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..
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