Ghost Town

Ghost Town short poem

Photo by Frank_am_Main

Standing in the among the ruins of what
Used to be a thriving little gold fever town
I swore I heard music and laughter coming
From the half-moon saloon, I walked around
But nobody could be found still I could of
Sworn I just saw a cowboy walk chasing
An Apache in a cloud of dust well I felt a
Chill run up and down my spine and it is a
Hot, hot day in August maybe it’s the heat
And the sun getting to me, I’d say that if
I just didn’t stumble up on crooked head
Man swinging from dead man’s tree…
Apparently they don’t call this a GHOST TOWN
For nothing, and they’re everywhere, one
Here and one there, voices of the dammed
Keep telling me you will not leave this town
I try to run for my life but they gather around
Me and pull me to the ground, now here I am
Confused as I go stumbling around this
Cursed town, this GHOST TOWN…
Whose blood do you have on your hands…?
You stare off into space with cold and evil dark
Does the gun in your hand make you a man…?
Now what cowboy, now that I’m roped and tied
Surrounded by your hell hounds in this devil desert
Apparently they call this a GHOST TOWN just because

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Bo Lanier

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Bo Lanier is from Chattanooga, Tennessee and has become an established poet with five books to his credit that were published in Canada. He received several achievement awards in creative writing through and has recently published two eBooks and one paperback book through After a nine year hiatus, Bo returned to publishing his poems with a new outlook and fresh ideas. His other talents include singing and songwriting.
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