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Click herea dusty stetson coverd raven tresses
while shadowing her eyes against the sun
and strapped around her thigh a silver gun
it’s bullets born from Goethe’s Love’s Distresses
she stroked her weapon lovingly and slow
remembering how it had brought her here
experience dissolved from her all fear
while Auden’s blues brought power to her flow
her leathered feathers put on quite the show
distracting him the closer she drew near
he shivered as he watched the cowgirl draw
she challenged everything he ought to know
and shot at him with structure so severe
alliteration, addled him to awe
syllables confused him with their stresses
until his voice drew silent and undone
knowing he was beat before he’d won
he wondered at the sting of her successes
The moral of this story is the law
this cowgirl writes the poems, and you withdraw
I don't know why you doubt your effort- I think this is great! Thanks, Perky!
....three or four times trying to get the meter to fit the form but just can't. It doesn't really matter unless one is a stickler for correctness (surprisingly this tree-hugger isn't) because it is a great read.