The writings of Hunter Coch

Poem: Six Bullets ’till Sundown (Draft #2) #westernwednesday

Starting tonight and every Wednesday I shall now dub as Western Wednesdays. Every Wednesday I will post something with a western theme. If you want to join in the fun and use twitter,  just post something western related with the hashtag #westernwednesday or #westwed.

To start off  I present you with the second draft of Six Bullets ’till Sundown:

In a high desert town,
The Dark man walks,
black hat on crown,
while the stranger stalks,
Whistling an melancholy tune.

The dusk hangs low,
On the west facing street,
Dead winds blow,
With a parching heat,
On a solemn sixth day of June.

Then six stared knights,
Block the path of the damned,
The lonely man sights,
As he frees his hands,
A ragged smile is born on his face.

A star raised his brow,
Took three strides,
Presenting a bow,
To the desert he collides,
The dark man won the race.

A crash of thunder and sulfur clouds,
And a red stained sheath,
No sounds of weeping in the missing crowds,
A grim smile shows crooked teeth,
Hands steady as stone.

Night comes near,
The knights eyes done,
Dark man with no fear,
To five men stands one,
And he whistles his favorite tone.

The power of hell brings him,
The darkness longs to steal,
Mud caked hands lower his brim,
His colts bring the real,
And his song sunders spirit.

The five walk with just fear,
Towards the black silhouette,
One weeps an unseen tear,
Their silence bought with regret,
Bowell’s filled with grit.

The motions sting,
Fowl winds blow,
Hands spring,
Bullets sow,
On a solemn sixth day of June.

Crashes of thunder in a cloudless sky,
The haze settles on his east bound path,
The calm of the desert on high,
Only one man and wrath,
Whistling his favorite tune.

A Dark man walks,
On a dust blown street,
And now no stranger stalks,
But dead meat once standing on twelve feet,
Silhouette in the fiery dusk.

Into the night the grim stranger strides,
No starred knights to cross his path,
the silent tension of the cooling town subsides,
From six bullets of wrath,
And the rising scent of musk . . .

And a whistle.

Note: A follow up has been created: This Devils Test


5 responses

  1. Pingback: Poem: This Devils Test (draft #1) . . . #WesternWednesday « Your Predator

  2. wow – stunning!


    September 3, 2009 at 3:39 PM

  3. Thanks for sharing – I enjoyed the trip down Western Lane.



    September 3, 2009 at 3:32 PM

    • No, thank you very much for visiting and for sharing, that made my day.


      September 4, 2009 at 2:46 AM

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