THERE ARE STORIES OLD AS HORSES
ridden till the end/in iambic pentameter
(five beats per line-hoof beats till the line ends
as the Age of Horses ends,and the land is fenced
sufficient to prevent dust trails,stampedes and rustling..
For the Frontier may have been a Wild Place
Now just dust and fences /memories of herds and trails
long replaced by trucks and copters.Fail to see
history as poetry/when we make icons for movies
Make heroes of slim thin workers
Forget the glint of eye and silver buckle
on the belt of a genuine cowboy
is now a still photograph /a monument
immortalized in iambic rhymes..
Long Gone Times..