Visit the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering

Visit the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering Well, is not it? T want to miss it? The National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada. In this year begins tomorrow (Friday, 3 February 2006 and ending on Sunday, 5 February 2005). At least I think it is when it starts and ends. Not our newspaper? T bothered to give the dates. If this sounds familiar? S weekend.You on this possible? T Elko, from where you live. You can go or call the Chamber at 775-738-7135 if you want to give it a try. Here is a number that is free Information: 800-248-3556.There are many things to do in the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. They have a cost, but my joual says that children are free? No ticket? Day events. This is talk Idaho. I think it means. Children don? T must pay for the free day events. Duh! So, what can you do? They play, eat and listen to cowboy music. In this way, he won? T to have the monotony of reading cowboy poetry for the fertilizer, bobbed wire, Mesas and lonely. (Mesa mean? Table In Spanish. A piece of flat land that we are up to as a mesa? Ya can say that when Critter Thar up? On the mesa? I think, you know, that could Critter a horse or a cow.I some of my poems in that business, if I live in Payson, Arizona. There were about a zillion people are wondering around the park, eating grilled Bratwurst and wash with cola drinks. I think it would be ten o'clock hear my poetry. My wife is one of them so that about nine.So you see why no one heard me, and why only some of the poker table in Elko, here is one of my poems, I read in the Park in Payson, Arizona: The Banker of the Son (Monday, 29 March 1999) has spurred his horse, the son of the banker,   His father died on this day   If the bank robbed his father was shot   And the horses horse thieves were away.The Lightnin 'fast,   With the fund, they were full.   Ugly Jo looked back and said:   Take bunglin "Spurred fools.They their horses all the more   Leavin 'son of the banker in the dust,   But then stopped for the remaining shares,   This is the fun, when the son of banker began.The horse and did he say?   Were Drinkin 'whiskey then?   Put your weapons, it's goin 'to hang   When I retued to Charlie town.Fat rise,   A banker's son is Goin 'on us?   He has his Colt,   The rich boy killed   He is Fat Charlie in.Slim Willy said,   You du das?   The child seems pretty good,   But Fat Charlie has been slow, Banker Boy,   I do not try that again.You killed my pa, you dirty crew.   They shot and died.   Slim said Willy Twas Charlie, son,   And then he poured lead.The Banker's Kid rolled in dirt,   But then he came up to Shootin '.   Slim Willy fell and ate some injured,   The banker was the son of swellin '. Pock-Pete looked at the two dead oafs, and said:   This was about Shootin '.   But Charlie and Willy were not all so fast   To prove I'm a Willin '. Banker's Boy skewer into the soil,   The only ball.   I'm goin 'to go back, he said,   And you are obliged to fall.So Pete said: Ok, we comin 'in   For the court to decide   But instead of six-gun,   The boy fired twice, Pete landed on his side.The guy blew smoke   From his weapon? S Fass,   There were two more there to kill.   Ugly One was Joe, the other Bill.Bill Angry words, you little runt,   The Gettin 'Mad in hell,   It's not that bad blow bruits,   My pockets, which fill   But I do not cowin 'down.   You're goin 'down to hell.The couple said that they do not lea quickly,   You Angry Bill?   He tued and,   Not just once but twice,   Bill rolled hill.Ugly Joe watched men   All layin 'on the ground.   He said: My God! This was about Shootin '!   You are the fastest gun around.Now my son before he died,   How did you lea to shoot.   I saw you tellerin "in the bank,   For the gun had not roots.The boy looked down,   And these words, he said,   My father was exactly like you.   E 'andato in jail   And paid the price   And he taught me how shoot.Ugly Joe joined a rock and said:   What was his name, my son?   The boy said, the Sierra Kid,   Ugly Joe has his weapon,   And   Dead. The boy left parties   Never again to see   Do not fall prey to all,   Just these five deaths men.Well, now you know why I? Ve decided not to go to Elko tomorrow. (What you want to read my other poems? Well, if you like the pain, go to my website.) EndJohn The T. Jones, Ph.D. (tjbooks@hotmail.com, a retired VP of R & D for Lenox China, is author of detective novels and West, Women's Clothing (economy, science, engineering, humor), poetry, etc. former editor of ceramics magazine. He calls himself "Taylor Jones, the hack writer." For more information: Website: