Seated at the table
With a bourbon by his side
The roughly shaven cowhand
Felt the other players lied
One man across was smiling
Raking chips in from the pot
Another scooped the cards away
And also smiled a lot
The cowhand sensed they’d cheated
Having played him for a mug
He wasn’t sure just how it worked
All three sat looking smug
Around them people gathered
One player laid a double
Our cowhand laid the same but three
The crowd knew that meant trouble
Three player’s smiles now faded
The cowhand stood and spoke
But his six-gun did the talking
Leaving three white wisps of smoke
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
Why does Paul Newman come to mind.. cool hand Luke or something :) This was like a movie - you are so good David, this is your thang :)
You can write a full story with so few words. I could see this in my mind, You are an amazing writer I think I can learn a lot from you just by reading your poems
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well Sir David, I finally was able to waddle my fat self to the computer and take a chance at reading antoher one of your poems. Thank God it wasn't about food. It did have some liquid refreshment mentioned, but not my style of beverage. I can relate to this one. We shoot here on this farm. Have shooting ranges, seventeen of them. I am a FAT pistol packin Ma, Ma! LOL 10/10/10!