Chained Lightnin'

Chained Lightnin'

A Poem by Iain the Pict

A poem of the Old West, where men were men, but didn't know best, but then...

One day he awoke to the sound of the sun
a chorus of birds and his hand on his gun
with a whiteness of light through the lids of his eyes
as he squinted to see through a day on the rise.

He'd followed the sound of a gunshot west
and where he'd been --and what-- would be best
forgotten and left like the bones of a steer
cut from the herd, bleached whiter than fear.

So he mounted and rode as the sun rose to stare
like a knife at his back on the flanks of his mare
and he scouted a route through the upland sage
as he trotted her west and nurtured his rage.

The gambler with Colts he'd drawn from a rig
of silver tooled leather had killed like a pig
an innocent man with his back to the wall
for his parcel of land, he'd made it his call.

The judgment will come as a term of the crime
no courtroom, no jury, no hangman this time
in the badlands of Utah where no-one grows old
he's lightnin' chained, they'll twist as they fold.

© 2012 Iain the Pict

Author's Note

Iain the Pict
Hit me straight, right between the eyes.

My Review

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You had this reader from the very beginning and left me wanting more.

Posted 8 Years Ago

zane gray would be proud

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Iain the Pict

8 Years Ago

Many thanks, John. Zane Grey - now that's a reference point! I'm definately a fan :-) Cheers, The Pi.. read more
Iain the Pict

8 Years Ago

that's 'definitely' btw ;-)

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2 Reviews
Added on November 22, 2012
Last Updated on November 22, 2012
Tags: Westerns, Cowboys, Outlaws, Gunslingers


Iain the Pict
Iain the Pict

Bedford, South East, United Kingdom

I read and read and write... more..