Belle Starr: Outlaw looking for love

Belle Starr1

Cole Younger and Belle fell under a spell

that lasted many a day.

He was on the run for things he had done

so they shacked up in a cabin to play.

Soon time was at hand, he rejoined the band,

leaving Belle who started to show.

Soon out popped a girl, who she named Pearl,

and it’s still thought her father was Cole.

The next man to feed, a man named Jim Reed,

a robber just like the last.

The pair up and looted, then quickly scooted,

only to find they spent it too fast.

But Reed’s luck was raw, and he was slow on the draw,

and so he bit the dust.

Yet it was soon found that a new beau was around,

Blue Duck now gave Belle his trust.

Their new gang would hustle the livestock they rustle,

and some would actually say these two did care.

It was proven when Blue Duck ran out of luck

and Belle did more than her share.

He was sentenced to die; the old “hang ‘um high,”

but Belle kept the legal fight going.

There would be no noose; he was eventually cut loose,

but for Belle there would be no knowing.

Not one to tarry, Belle would soon marry

her aka namesake Sam Starr.

But their wheelin’ and dealin’ got them six-months for stealin’,

and their romance was now from afar.

When they left jail behind, right back to the grind,

they always sought a dishonest dollar.

But Sam would soon fall, killed in a brawl,

and Belle found another man to collar.

His name was Jim July, another on the sly,

it was obvious Belle had the itch.

She packed her own gun, joined in on the fun:

today they’d just call her a “bitch.”

But a life of crime dunks a soul in slime,

and there’s always victims who hurt.

So when one is despised, don’t be surprised,

like Belle… to be shot and left in the dirt.

© JW Thomas



Compatibility of the Sexes



When a good girl and a bad boy get betrothed,

he glimpses heaven while she catches hell,

their sex life is fast, furious, sporadic, and fleeting,

and the only heavenly treatment she’ll ever get

is during recuperation from her injuries in Saint something-or-other Hospital.

When a bad girl and a good boy get hitched

it is heaven up front but hell in the end

when he finds out the “good” sex was only her way

of gaining financial security through divorce of another love-struck fool.

When a bad boy and bad girl get together

their marriage is hell on Earth… but

with a sex life so heavenly satisfying

it must inevitably damn them for eternity.

When a good boy and good girl join as one

their marriage is the perfect union, heaven on Earth

with a sex life so hellishly boring

it can actually earn them sainthood…

unless, of course, they pretend to be bad in the bedroom.



© JW Thomas

Trust from Distrust

sad woman1


building trust

out of the ruins

from the walls of distrust

her history

pain, shame, betrayals

emotion-filled quarry

stolen innocence

a thousand slashes upon her soul

older kin, once thought to be a prince

brick and mortar

hiding tears, embracing chaos

dwelling in darkness with its false sense of order

kids bearing kids

societal tricks, better learn quick

construct the walls, lock the lids

each new love lost

taking chance on romance

but built on distrust; oh, what a high cost

walls grow thicker

settles for joyless marriages

walls now symbols of “no love” sticker

till new love arrives

soul-mate man with heart in hand

says, “tear down walls and love survives”

she takes a chance

willing to bare all

still blocks out the world

but naked to her love

supported by his strength

she learns to stand tall

couple 1

© JW Thomas

Endless Shore

A Broad Sky


Wandering white wisps

meander above

Horizon due west

Line unbroken

between peripheries

Sea of mysteries

cloaked in harmony

with gravity

Playing it cool:


Blue, gray, green –


emotional hues,

thoughts and dreams

Transition peaceful

gentle lapping sounds


parade of pups


Lap, lap, lap:


salty foam,

sand, shells, and pebbles

To shore

for sure

they return once more

Circle of life

A solitary witness


Loves me, loves me not

No one to see

if she chose not to be

cloaked in black wool

strolling towards the sea

(*note: inspired by photographic image from Carrie Mae Weems entitled “A broad an Expansive Sky – Ancient Rome from Roaming, 2006)


© JW Thomas

The Empty Room


I’m standing in the doorway

to the empty room,

viewing what remains,

hardly anything at all.

There’s a vase on the mantel

just above the fireplace,

and a set of velvet curtains

left hanging on the wall.

It seems so empty now,

compared to how it use to be.

Though appearance is deceiving,

it’s full of memories.

If these old walls could talk

I think of what they’d say

of all that has transpired

since we moved in that day.

An empty room is never empty,

it always has something inside.

It’s sometimes hard to see

in the times when it can hide.

The furniture is gone,

and walls are standing bare.

Yet eyes opened or closed,

I still see something there.

Like that old threshold

I carried you through,

to start a brand new life

that lasted many years.

There’s the window pane

that pains me to see it now.

‘Cause you stood there staring

when you couldn’t hold the tears.

There’s the winding banister

that we’d both slide down.

I’d catch you in my arms,

and we’d pause to embrace.

Nope… this room isn’t empty,

and it’ll never be,

for everywhere I turn

I still can see your face.

I turn to see you leaving

out the door that brought you in.

Heading down the walkway,

walking hand-in-hand with him.

I smelled your sweet perfume

when you slowly passed me by.

Did you feel me too,

for once again you start to cry?

Sadly, my time is up,

‘cause I know you’ll be alright.

You started life anew,

time has healed you from that night.

The night Toby told you

I was lost and could not be found.

Somewhere by the fallen bridge,

they say I must’ve drowned.

© JW Thomas

Sky Father and Earth Mother

Christ earth

Every opportunity should

be taken to eavesdrop

on interactions between

Sky Father and Earth Mother

Love of Creator for

Creation is infinite

Love of Creation for

Creator is reverent

Like a husband lightly

blowing a caressing

wind along the

supple curves of

his newlywed wife

Sky Father awakens

Mother Earth with

the gentle kiss of breath

Barely perceptible

at times;

nary a flutter of leaf


blade of grass

Alas, sense of arousal

simple and sensual

Does Mother Earth

get goose-pimples?

Unimportant –

arousal is certain

Morning dew is evident

lightly spent

Morning Glory

Observation is key

between finite



Interactions never cease

Spirit Father

one with Mother Nature

sweet release

Daily quest to please

Lunar gravity

push and pull action

Day-Night rotation

emotional delight

Annual orbit

sun-kissed solar fare


beyond compare

to lowly man-

kind and kindred

History ever so brief

and grief through greed

with scars to Earth Mother

She bore humans

woman and man

nurtured and nourished

She’s repaid with pain


misuse and abuse

Sky Father is torn

Pure passion for

planetary paramour

constant need to please

Yet pride in man

deserving discipline

more often than praise

So I spy

on the glories

of Earth and Sky

Childlike observance

of parental paragons

To learn of love

through the whispering wind

and thunderous roar,

through volcanic eruptions

and wave-licked beaches,

through rain-soaked forests

and shifting desert dunes,

through alpine silence

and climatic glacial moans,

and twisters and blusters

and hurricane gales,

tsunamis and rogue-waves

and cavernous wails…

and groans

A peace beyond understanding

Harmony beyond recognition

Marred by human interaction

And yet –

we are their offspring,

the culmination of their love,

with the capacity

to love in return

Sky Father –

teach me to love

my family

as You love yours

Earth Mother –

teach me to nurture

the next generation

from season-to-season

as you do

mother earth1

© JW Thomas

Sensory Overload

native female1

When she smiled in my direction…

I was flooded with visions of grandeur

that would make the Seven Wonders weep.

I was flooded with the sweet sounds of soulful symphonies

accompanied by the caw, coo, and shrill born on the wind

with Raven, Turtle-dove, and Whippoorwill.

I was flooded with an odoriferous emanation

so intoxicating and sensual I was sure Chanel

concocted a signature scent for her and her alone,

at least 180-proof.

I was flooded with salivating flavors so exquisite and exotic

that the sensory pleasure to palette could only be compared

to the royal feasts of ancient empires.

I was flooded with a sea of sensations,

like the caress of newborn skin,

the wind-swept kiss of angel’s wings,

and the orgasmic release of all species

that bond with life-long soul-mates.

But Sixth-Sense shouted, “It’s too good to be true!”

And when she tickled the tonsils of Beaver Sue,

I knew he spoke the truth.

© JW Thomas