Tumbleweed Rumble

Daily poetry

The searing heat of the high noon sun rains its rays, cooking the ground.
The residents flee – from a more dangerous foe.
Rambunctious road pirates sow chaos,
firing their guns, littering my town with casings and broken bottles.
Threatening my neighbors and stealing their hard-earned gold,
their filthy hands sullying wives.

The sheriff has to lay the law on this mess.
“Hey punks!
This is my town, and my buddy Jack Henry going to remind you ugly bastards of your manners.”
A rack of a shell echoes the silenced town.

A cacophony of explosions and gunpowder,
lead screeching the roads and pelting flesh and wall,
painting the town red.

Obnoxious fumes of gun smoke and iron, and a farm for the grim reaper – a haunting reminder for aspiring lawbreakers.

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