Walking Tall

Swaggering into the bar with a gleam in her eye,
All heads turn towards her, she could make a grown man cry.

She's walking tall, her guns slung low across her hips,
Twin six shooters, with mother of pearl on the grips.

Her long hair streaming a golden burnished red,
A notch on her belt for every man she shot dead.

Fending for herself, since such an early age,
Barely able to contain her seething rage.

Such anger in her eyes, burning souls to the ground,
Willing to fight them all, knowing she is hell bound.

Many guns have cleared leather, just a second too late,
Her quick reflexes have helped many to meet their fate.

So many men have died, thinking that they couldn't be beat,
Don't underestimate her if you meet her in the street.

Poetry by Queen
Read 730 times
Written on 2005-08-13 at 04:34

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F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
what an invigorating write.. i like this very much... the no non-sense attitude and the tossing aside of unwanted characters and mentalities... thats how i read this... we do have it in us to not accept certain things... whatever they may be... to each their personal reasons... but yeah, get out of the way 'cause i wont let you waste my time anymore type of deal... i feel so inarticulate at times lol sorry... hope this made some sense ;) excellent poem... i love the energy in it... love the way you wrote it... i enjoyed this very much... thanks for sharing :)


Commentally Ill
calamity jane strikes again!

chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
yeharrrrrr lol the cowgal is mean, she's a walking killing machine, don't call her princess, you betta call her the Queen. :D