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The Longest Day

The Longest Day by RW

Ah've withstood tornadoes
turned around breeched calves
run herds of spooked buffalo
sold crops for less than halves
-------
I've fought a man 350
I've wrassled unbroken studs
I caught a ball at Ol' Wrigley
I drank a truck o' suds
---------
I whooped a mountain lion once
and poisoned a diamondback
I carried home a thousand hunts
I ate raw razorback
----------
yee'd think these things were tiresome
and the suns' shadows would cast long
but those by far weren't the the hardest come
that sang the most weary song
-----------
Mary Sue, that girl o' mine, came into town unknown
and Rita Lou, the tavern girl, liked me alot she'd say
and when they met up face to face
I had by far my longest day

end

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This was a jokey little poem I influenced by Robert E. Howard's The Gent from Bear Creek. It's not an intellectual poem, more of a fun jaunt. I hope you like it. Ron Blue Demon77
Editing stage: 

Comments

Mary Sue, that girl o' mine, came into town unknown
and Rita Lou, the tavern girl, liked me alot she'd say
and when they met up face to face
I had by far my longest day

Funny indeed when it comes to women jealousy , men shall sure suffer .

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Please follow me on Instagram
https://instagram.com/poetry.jo?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

I felt sorry for the poor guy as I wrote him, standing there looking sheepish, both hands in his pockets and the tiny index finger wagging in his face.....hehe, better him than me.

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

I'm not sure if this is the type of poem that will help me gain respect in NEO or not but it sure was a blast to write. Thanks so much for your kind words.

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

When you play you pay I guess....................stan

Funny how the play is never quite worth the pay....hehe

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

makes one yearn for more
such lovely gals
vying for you
and in the summer heat to stay cool
they floor you
and
take away your stool
and devour upon each other
to stay equally cool

loved

Very true loved, I've encounted only verbal and looky-loo infractions up to this point in my life and I paaaaaaiiiiid for them dearly. The price is not worth the outcome. Well written reply by the way!

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

wellness and kindness
admiration too....
hungry whiner they
all call me
will ye??

loved

I shall not call you a whiner or otherwise put you down. I may critique you work and say things that may upset you, but it's only to give my opinion as to what would make the piece more effective. I get a sore ass from some of my poem babies worked over but I'll tell you, before I knew what h talent existed here and how much activity there is for growth as a poet, I came because I kept getting "good poem", "that's a really good one" or "I always enjoy your work" as criticisms. It wasn't helping me grow as a poet. Then I started writing the hardest forms I could (still working on Villanelle, Paradelle, and Sestina). I'm here because I'm serious about poetry. I love it and think it is important. I would never knowingly disrespect you or discourage you from following your poetic journey along side me. I respect you. If I'm ever a jerk to you, call me on it, because I guarantee it will be because I have my focus elsewhere and use unfortunate language rather than what I meant. You aren't a whiner, you are a shiner. I also consider you a friend on Neo. Speak your mind always with me. You teach me. Feel your heartbeat and recognize that is meter, as is your breath. You have much to offer, don't let a couple prickly or distracted indivial EVER make you question yourself. Each and every one of us is emotionally naked when we put our work out there, so don't feel alone. Keep an eye on the poetry and you'll find friends walking your path on here. I'm one of them.

It hurts me that you wondered if I looked at you in a degraded fashion. I want to build up and help fellow poets, not destroy them before they find their voices. I seek nobility through art. Living my beliefs. I've got no place for value judgements and wounding with a sharp tongue. It's all ok, loved, you know you are needed here.

Ron

Blue Demon77

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

777777777777777777777777777777777777
whom I admire
I ain't afraid of fire,
as it heats an iron
to enable it to strike once cold

you are that diamond
which shines through many skies
and
hearts with marigold
you are that poet that thou actually art..

I grace your warmth
through the miracles of the Internet,
since you have arrived
I now don't feel bereft.
Thou art!

loved

Neopoet respects all that arrive here and the ones that stay, a strange place here where many wander..
That you take the time to walk with us in any form is to me good enough.
Your quirky piece made a few smile and that is good, keep writing and a big Welcome to Neopoet, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I appreciate the comment and the welcome. This was a very atypical poem for me. Not in the sense of it being narrative, but in the "rural-ness" of it. It was written in its first form in an improv chat as I fondly recalled the prose narrative of Robert E. Howard's The Gent from Bear Creek. I'll admit that the revision as been minimal. I consider my main drawback as a writer is that I sometimes come at people from a head level instead of a heart level. This poem was very much a relief that didn't share the aforementioned malady.

Thanks again for the welcome!

Ron

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

I will admit
Made me laugh 'till I had a fit
There is no trouble like a woman scorned
Unless it is one that shouldn't have been horned

~ Gee

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
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