Oregon Trail – a poem by Christian CalhounChristian Calhoun
The starting point for the Oregon trail.
They bound ahead for six long months.
Plus they had to hurry.
They brought their lanterns, guns and ammo.
Flour, sugar and coffee.
These people were called the pioneers.
They planned to make money.
They headed in the direction of Oregon.
The great state of rich soil.
California had its Gold Rush and Utah had visitors.
Lands free of toil.
Some Godly people, others not so much.
Missionaries came too.
The first pioneer lady, her name is Nacrissa Whiteman.
She made it through.
Indians were sometimes friendly, in the beginning.
But a single cow started a war.
And sickness made its way to the Indian camps,
As pioneers came galore.
People sometimes got poisoning, cholera, or the pox.
Many people died.
And just when things were getting good.
The sight of mountains made them sigh.
Still after the rough and toil, sickness and death.
They finally made it to the land of Rest.
They planted their cornfields, and their wheat.
They knew they had chosen the best.
They prospered and lived on to tell many stories.
Of the Oregon Trail.
And though we might never have their experience.
We can still listen to their tales.
~by Christian Calhoun