Roy Rogers comic book cover‘The Old Westerns’ and Other Poetry by Linda Imbler The Society January 18, 2018 Beauty, Culture, Poetry The Old Westerns No more heroes on horses named Trigger No more rugged, chapped, white hatted figures The bad guys today do not always wear masks At least not the exact kind they did in the past. Though crime existed in those olden days In the end, the wicked were locked away Paladins were not treated with such disdain Nor with such peoples’ champion smear campaigns. Robbers rode over steel rails to make swipes Hijackers now fly steel birds and take lives Highwaymen robbed folks along dry dusty trails Ponzi takes fortunes through electronic mail. Robber barons dishonestly stole wealth Computer hackers do the same through stealth Telegraphs allowed graft across the flat land Now accomplished today with mobile broadband. Desert gangs of thieves hid gold in dark caves Turbaned hordes cross hot deserts to enslave Guns were drawn behind bat wing doors of saloons Guns drawn inside hallways of our children’s schools. Are we safer today? Sheltered from crime? Truly living in a more civil time? So, make fun of Roy and the Lone Ranger, too But heroes are fewer and that’s much to rue. The Heart’s Camera That second of time caught in an eyepiece As the camera’s shutter loudly snapped. The capturing of blissful calm and ease On young faces of those photographed. This image will stand as a testament To the history of good friends well met, To whom, to what, and to how it was then, Photostat narrative of this quartet. Their stout hearts worn on their sleeves that noon, Sleeves now faded with the passing of time. And so this photo keeps fading too, As each one arrives at the finish line. Linda Imbler is the author of the published poetry collection “Big Questions, Little Sleep.” Her work has appeared in numerous journals. Linda’s creative process and a current, complete listing of sites which have or will publish her work can be found atlindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. She is a classical guitar player living in Wichita, Kansas Related Post ‘I Journey On’ and Other Poetry by James A Tweed... a villanelle The sun descends into the silent sea. As shadows lengthen in the fading light I journey on to seek what yet may be. As death from l... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.