Ghosts of Nevadaville, Colorado
Nevadaville, Colorado has numerous tales of those that lived and died along the Rocky Mountain frontier. As a young boy I was fascinated by such tales of gold camps, ghost towns, Ute Indians, outlaws, miners, marshals, gamblers, and soiled doves that made those stories come alive to me. Even as a young boy I wanted to walk the trails, explore the mountains of those that walked these mountains of old before me.
Nevadaville, Colorado is one ghost town that I have spent plenty of time exploring since it was roughly 45 minutes from my boyhood home. Even to this day when I visit that lonely town on Bald Mountain I still feel the chills of the ghost’s that still reside there. Come with me – let’s take a stroll.
“Nevadaville”
Nevadaville Colorado, empty buildings, silent streets,
Death knell that rang out in this town, now complete.
As I walk the boardwalk’s of Nevadaville today,
I feel ghostly eyes of yesteryear follow me from faded doorways.
When I close my eyes I can hear the sounds of so long ago,
Sounds of horses, spectral voices, mixed in with a distant banjo.
Stale whiskey, horse manure, sweat, and outhouse’s still in use,
All these phantom scents in this town are still on the loose.
I stop and wonder of the lives that had lived here,
Of folks long gone, dead and buried –which brings a tear.
Memories of those erased by the wind and the dust,
Hopes, dreams, a silent death, when the gold went bust.
Graves on Bald mountain, cemetery tombstones due west,
Those unfortunate souls who died giving it their best.
Now years later, nature tries to claim its right, its own,
Buildings, boardwalks degrade into the unknown.
Kurt James
Kurt James © 2017
Where to buy Kurt James novels and books:
https://www.amazon.com/Kurt-James/e/B01DTOJ7KC/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1504228230&sr=1-2-ent
The Denver Post, PM Magazine, and 9NEWS, all well-known Denver, Colorado media sources, have highlighted the powerful and evocative work of poet and novelist Kurt James. Focusing on Old West history, Kurt contributes feature articles to HubPages and Creative Exiles, exploring the eerie silence of ghost towns, the thrilling tales of outlaws and gunfighters, and the evocative imagery found in the Rocky Mountains.
Kurt’s early admiration for writers such as Jack London, Louis L’Amour, and Max Brand played a significant role in honing his skills as a storyteller. Twenty-one books (and counting!) transport readers to the Colorado Rockies and the Old West through Kurt’s vivid descriptions; the feel of rough-hewn cabins, the sounds of coyotes howling under starry skies, and the smells of campfire smoke and sagebrush are all palpable.
Find Kurt James novels, short stories, reference books, and poetry—published by Midnight Wind Publishing—in print copies or digital downloads at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, and other excellent bookstores; explore the diverse range of formats available.
Currently in production - The 10th book in his Rocky Mountain Series - Lee Moomaw Former Lawman.
Kurt is a proud member of the Western Writers of America, a group that values storytelling.
- Riding the Timberline - May 26, 2025
- Digging up Dreams - September 16, 2024
- As the Years Roll By - November 15, 2023
Ghost towns have so much of the past still lingering when one opens up to it. Nevadaville sounds like a great place to get in touch with the distant past. Your poem is great, Kurt. Thanks for sharing this special place.
I think you are like me Phyllis and have the ability to see, feel, and touch things that are from the past – if that makes any sense. Thanks for stopping by.
Yes, it does make sense, Kurt, and you are right. I have had some amazing experiences that most people would not believe. http://www.creativeexiles.com/2016/12/little-mountain-girl-small-grave/
I read it and it was awesome piece Phyllis. One has to wonder – how many times our souls walk the earth? How many lives have we have lived? And does it ever truly end? Food for thought for the poet in us both.
And so we fade back into the dust from which we came. I love ghost towns for their eerie nature. It is an extremely sad state as well. All those smells, all the rot and decay of the structure, it all becomes this eerie little structure, and for some reason I find it intriguing. Nice work Kurt.
Thanks Paul – ghost town and ghost tales have always been a favorite of mine. Not sure what that says about me…lol….
I’ve walked often in cemetery’s day and night and felt an overwhelming calmness, peace and sometimes a yearning to be among the dead, as Paul has cited, from dust we came and dust we return. The dust I would refer to is Atom stardust, our shells go back to the ground, but I truly believe our spirit and soul goes back into the great Universe to continue on another journey, to add to the many past lives we’ve traveled on. I would love to be by your side walking such places, ghost towns. To feel what you feel as you walk on the hollowed ground and sense the spirits in your soul. History is amazing to me, we all become a part of it in as we make our journey on earth, leaving behind our mark, whether good or bad. The saints are pleased if we live a good and holy life, but our destiny is set before we take our first breath, the all knowing dictates the course we take and are given., Your expressive verse of Nevadville was uplifting in remembrance of those who lived there. Well done my friend, keep penning and matching it with your amazing eye for detail. That photo is beautiful, the colors the moon, the shadows, I love it.
Lasting dust and rot wraps, like tentacles around rust,
Nevadaville, it’s history and tenants reside there
as remnants from it’s historical past.
Bravo Kurt, your work and tales of ghost towns are always beautifully penned. Kudos.
You are more than welcomed to “walk by my side”. I would love to show you Vincent what I see, what I hear, and what is left not explained in the Rocky Mountains I call home. Some of what I see, hear, and feel in these lost mountain towns seems so real that it is difficult top stay focused on the now. Maybe I am different, because others I know that have walked beside me are oblivious to the remembrances of long ago.