by R.W. Rhodes
after the war poem of Wilfred Owen
In Texas we still prize our purebred cattle
while monstrous Leftists plot to take our guns.
For us a rifle's like a baby's rattle,
with cartridges we measure out in tons.
Our cemeteries are such peaceful places.
And there are countless young in other schools,
so we can just forget these names and faces.
Let none restrict our guns by stricter rules.
We'll light more candles and repeat more prayers,
and freely arm more boys, and one and all.
A maniac not armament's the slayer,
as on our kids we place a bloody pall.
The floral tributes in the heat turn rotten.
And by the dusk these dead will be forgotten.
R.W. Rhodes was a teacher for over 40 years before retirement. His classes ranged from global religions to death & dying. He published a series of hand-crafted books, many for children, with The Catbird-on-the-Yadkin Press in North Carolina.