Gun Fighter Poem by Jon M. Nelson

My legs are sore since I had to straddle,
All day long sitting in the saddle.
It seems like such an endless ride,
With a loaded pistol at my side.

I’ve been riding all day in this desert heat,
And I knew my horse was dead on his feet.
I was approaching this very small town,
And needed a bed before the sun went down.

I asked the barkeep for some water and bread,
And for a place that I could rest my head.
He gave me a look as if he’d seen me before,
But I didn’t want trouble and walked out the door.

I found a place where I could get some rest,
Even though I felt like an unwelcomed guest.
The following morning I’d be on my way,
I don’t like to stay for more than a day.

Before riding out I’d grab a bite to eat,
But a man was calling for me on the street.
I guess news had spread that I was here,
And now I didn’t have time to disappear.

This was not the life that I chose,
But my reputation has brought many foes.
Everyone wants to challenge the best,
And I’m the deadliest man in the west.

Some say that I have the fastest draw,
And it’s agreed by everyone who has saw.
If you match that with my accurate aim,
I can see why they would make that claim.

Everywhere I go there’s a price on my head,
I’m wanted alive, but preferably dead.
Someone’s always trying to collect the reward,
Because my reputation cannot be ignored.

All of my fights were in self-defense,
But everyone thinks that is nonsense.
I never drew first but had the quickest hand,
And all challengers fall dead where they stand.

I know that I can never live in peace,
Because this violence will never cease.
One more challenger stands in my way,
Much to my surprise and dismay.

He was staring me down in his stance,
Just waiting for the perfect chance.
He was ready with his hand by his hip,
And his fingers touching the pistol grip.

One shot rang out for the town to hear,
And one was standing when the smoke cleared.
I was tired of living my life on the run,
So this time I didn’t reach for my gun.