and I say his name real soft
without a thought he spins
and pulls the trigger

[dobiwon]

RIP -- Dub Feeley, Engineer

Hollis Brown, he put me here
I was once an engineer
On a train he stopped to rob
He and all his dirty mob.

I tried to keep him from the mail
But died within his bullets' hail.
With loot and murder on that day
He made clean his get-away.

My wife and children curse his name
And the legend he became.
He's a scoundrel, pure and cold
May God damn his immortal soul.

[HeronW]

Western Lament

Hangman’s rope is in the corner
hangman standing there close by
dead white hemp has thirteen coils
gonna make me dance on sky.

Scaffold finished late this morning
heard that hammer through the night
clouds so grey, don’t see no sunshine
nevermore to see the light.

One in black stands with a Bible
thinks he’s gonna save my soul
lifts a hand and makes a motion
he dug deep that six foot hole.

One in grey, he holds his rifle
and he’s standing so close by
smiles when he thinks of my kickin’
I’m tryin’ so hard not to die.

Tall thin man stands by a pine box
waiting for that door to fall
looks so sly with eyes so narrow
as he hears the sheriff’s call.

Said I slew a poor young drifter
left his bones upon the sand
no one at the trial spoke for me
blood-stained blade was in my hand.

Now the noose is laid upon me
tightened so I can’t draw breath
bone hilt knife owned by that tin star
watching as I fall through death.

So listen you to my sad tale
all children that you tell
if you’d be free of treachery
stay far from a town called Hel.

[drachin8]

Cheesy rhyme time. :)


Pretty Man Dan

Hollis?
Met him once;
First bullet took my hand.
Tipped his hat,
Apologized;
A gentleman.
Second bullet went as planned.


-Michelle

[Sarita]

Travis Akers

Been working lines
bout fifteen years,
not hungry for a day.
Cold don't catch me
like it did before
this train car saved my life.

The sun was dim,
the twilight chill,
I had no hope to live.
Ache in my gut
gone six days old
took me to the brink.

Dark-banded hat
hard crust of bread,
a blanket, he tossed down.
Said, "they're hiring
on the rails, if
you wanna take a walk."

He pulled a flask,
we had a swig,
I felt it in my bones.
My eyes saw guns,
those ivory grips,
and measured my life gone by.

He whistled then
for Red, his horse
and perched me on his back.
I rode the miles
to spikes and rails,
my savior, he just walked.

Been on the rails
gone fifteen years.
My wife, she likes the pay.
These leathered hands
pray every day,
since Hollis saved my life.

[dobiwon]

Another epitaph

RIP – Lucinda Stone

Here lies pretty Lucinda Stone
The pride of Dallas and San Antone
Whenever Hollis came to town
She'd dress up in her dancing gown.

He'd take her to Redman's Saloon
And charm her till her heart would swoon
He'd satisfy himself, then leave
And she would be alone to grieve.

He said he'd love her till he died
But everybody knew he lied.
When he stopped coming to her bed
She put a slug in her own head.

[drachin8]

Haiku, anyone? Why the heck not...


The Orphan, Ajiko

Hollis--Autumn storm
Stripped blossoms perfume his soles
How beautiful--death



-Michelle

[Sarita]

Delaney Monroe

Down the path with her dog, Jeb
Laney walked through thicket.
I'd go out to rivers edge,
picking berries for my girl.

Less than ten years old, we were
when Laney came to Downing.
Her pa was dead, ma real sick
but I knew what to do.

Clasped my arms around her
she hugged me everyday
cried her tears on shoulders slim
though today, they're broad and strong.

We grew up tough and clever,
but shared our every care.
I never knew my heart could melt
'till Delaney showed me how.

Golden skin and sun kissed hair
eyes set the world alight.
I'd kiss her neck, pull her close
we walked in greening glens.

But skin grew cold and eyes were dim
the day she left my life.
Sun did shine, but darkness grew,
a gulf both deep and wide.

I scratch long days out in my mind,
closer to death I creep.
So when I pull my gun on you,
would you please shoot me first?


.

[dobiwon]

(What can I say? It's a big cemetery!)

RIP – Rev. David Smaltz

Here lies the Reverend Mr. Dave
An outlaw's soul he thought he'd save.
Armed with only the holy book
Hollis Brown's salvation he undertook.

With a bible as his only shield
He tried to get the man to yield
To God's will and to His grace
And save him from the evil place.

But it wasn't in the outlaw's plans
To put his future in the reverend's hands
Brown didn't like to hear his faults
So that was the end of Reverend Smaltz.

=========================

RIP – The Williams Brothers: Jed, Luke, Marty, Johnny, and Ken

Playing poker with the Williams brothers
It was Hollis Brown against the others
They said he cheated, drawing aces
From hidden and illegal places.

Each of them reached for his gun
Five of them against the one.
From underneath the table top
Came five sure and deadly shots.

The Williams brothers fell together
To Brown it didn't matter whether
It was one or it was five
As long he remained alive.

[Jaycinth]

The Ballad of Hollis and the Bear:

The day Hollis Brown went into the swamp,
He did not go in there for a Sunday romp.
He followed a trail of coarse brown hair,
He followed the trail of that loathsome old bear.
Which came into his cabin, late, late that one night,
And gave his old pardner a big deadly bite,
And killed or frightened the horses away,
And ate all the chickens the very next day,
After eating the jerkey and the turnip roots,
And worst of all, Hollis’ favorite boots.
Then, sated the big bear loped away,
Hollis Brown vowed that bear would pay
Because those boots were right uncommon,
Hollis took them from a voodoo shaman
So bare of foot, with knife and gun,
Hollis tracked that bear through the hot noon sun
Through Idaho, Oklahoma, and Tennessee
Then the Bear went into Okefenokee
At that point Hollis rested a bit
Then followed him in, he was mad as spit.
He found that bear by the light of the moon,
Catching fat bass in a fog shrouded lagoon
Hollis, with his eyes in the sights and the gun ready,
Watched the bear startled by an odd water eddy
Then Hollis saw a creature of nightmare,
A fish faced monster rose to challenge the bear,
The bear swatted his paw, raking a fin,
Monster threw a shell ax then, missing him
They struggled for hours in the pale moonlight,
Hollis, hidden by fog, stood watching the fight,
As the night gave in to bright light of day,
The tired old bear began to sway
the monster then hit him right in the eye,
The bear fell down with a splash, and then he died.
Monster turned slowly and spotted Hollis Brown,
So Hollis raised his gun high, and he shot it down.
When he went to see just what he’d killed,
Hollis smiled wide, oh yes he was thrilled.
For the thing that took the bullet and died,
Hollis old boots had resembled its hide!
So whistling and humming like he had no care,
Hollis gutted the monster and skinned that old bear
He took his prizes to the trading post,
‘Look what I done killed’ Hollis did boast.
Then he was approached by the Seminole King
Who asked him ‘You man, you kill that thing?’
‘I sure did, you know, and I suppose,
The skin’ll make new boots to cover my toes.’
‘For years without count, no one has been so bold’
the king said, and gave Hollis a pouch full of gold.
And that is how Hollis Brown got honest loot ,
and that bearskin coat, and those slick new boots.

[CACTUSWENDY]

:popcorn:.........Some mighty fine reading going on here. You guys/gals are good. Thank you all for sharing.

[NeuroFizz]

At Nine-and-a-Half Years
(it all started)

nine and a half fingers
and I can still count

to ten

so don’t cross me
like the one who done took
the half

he was number one

that half still itches
like it’s whole all the way
to the fingernail

and it pulls quicker
on the trigger
that way

[NeuroFizz]

Etta Kathleen

she likes to watch me
take a bath
like it all washes off me
with a little lyesoap

she won’t let me
lay with her
until my hands are washed
of all I done

hers is the only touch
as soft as a Momma’s
the only one who
can rile me
and kiss me
and live

but I always face
the door
my gun cocked
next to the lyesoap

[cray]

i shaved today,...
apologies in advance.



the barber

his hand was steady
but a nervous stroke
a nic so small
is apparently no joke

warm with blood
his eyes seething
must find something
stop the bleeding

kneeling now
hollis’ mark
feeling faint
getting dark

nothing

he hears
last breath
and counts
another death

hollis stood and
turned his back
grinned to himself
shouldered his sack

from the parlor window
the sun dipped low
held for a moment
before a muted glow




the barber
1811 - 1842

[NeuroFizz]

Ezra Buschmeyer

just 'cause
I didn't like
his name

or the way
he said it
like he was
the biggest toad
in the crick

plugged him
through his teeth
from the side
and he shit
his breeches

didn't kill him
but he'll say his name
different
from now on

and everyone'll
give a sniff
when he walks by

[jst5150]

Folks, I can't say enough how fantastic these poems read. You're all very generous and I can't say enough, as many have done here, please -- submit more. This project is open until June 15. And then, as I've said, I'll be building a printed memento to follow (with original art, layout and design).

Again, I'm humbled to everyone for contributing. Keep the work coming and thank you! Now, I'm off to do the reps!

[NeuroFizz]

I Ain't Ready

late at night
in this quiet
I sometimes wonder
if there really is a hell
like the preachers say

the fire cain't be worse
than the sun
on a July noon
and the brimstone
cain't smell worse
than a just shot gun

and if the devil
is a man, he cain't
be that tough
to live like this
and like it

but danged if
I'm ready
to give it a go
to find out
if them preachers
know their truth

[jst5150]

Wished I'd Seen

Wished I'd seen
those dirty Colt Dragoons
flash from their holsters
and his obsidian duster
blowing in the wind

Wished I'd seen
how fast a draw
had taken down
Little Jack Pascoe
and the Reverend Millbrand

Wished I'd seen
them cars full a gold
taken from the B & O
and knew how
he'd hauled it all off

Wished I'd seen
that snakeskin band
'round his black hat
and them rusted spurs
on his snakeskin boots

But instead I seen
another broken rock
under hot Kansas sun
hearin' cons tall tales
blowin' in the wind

[dobiwon]

I'm Afraid of Hollis Brown

I am headed out of town
Before that bastard Hollis Brown
Gets here to shoot me in the back
Like the coward that he is.

I crossed him out in Tupelo
Must be six years back or so
When we were gambling at blackjack
I swapped my losing cards for his.

So I need to high-tail out
If I even have to do without
My spurs, my saddle, my backpack
To escape that wrath of his.

He tracked me down at last I hear
And instilled in me a kind of fear
For killing he achieved a knack
I'll not face that rep of his.

[PattiTheWicked]

The Schoolteacher

Boys and girls, cross your T's
and dot your I's, she said,
squinting out into the dusty streets
at a lone rider on the horizon

A squeak of chalk on slate
she tightens her high collar
and adjusts the brooch that graces her neck
holding a lock of someone else's hair

Moving towards the door,
her long skirt dragging a bit of dust in its wake,
she wonders which of life's lessons
she'll be teaching this afternoon

He stops under the apple tree
over by the fence and tips his hat
then slides down one leg over the other
and stares right back at her

Time's ticked by for ten long years
wasted, spent wondering and longing,
and the lines on his face are
matched by the sadness in hers

Miss Catlett, says a voice behind her,
who's that man out there
and can we have some apples
with supper today?

A thrumming of hooves off in the distance
sounds the alarm, and with one swift move
he's on the horse again
tips his hat farewell

And when the posse goes by
in the heat of the chase
they'll trample into the dust
the single blossom
he left her under the tree

[Meerkat]

The Gunfighter, The Lazy

What grande` definitions
you hombres offer up,
when moved to lift a finger
I call just that enough.

The puniest of efforts
the tallest of effects,
when passions forcing quick hands
let lives descend to wrecks.

And now of all the irony
iron metal sends with lead,
it also draws the dream of
the young and empty head.

So shall the generation
who follows to the street,
will freely challenge, finally,
the next rude soul they meet.

[Festus]

Ok, as a poet, I know I leave a lot to be desired and that I'm not very good. That being said, we had a bunch of folks from different forums come to participate in my Western Ghost Challenge last month. I figured the least I could do was try to participate in this one as a way to say "thanks." Don't read this attempt on an empty stomach! A few stiff drinks first may help. :-)

I was sitting at the bar when he came in,
covered in dust with stubble on his chin.
Howdy friend, you new in town?
Reckon so, name’s Hollis Brown.
I been riding for many a day,
came to this place for a debt to pay.

That weren’t a name I’d never heard,
It was one connected with Jail and bird.
T’was said with a gun he was slick as snot,
and could drop a man with one quick shot.
As on the bar he leaned with his elbows,
I wondered who’d stepped on his toes.

He said no more till he got his drink,
Swallowed it all in just a eye blink.
Motioned to the barkeep to pour him another,
turned to me and said, I came to see your brother.
Mister, I said, you go ahead and start your song,
do it with me, my brother ain’t never done no wrong.

A smile appeared in his leathered face and he said,
Seems like you got the wrong idea in your head.
I ain’t looking to cause him no hurt,
It’s money I owe to your brother Burt.
I done my time and was kicked out of Jail,
Had no money, I was broke as hell.

Meant I had no horse to ride away,
traveled by foot most every day.
It didn’t help that I had no food,
no gun to shoot any, helpless as a dude.
I drank bad water from a mire,
passed out and awoke to a camp fire.

A man was there and he fed me,
took me to a town called Melfree.
Bought me a horse and some guns,
treated me like I was his son.
He spilt with me what money he had,
then he left me, only asked that I don’t be bad.

I can tell you know about my life,
I’ve kilt some men with gun and knife.
Never had another man give me a break,
then along came your brother and spilt his stake.
It’s took me awhile to gather it up,
now here I am to pay up.

When I first came in here, I thought you was him,
You got his looks and you’re both kinda slim.
I knew you had to be his brother,
but it’s him I want to see, not no other.
Weren’t surprised that for him you’d stand,
nor that you were ready to face me, gun in hand.

He smiled and motioned the barkeep for another pour,
then turned his head to the sound of the opened doors.
The man who walked in was Burt, my brother.
And the look on Brown’s face became soft as a Mother's.
Burt came to us, and looked at Brown and grinned.
Why hello, my friend, how have you been?

Well, I’ll tell you true and I’ll tell you straight,
before I met you I was filled with hate.
But in the course of one long day,
You’ve made me see things in a different way.
Brown run his hand deep into his coat pocket,
came out with a sack, heavy, he almost dropped it.

He handed it to Burt with his thanks, then turned to go,
Burt asked: What do you do now? I’d like to know.
Brown turned back and faced us at the bar,
then pulled his coat open, showed us a silver star.
He said, no one who knew me would expect this of me,
because of you, I’m Marshal of Melfree.

End

[Elwood]

The Tomb Stone of Hollis Brown

Two missfires
one too many!

[dobiwon]

Two more epitaphs

RIP -- Willard Glass, Gunsmith

Underneath this plot of grass
Lies the gunsmith Willard Glass.
Buried here and buried deep
In a fitful restless sleep.

To his shop came Hollis Brown
On a rare trip into town.
For the finest guns a man could own
Made of silver, steel, and bone.

Twenty dollars for the pair
Hollis said it sounded fair
But when he came to get the guns
Glass wanted twenty for each one.


==================

RIP – Ira Lipton, Undertaker

Ira Lipton lies in rest
On this sunny hilltop crest.
Ninety years he lived in health
For he was a man of wealth

He made his fortune just because
Well liked by Hollis Brown he was.
The outlaw had a decent side
And a crooked sense of pride.

For ev'ry man whose life he'd end
Burial costs he would extend
Perhaps to save himself from hell
He paid, and he paid very well.

[Little Red Barn]

These are just wonderful. I've enjoyed reading each and every one of them. Awesome and thanks for sharing them!

[jst5150]

Kimmi, join in!

Once again, everyone, thank you!

[quickWit]

The Passing


Hard eyes darken with
each breath, withered fingers
cold as steel.

As a sigh on the wind
he passes, body and spirit
long since broken.

Souls delivered fail to forestall
His judgment, a debt still
outstanding.

Powder and lead bear
silent witness, the sum
of a life...

dust.

[JimmyB27]

Okay, this is weird. I don't read poetry, and I certainly don't write it, but I saw the link here in a sig, followed it, and found some spare inspiration lying around. I think it has something to do with all the Sergio Leone films I've been watching lately.

The Dirty Varmint

The dirty varmint rode to town,
The dirty varmint Hollis Brown.
He rode in on a ragged horse,
Stole from some poor soul o'course.

Guns a-gleamin' in noon sunlight,
He'd yet to learn his wrong from right.
He rode up to the city square,
Shot a man, Brown don't fight fair.

Turned his back and made to go,
The bullet wound would bleed out slow.
Anyway, the man would die,
No doctor'd save him, though they'd try.

From the tavern, he heard a shout,
Turned right back and looked about.
A young man's rifle challenged him,
Held steady, though the boy looked prim.

The varmint Hollis proved too quick,
A loud report, more blood flowed thick.
No one more would come for Brown,
He stood a while and stared 'em down.

He rode out on a ragged horse,
Stole from some poor soul o'course.
The dirty varmint rode from town,
The dirty varmint Hollis Brown.

[jst5150]

Gunfighter's Ode #1

If he’d only given up that horse
Would've stilled my guns' discourse
I might have had me some more remorse
If he’d only given up that horse

If he’d only given up that saddle
There would have been no need to battle
And get a whiff of my soul’s addle
If he’d only given up that saddle

If he’d only given up them trinkets
And done himself a little thinkin'
Just reasoned before that graveyard stink hit
If he’d only given up them trinkets

If he’d only given up that gold
And not leapt off that coach so bold
Saved him from a grave so cold
If he’d only given up that gold

If he’d only said he was a preacher
A collar-wearing Bible teacher
I'd kept it down, this gory creature
If he’d only said he was a preacher

If he’d only given up that horse
But you know just how this ends, of course
And if you’re ridin’, stay on course
Or I will kill you for that horse

[dobiwon]

Bigger than Life Itself

Hollis Brown
More than famous—infamous.
Reputation far and wide
Bigger than life itself.

Was it Hollis
Died in a gunfight—fair and square
Killed by a farmer
Quicker than he?

Or was it he
Who tangled with a grizzly bear
Out in Colorado?
And lost the fight.

Could he still be
Alive and hiding from his reputation
Living quietly
And alone.

Did he reform
And take up an opposite role,
With a badge
And righteousness?

How valid is
The notoriety accredited to him?
Remorseless killer?
Ruthless crook?

What about tales
Of Brown, the sweet and sensitive?
Savior of the weak,
Avenger of the persecuted?

Human nature—
Experts say it's human nature
To emulate a famous person.
Or is Hollis Brown really

Bigger than life itself.

[NeuroFizz]

My Friend, the Scorpion

the body still
arms outstretched, curled
twitching

the cricket crawls
feelers feeling
unaware

quick as gunfighter
the scorpion’s grip
pinches the cricket
before it can jump
crushes it

death is quick
for a purpose
twitching

and like me the sting
is held back
unaware

[jst5150]

Fretting the Night Away

Eggshells against ringing catgut,
his dirty nails plucked away
That six-string singing Spanish song;
gnarled knuckles curled;
Calloused fingertips mashed,
fretting this night away

Long after the inky black
and clanging bar piano ceased;
Cuckolded cowboy notes astray
Kentucky air sweet with staccato;
C notes exchanged with stars,
a scented bourbon suite unfolded

Luscious sounds like oiled oak
twinkled from the heathen outlaw;
Naked whores spooned in comfort
peppered picky fingers flying,
soaring flamenco midnight ride;
Dancing hidden treble clefs

Last fourth out, staff at end,
he cooed, just so, some Sacred Harp;
Mice to piper, whores came forth
pressing flesh against the monster
whose voice fluttered like angel's wings,
fretting this night away

[dobiwon]

He Disappeared

He disappeared.
Nobody saw him.
He disappeared
from Wichita

At first
they were afraid
to believe it.
After six months
the town breathed.
A collective sigh
of relief.

News travels slowly.
The Baltimore Gazette arrives
at least seven months late,
if it arrives at all.

Headlines.
Day after day
of bank robberies
and train robberies
and mail robberies.

Hollis Brown!

Then,
no more news.
Nothing in The Gazette
For weeks.
He disappeared
from Baltimore.

Wichita stopped breathing again.

[NeuroFizz]

Hassayampa

out Arizona way there’s this river
the Hassayampa, also called
the upside-down river
because it cain’t make up its mind
to run underground or on top

in some places the riverbed is dry
but sure as shootin’ there’s a river
under there, flowing free where
no one can see it and only popping
up when it damn sure wants to

I am that Hassayampa River
living in my upside down world
flowing free out here where no one
can see me, I pop up whenever
I damn sure want to, or need to

but it ain’t because I cain’t
make up my own mind
it’s because of them wanted posters
that make every dirt farmer
and every greenhorn
thirsty for a drink of me

[jst5150]

Bumping this to make an appeal to those of you on the fence about submitting. Please. Do. That's what this project is about -- vets AND newcomers. Even if you don't think you can write a LICK of poetry, you can. So, put it here.

Thanks!

[Sarita]

Porcelain

smoke swirls out of
a claw-foot tub.
she scrubs his back
with horsehair brush
feet perch on edge.

cigar smells sweet
against his must.
water tinted
pink and brown, stain
of lust washed clean.

weapons of crime
turned over and
exposed her to
months of murders'
grime, in deep lines.

she tossed the soap,
turned her back on
his darkest sins
without remorse.
"wash your own hands."


.

[Dichroic]

Ever' young gunfighter dreams someday he'll be the best
They think it's all glory; that once a fight's over it's done
And men buy you drinks, and women speak softly and smile
And drinkin' time starts the second you holster your gun.

They don't know 'bout the watchin', the lookout you're always a-keepin'
The constant suspicion, the eyes in the back of your head
The "friends" you can't trust, and the women whose smiles betray
'Cause best's temporary, and second-best only means "dead".

[dobiwon]

My Name

I came into this world unwanted
Needing to face my life undaunted

By a daddy who wouldn't give me his name
And would leave me to garner my own fame.

Out in front, or back-door chatter
Good name or bad name, it don't matter.

Whispered behind closed doors, or worse,
On the tips of tongues, used as a curse.

The name Hollis Brown will live on long
After Hollis Brown is gone.

[quickWit]

Emeline Brown

The bottle keeps the chill of
night and memory at bay,
his shadow crossed so many
trails 'tween then and now.

That tiny clapboard house
standing hard against the wind,
smell of earth and beast
heavy in the air.

Hair bright and wicked as
the flames before him,
eyes green as the south
fields in springtime.

Her laughter was as the
song of angels.

No matter.

Another slug pulls her yet
again from his sight,
laughter fading to dark echo
in his mind.

"She should've listened, should've
known what I am" he says aloud.
What was her name, his
darling daughter?

No matter.

[PattiTheWicked]

Hero Worship

Bang, Jack, I got you,
says little Danny Mills,
pointing a deadly index finger
round the corner of the house

No, damn it, Danny, you're a liar,
you cain't kill me
everyone knows
the outlaws gotta get shot
and kilt first

Foot stomping,
I kilt you fair'n square
Danny screams
I kilt you like Hollis Brown would do
if you was a lawman

Jack laughs and turns his back
on his little brother
and goes in to wash up for supper
Danny won't have none of this
knows he's right, damn it
Hollis Brown wouldn't take Jack's guff
lying down, no siree

Jack can lie all he wants
but Danny will show him later
he knows where Pa
keeps the gun

[Meerkat]

I came, I saw...


Cities?
I've seen cities.
No slicker than
a herd.

Kept my
wits and pieces close,
not drawn nor worth
the word.

The fools,
dandy and knickerbock,
far ruder than
the range...

Would soon
as fallen be replaced,
by equally
as strange.

I came,
I saw, I turned my tail,
and caught the first
rail west.

To where
my single, well aimed shot,
marks staggering
the test.

The Bowery
giants yank and dodge,
and on their own
decline.

The towns
whose few see me arrive,
will feel change caused...

all mine.

[Elwood]

The Secret

“Oh Hollis it feels good!”

“Oh babe I knew it would!”

“I never thought to be caught
by a gunfighter brave so fraught
with lust for the pipe
of heaven’s sweet gripe!”

“Why can’t a man be my man?”

[Dichroic]

Every now and then we hear there's a new one,
The latest man who's ruthless with a gun
And some are fast, and some are only mean,
But each in turn is turned to a dead has-been.

But Hollis Brown is different, they say:
He's in a fight, and then he melts away.
And then we hear he's in some other place,
But none on the road had laid eyes on his face.

He's a man of secrets, that much is surely plain
He can move like a ghost, never seen on a horse, coach or train.
And no one knows why he picks a man to shoot down,
And no one ever suspects sweet Holly Brown.

[dobiwon]

Brown's Rule

They say he never
faced a lawman
gun to gun,
eye to eye.

He wasn't afraid,
or so they say.
He just played
the reputation game.

Marshals won't freeze
because of his rep.
Won't give him the edge
'tween live and die.

The lawmen he shot,
and there were plenty,
he ambushed
or worse, shot in the back.

He didn't play fair,
he made his own rule:
Do what you need to
not to get killed.

[Sarita]

I just wanted to pop on to say that I'm loving all these poems! It's so cool to see some from new participants. :) We're in such great company.

[Meerkat]

Difference Engine

"Hollis," they all chatter,
"you fetch that" and "here take this!"
With my only clothes a-tatter,
give my kingdom for a Miss.

And the townfolk from downstate
equate downtroden with dumb,
In the land of milk and hate,
all the plenty falls to some.

Though you'd never take it freely,
grip my hand and feel the rough.
Share your bounty with your dandies,
friends in need ain't friend enough.

Teach me trades that make me sore,
find my peace in lowly place.
When a call to arms brings war,
that's the first you seek my face.

And whichever side opposed,
be it red or blue or grey...
more in common than supposed,
with the "bad guys" anyway.

With their howitzer or arrow,
with their war paint or their taunt,
Johnny Reb, Geronimo,
shared my misery and gaunt.

My new trade now serves me well,
brings equality to men,
sending he who "had my back" to hell:
that safe, plump citizen.

[jst5150]

My Last Name

Still get shit
for the last name
the history of it
a long dead great grandfather
whose rambling murderous ways
make high school
pure hell

Doesn't help
being brought up
in a trailer
long gone father
mother peeking through drapes
rather than at report cards

Doesn't help
teachers pay attention
to other side of track kids
not ones on the skids
I need a physics tutor
not a lesson in morality

So, maybe, yeah
he had it right
this is L.A.
how hard would it be
to buy a gun
ride around
and kill what bothers me?

Mustang's horse
just a plastic and steel now
town to town
makin' girls, drinkin' wide mouths
some glorious outlaw
set to sink
in society's cracks

Next's class is Algebra
one last try
get through to this guy
wonder if he'll
do the parentheticals first
or just sit me in the back
to contemplate a Glock

[dobiwon]

Offspring

Robbers came and took his horse
And he could not respond, of course.
To be a coward was his fate,
He never would recriminate.

Known to be a timid fellow
Or put more bluntly, simply yellow.
He'd even hang his head disgraced
When they mocked him to his face.

People showed him no respect
No strong response would they expect
If they stole his property
Leaving him in poverty.

It bothered him more as he aged
Inside him he became enraged
At his lack of bravery
A self-imposed slavery.

Deep inside his guts would twist
And one demon wish persist:
An offspring terrorize this town,
To avenge his grandpa, Joseph Brown

[Stylo]

The Farmer's son

Sizzlin' sun was beatin' down
On Hollis Brown, who was a swingin'
From the gnarled limb of an old oak
His neck bent a crooked angle.

We threw some rocks at his dumb corpse
'Til Billy Smithers shouted somethin'
'Bout old Brown's eyes openin'
So we shrieked and went a scatterin'.

Later after supper
I snuck back and stole his shoes.
Tucked up in a toe was a ten dollar bill
And a lock of baby hair wrapped in paper marked 'Rose'.

[jst5150]

If you're just tuning in or have contributed to this thread, thank you. I'm going to harvest the poems that are here June 1 and create a PDF/print edition available for download from Lulu.

If you have artwork or photography you would like to contribute -- and that goes with the theme, please PM me.

You may continue to contribute past the June 1 harvest date. However, the project will close out completely june 15, which is also when the print/PDF version will be available.

Thanks.

[camlin]

There once was the gunslinger Hollis
Whose complexion was unquestionably flawless
His widebrimmed chapeau
Served a purpose, ya' know
Burned skin is no good when you're lawless.

[Writer???]

Little Billy Watkins – You Cain't Bleev Everthin' Pa Tells Ya!

I'd hear'd of 'im afore he showed up.
Legend 'e wuz, even 'fore 'euz dayid.
Pa never put no stock in stories, he jes sayd
how he 'lowed that they growed
and spreaid like wil'far over dried up sage brush,

But we felt the rush. Yung'uns in skool
dreamin' of the cool steel and black leather
worn all smooth an shiney from weather
and hands fast as litnin'; and scars.
Scars on a tanned, hardened face – frightnin' to look at,

so much so they sayd you cain't look
more'an a second er too, an if'n you do
an' ain't well hid...

you'd be dayid 'fore you could blink
the offendin' eye.

Rider come in one day,
sayd he'uz headin' thisaway and done jes kilt
too men over a card game he wudn't even playin' in.
Then jes closed 'is eyes an' with a grin,
drank down half a quart of rotgut in one long
pull from the bottle, bein' cerful not ta holster 'is gun
till 'euz good'n shur ever'un dun seed the need
for keepin' thangs quiet.

Pa dang near throttled me when
I woodn't shet up 'bout 'im,
bleevin' all this "clap-trap" as he called it.
But young boys likta 'magin' the strap 'n slap 'o leather
and bottle swillin', bullet slingin' outlaws.

Now, ya gotta unnerstan' that 'es an old man
(dang near thurty-five)
and Pa 'members it differnt from me.
I won't say it's funny, but 'e reclects
how it was sunny, but I wasa standin' in the rain,
an' litnin' flashed 'cross the sky
right 'bout the time I caught 'is eye,
and I frozed right whar I was stood.

Now don't be askin' me whut made 'im change 'is mind,
but I knowed I saw 'im draw 'is gun,
then, an' I ain't never figered out why,
'e slides 'er back, easy like, in the holster.

Pa, not one fer spreaidin' roomers, recalls
from inside the tired walls of 'is old, an' often
poorly organized mind, how 'e jes walked right up
an' says, "Hey Hollis." an' shook the devil's hand.

An' 'course 'e never drawed 'is gun,
an' that "flash 'o litnin'" that I seed -
on that we ain't never agreed -

Pa says it wernt nuthin' but a glint
o' the sun offin Hollis' silver tooth 'ed had dang near
since Pa knocked 'im a loop when they'uz kids.

But like I sayez,
Pa's old an' not likely to reclect to clearly
how dearly close to daid 'e came that day.

The details, pounded like nails
no hammer claw, nor cat's paw
could pull from a yunguns quick mind
an' quicker eye -
keen to spot the moves
of a daidly gunslinger -
is etched by a finger blessed with
akurissy an' youth;

an' I aways tell the truth.

Hollis Brown's a low down, rott'n,
devil begott'n, son of a...

even if'n 'e did et dinner at our house
an' not kill my Pa fer askin' 'im ta take 'is guns
off at the table.

[jst5150]

Head shot

Front's nothin' more
than a trickle
from a pinky hole
see sand the other side
eyes wide with surprise

Back's the mess
scattered gray 'n white jelly
Sangue pooled burgundy still
skull opens up
like a broken jewelry box

Always liked me a head shot

[dobiwon]

Keepin' Practice

Feeling orn’ry
Lack of practice
Stick some bottles
On a cactus.

Practice aiming
Draw and shoot
Gotta maintain
His repute.

But glass don’t move
Or bottles dodge
They don’t shoot back
Nor hold a grudge.

Could shoot a hare
With tail of white
But they just ain’t
Much of a fight

So head to town
And find a drunk
Provoke him good
And shoot the skunk.

He don’t care none
For man nor beast
He likes ‘em best
When they’re deceased.

The fewer men
Still left alive
Increase his chances
To survive.

He’ll practice hard
And practice mean.
To remain a
Killin’ machine.

[Dar]

Pears from perennial cactuses,
riders ridden of their rights,
what's the Wild West?

One Gun for his pocket,
left finger feeling the trigger,
right barrel ready,
staring down the man.

His name, a stud among the men,
soon becomes a whisper among the weeds.

[Writer???]

Harvey Fremantle's Lament

Ahm tellin' ya all,
from the thangs that I saw,
they weren’t one redeemin' quality
in the man the way dere oughterbe -
jes a man full of gall.

The hate lovin' man
with the fast right han'
what rode inta town
jes' ta gun a few down –
spreadin' fear throughout the lan'

More'n a gunslinger
er braggin' hum-dinger,
a tetch of evil oozed from
the pores of da low down bum
the wicked Hollis Brown.

Hollis Brown the killer
A deadly graveyard filler
cared not fer man, woman, ner child
'ed ride inta town spewing evil around
when 'e left, the bodies lay piled.

He enjoyed his work
too much they say.
Work!?!? Hell,
they weren’t even no pay,

'e liked watchin' men die
and they's womenfolk cry,
the wicked Hollis Brown.

Hollis Brown the killer
A deadly graveyard filler
cared not fer man, woman, ner child
'ed ride inta town spewing evil around
when 'e left the bodies lay piled.

[Thrillride]

Twas’ no wish of mine
To lie down by your side,
My body gave way to your strength.
To spit in your face
Wouldn’t bring back my chaste
Hatred sat down to reside.

A mongrel in deed,
Still I carried your seed.
You were struck down long before
you could honor her.

I think all the same,
I will give her your name
per chance she’ll redeem
said moniker.



Author’s note : I'm not a poet. My oldest daughter’s name is Hollis, so I just had to whip this out!
(Now, I keep looking at it to fix it - damn writer's brain!)

[NeuroFizz]

Funeral for My Horse

saddlesore and mournin’
I rode my best friend
to death, all for
six bits and the squeeze
of a whore

and if they think a tracker
is easy to track
I’ll have a new best friend
‘fore the first one falls
and the last one screams
for his maker

[PattiTheWicked]

Li Chen

Working on the railroad
all the painful day
muscles burning
body on fire
whips cracking
as the boss yells
to move faster, you goddamned coolie,
don't you speakee English?

Up to the waist in mud
and dust
and rocks
planting little red stick seeds
an art form
to watch a mountain blossom
and come crashing down
from the heavens

And last Sunday after the boss
made us listen to the preacher
man rides up on a horse
says you're good with that thar
blasting powder son
could use a man like you
if you're tired of the railroad

I talk to him often with my hands
it's easier to speak that way
and we have discovered that
little red stick seeds
create quite a blossom in the side
of a bank
and although I can't quite say
his name correctly
he never calls me coolie
but addresses me
with honor

[dobiwon]

One time

Upstairs in one
o’ the business rooms
o’ the saloon.
I had me the perfect lady.

Tired myself out
I did.
Slept like a baby
After a two-tits meal.

Wake’d up,
found m’ shirt,
m’ boots
m’ gunbelt and m’ spurs.
No pants.

Force of habit
saved m’ gun.
Keep’d it under
the pillow
like I always do.

Went downstairs
to a bar-room full
of laughing jackels
pointing at
m’ BVD’s.

Hadda' shoot ‘em all.

[Writer???]

Hollis Brown Creed

Hollis Brown
was an evil one
and lived by a code
of his making

You weren't squat
in the wicked mans eyes
and your life
was his for the taking

He made his own rules
suited best to his greed
and suffered no fools
as summed up in his creed

"By Father Gun
and leaded Son
stay out of the way of my pleasures
step aside or bow down
or get the hell out of town
or I'll send you to see Heaven's treasures

By Father Gun
and leaded Son
you'll make a fine ghost
when I'm done – amen."

[jst5150]

All,

Thanks again for everyone's work here. It's fantastic. We've had plenty of people come by and see it. This project is much better than I could have pissibly imagined.

That said, if you're lurking and you'd like to submit, please do. I'll be collecting the poems to shove into a compendium June 1. Not sure exactly when the compendium will be available. However, I;m guessing around the end of June.

Thanks, and now I'm off to rep people for their work!

[lakotagirl]

OK I'll take a shot at it.

He stared at the house from behind the shed
He wondered what to do
The men that shot his daddy dead
Were lookin for ma too

He was eight years old - just too darned young
To help his ma and pa
These terrible men would never be hung
They were the local law

The sheriff wanted daddy's land
Daddy wouldn't sell
Just rocks and dirt and gritty sand
One step above real hell

He watched the men catch his ma
He screamed a silent plea
His eyes too young for what he saw
It was time to flee

He vowed to take these bad men down
He didn't care who joined them
Eight year old Hollis Brown
The law had taught him mayhem

Judge him if you want to
You weren't there that day
He's killed every man who took ma down
He's ready now to pay

[Teena]

Oh, this is a great theme. Will put on my thinking cap...uh, Stetson...and come up with a contribution. Great job everyone.

[Teena]

This came out unexpectedly dark & icky, but stories do tell themselves, so I may try again. Sorry about this...

Little Bill’s Story

Pa was a hard-scrabble farmer
Ma, his reason for living
a slip of a girl from Dixie, soft, slow-talking
smelling of honeysuckle
He shuddered at the privilege of touching her
would’a sold me twice for her smile
never drank a drop, didn’t tote a gun
til mid-summer’s day

Pa worked the far field with the strength of his love
watered it with his sweat, staggered home
the sight of her his sustenance
In the cabin he found what they’d left
used, broken, tossed to the floor
Ma in a dark pool, copper-scented
me balled up under the bed
unblinking and silent

Pa and me froze up that July
my tongue couldn’t push out words
and his wouldn’t
His frosty gaze pierced me with loathing
til I regretted the ten years I’d lived
sentenced to keep living for a time
to hear the echoes of screams
and be impotent

Pa spat my name like a curse
“Billy Brown” as he rode away
hooves raining dirt on withering crops
a rifle in the scabbard, a gun on his hip
vengeance bigger than God in his icy heart
sworn to shed a gallon of blood
for every drop of hers
an outlaw was born

Hollis Brown killed a hundred men ~
but never a woman, that’s a lie!
and never a child though his daughter died
still snug inside Ma, wrapped in her cold arms
They made him a monster
to clean the slate, he’ll come for me last
and here on the stoop smelling honeysuckle
I hope it’s soon

[Teena]

More what I had in mind... :guns:


The Gunfight

eyes squint tight in mid-day sun
perspiration starts to run
fingers twitch, curl up, go slack
nerve-ends skitter down my back
shoulders knot and tense with stress
hatband tightens, starts to press
stance is wide, knees locked in place
heart beats loud, begins to race
muscles shake, can’t stand the strain
who will live to fight again
cold inside from toe to crown
staring back at Hollis Brown

waist band chafes and boot toes pinch
leather belt won’t give an inch
sweat stains blossom, start to smell
sun shines down as hot as hell
Lord, is it too late to pray
please wash all my sins away
if it’s not too much to ask
let his bullet miss it’s task
clock ticks twice before high noon
now the time can’t come too soon
slap my holster and draw down
on the outlaw Hollis Brown

[Meerkat]

Golgotha

Talk all you care,
Damon Runyan,
of Justice fair,
and "rag-to-rich."

Just us know where
the sad truth lies,
in lies told by
that unblind witch.

Buying their way,
with unsoiled shoes,
whose coffers fill
with unearned coins.

Marking their stay,
with stolen dues,
from men: good will,
from women: loins.

I took my aim,
at who earned most,
their cheating game,
and vile boast.

I'll pay the price,
my boot hill end,
beside the vice,
I called my friend.

Give me your tired,
your weary soul,
not paid when hired,
held back from goal.

Gaze on my eyes,
as we both drop,
the town's mob dies,
we're all hell's crop.

[jst5150]

Once again everyone, thank you. I've compiled what I have so far here and will begin laying out the PDF today and tonight.

However, I'd like to offer one last call for submissions and alibis right ere, right now. You have until Friday. I'm looking for something to put as the last poem -- a wrap-up, if you will. Will it be yours? Submit it here before Friday afternoon, 1 p.m. EDT.

Thanks!

[PattiTheWicked]

The Genealogist

Starting with dad and mom
Going back a generation or five
The puzzle expanding out from the middle
No edges or corners or ending

Digging through musty records
A pattern begins to unfold
A name in a family bible
Scratched out and later
penciled back in

A clipping from a faded newspaper
A page from a Kansas widow's diary
A Chinese businessman's memoirs
The colorful ramblings of an aging prostitute

A trail, then, to follow
From Kentucky through Arkansas,
Missouri and bleeding Kansas,
down Texas to Mexico and back
up to the California gold mines

A front-page story from 1880
Suddenly provides a missing piece
The scratched out name is now
A face on a "Wanted" poster

And somehow, some way
despite the chase,
This man left himself behind
In the memories and wombs of
Half a dozen women

And his blood travels down
Through a generation or five
And though he's been dead for a century
He lives on in hundreds
Of other unsuspecting fools

[kdnxdr]

Namesake

"Holly, my babe!"
"Beware of the water's edge."
"Why, papa dear, you've
nothing to fear", giving an innocent's pledge.

Hollis looked on, in silence
that grew, knowing he would leave;
in one brief moment, sadness
was his, but thunder gave him reprieve.

The babe threw her flowers
to float on the stream,
for Hollis, the time seemed like hours;
the wind brought an end to the dream.

His mouth turned sour, and biting
his lip, he turned for the long hard ride;
he never quit fighting, stealing or killin',
'cause he had died long ago inside.

[jst5150]

Again, deadline for submissions is 1 p.m. EDT today. That's 6 p.m. London and 7 a.m. Hawaii.

[LIVIN]

What's the word on Hollis Brown?

[jst5150]

He's alive. I'm working on Hollis and another AW compilation. Goal is for both to be done by week's end believe it or not. :)

Thanks!

[LIVIN]

No, I don't believe it. :Shrug:

[jst5150]

Well, that is the goal. :)

[jst5150]

Update is here:

http://www.absolutewrite.com/forums/showthread.php?t=134282