Biographical Poetry posted February 28, 2024


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A poem about when I lived along the Rio Grande River

Spooky Wild-eyed Land

by Robert Reischl


The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
Watching the assassin that lays-in-wait, then SURPRISE! It is too late. 
I watched it dart and dart, but it was doomed from the start in that spooky wild-eyed land along the Rio Grande,
and as everything from the thorny ocotillo to the prickly cactus hopes to stab and cause you to bleed in that pitiless land along the Rio Grande. 
When I told her I loved eyes in that untrusting land along the Rio Grande, and then she said. 
OH, I bet you say that to all the women, she was right. 
She was right not trust in that untrusting land along the Rio Grande where everything wants to kill you. Trust me. 
She was right in that spooky wild-eyed land along the Rio Grande where the Sun beats down and withers. 
It withers all in that arid land that's hot as Hell, and the cleanup crew has blood-red heads and feathers dark as evil itself. 
They circle and swoop down out the sky to dance and prance, joyously, and peck and peck from every direction. 
Hoping to hurry up and hasten the poor unfortunate's demise in that spooky wild-eyed land along the Rio Grande. 
In that hostile 'hope you make it out alive' land where only ambushers and scavengers thrive and survive in that spooky wild-eyed land. 
In the summer of 1989 when a sniper was shooting at rafters in Santa Elena Canyon, and Texans being Texans. 
They took it as a challenge to go down river ready to return fire in that land along the Rio Grande where everything wants to kill you, trust me. 
In that land where the cleanup crew with blood-red heads and feathers dark as evil itself, they dance and prance and peck and peck from every direction. 
Hoping to hurry-up and hasten the poor unfortunate taking its last breathe, before they feast where everything wants to kill you. 
The hot beating Sun wants to kill you, and the thorny ocotillo and prickly cactus want to stab you and cause you to bleed in that pitiless land along the Rio Grande. 
As I watched that slithering assassin who laid-in-wait, then SURPRISE! It was too late. 
And the cleanup crew with blood-red heads and feathers dark as evil itself,
When they swooped down out the sky to hurry up, they wanted to hurry up poor unfortunate assassin who slithered and laid-in-wait. 
Then SURPRISE! It was too late in that pitiless land along the Rio Grande where everything wants to kill you. Trust me. 
After... "OH I bet you say that to all the women" and she was right, SHE WAS RIGHT! 
When Ringo sang he didn't ask for much, he only wanted trust, and you know it don't come easy. 
Ringo was singing about that spooky wild-eyed land along the Rio Grande, trust me. 
 
 



Free Form Poetry Contest contest entry


I live, currently, in the upper Midwest in the United States and this poem is about when I lived down on the border along the Rio Grande River.
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© Copyright 2024. Robert Reischl All rights reserved.
Robert Reischl has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.