Cowboys and Indians
By luigi_pagano
- 729 reads
“Bang-bang, you're dead!”,
shouts my cousin Fred,
as he runs from the shed
with a frenzied dash.
There is an almighty crash
and we very nearly clash.
I'm a red Indian, he's a cowboy.
He waves his latest toy
as if it were the real McCoy.
“I win!”, he says with a roar,
a statement I can't ignore,
as I draw my last gasp on the floor.
© Luigi Pagano 2022
Inspiration Point: incorporate five or more sounds in your writing
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Comments
Ride 'em cowboy! Yee haw!
Ride 'em cowboy! Yee haw!
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Great poem Luigi, reminds me
Great poem Luigi, reminds me of my younger tom boy days when we used to play cowboys and indians, using crates as wagons around the back of Woolworths in our village. I always opted to be an indian with a bow and arrow, even then having a crush on Tonto, the Lone Ranger's partner.
Enjoyed and thanks for the memory jerker.
Jenny. xx
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This brought to mind, one
This brought to mind, one night when I was sleeping in the next room to my father-in-law due to his dementia, with and intercom, and I was woken by some distressing screams. I rushed in, and he looked astonished when I asked what was the matter. Then he realised and. looking sheepish, said he'd been dreaming about playing 'cowboys and indians' with his friends when young, and I think he was being, or threatened to be, scalped! Rhiannon
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