Wanderer through Time

Wanderer through Time
I was one of the celebrated Sparta three hundred,
We fought against more than seven thousand it was said.
It was a glorious battle that we could never win,
I did not know this battle; this death is where it would all begin.
On this day one hundred fell dead beneath my shield and sword,
On the last day I lost my life to an arrow fighting the Persian horde.

I was one of hundreds in the legions as a roman centurion,
As I marched against the Gothic rebels and barbarians.
I fought that day for the Empire and my soldier brothers,
On this day at Adrianople I saw the death of my father and others.
By nightfall as the moon grazed the sky – I was tired and weak,
The barbarian lance pierced my body – falling – I could no longer speak.

I was one of many Highlanders – one of the bandits on the road,
After robbing and stealing from the nobles into the night I rode.
Many of the Duke’s and Earl’s lost their riches to my trade,
Countless King’s soldier’s shed their blood along my blade.
As they put the noose around my neck I knew – I would not die,
My neck snapped with the sudden drop, but death I did defy.

I was a sailor on the pirate ship named Royal Fortune,
My Captain was the infamous Black Bart to my misfortune.
He thought I was a coward for never a life did I ever take,
I was to be an example and my life would end in the ship’s wake.
My arms chained I was made to walk the wooden plank,
My life snuffed out in the cold water grave as my body sank.

I was a mountain man – in the Rockies my fortune was in fur,
The night of the wolf attack I fought the enormous cur.
With Bowie knife slashing and fighting like the animal I knew I was,
I stabbed him in the heart, but my throat was already within his jaws.
The wolf and I bleed out under the full moon in the silence of falling snow,
As darkness flooded over me – death would not take me – this I know.

I was a slave on the run to the north of Louisiana,
Captured on the road by Confederate troops out of Savannah.
They dragged my body with a twisted rope behind their horses,
Long before I ever got close to the northern Union forces.
To the nearest tree laughingly they hung me with the braided rope,
As death tried to take me – I could not die – once again I had hope.

I fought in World War II on the USS Arizona as a gunner and a shipmate,
Smoking a cigarette on the deck that December morning not knowing my fate.
The bomb wreckage had pinned me under the heavy shattered steel,
As the blood flowed from my wounded legs I could no longer feel.
On fire my ship slowly sank into the depths of Pearl Harbor and the sea,
As I drowned, I could not fathom they would build a memorial on top of me.

I was a bull rider that rode horned devils for the money and the fame,
On the bull named Takin’ Care of Business for 8 seconds I tried to tame.
My ride that night was as scary as it gets at the rodeo in Cheyenne Wyoming,
Takin’ Care of Business eyes were bloodshot and his nostrils were foaming.
He tossed me and beat me and stomped my body trying to break my spine,
The ultimate price I paid as I died that summer night in nineteen eighty-nine.

I am an author for the pen I hold is mightier than any sword,
I write about my lives past and present that I have known to explore.
On paper goes everything I have seen and the lives I have known,
Down through the centuries and the mysteries of time I have been shown.
At the end of this present life I may rest my spirit if I can,
Or maybe become a soldier, a pirate, a bull rider, or a bandit again.

Wanderer through Time

by
Kurt James

Kurt James © 2018

Where to purchase Kurt James novels and books: 

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Kurt James

The rugged beauty of the Colorado Rockies foothills shaped Kurt James’ life from birth, with the ever-present sight of snow-capped peaks and the constant whisper of the wind. Having spent twenty years amidst the wide-open spaces of South Dakota, Kurt’s connection to his family’s western Kansas heritage remains strong; he recalls the tallgrass prairie and the endless blue skies. Over time, Mr. James developed a deep appreciation for the landscapes and history of the American West,spending countless hours exploring its rugged beauty and studying its unique culture.

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.

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Latest posts by Kurt James (see all)

• Riding the Timberline - May 26, 2025
• Digging up Dreams - September 16, 2024
• As the Years Roll By - November 15, 2023