Ain't blue no-more..

November poetry number three...

                     Ain't blue no-more...

"Hey nonny no!

Men are fools that wish to die.

It not fine to dance and sing

when the bells of death do ring--- Unknown writer"

"Fair is love, and cruel as she's fair---Samuel Daniel"

Men who steal, borrow and run. They find their proper ending. The bar poet wrote to his notebook. She was a beauty, so kind and so sweet. He remembered when she scorned him with no words. Her eyes of sorrow and disappointment made him bleed inside and out. Words were not needed said.

Now he had the deep and hard jazz, quiet nights and he is the seeker of the sea, the silence. He befriended the Johnnie Walker whiskey and he wishes for ghostly kisses and a kind memory.

But the bar poet had learn. What is done, is done. Leave the cold and hard memories to rest. Now he is surrounded by the living dead. Men and women not seeking love anymore. He told the three fingers of tequila, leave the sweet gals alone. Allow them to seek a lover who is kind and gentle. Not greedy men, like him.

The jazz is good, the drink is strong and I ain't blue no-more.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading and the comment.

Reviews

[Aaron Jinks]

That's some good stuff Coyote! I loved the idea of the bar poet. I just imagined this wise older man watching people do foolish things or acting on emotion and just observing and writing, sipping on some whisky. And the poem gives off this feel that he was once the people he is watching.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Aaron for reading and the comment. I was the bar poet for 40 years. I am the grandpa now.

[Lathen Griffiths]

Wonderful imagery, I was sat on a bar stool with a shot a tequila for a while there, thank you Coyote.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Lathen for reading and the comment. Maybe I will join you.

[albee]

you captured a snap shot of a demographic, men who rode the turmoil of sexual revolution with fingers on the tequila and its worm, waking old, sad, and negotiating with bitterness, the illusion of intimacy, and love of self...

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right my friend. Easy road to get on and very hard to leave. Thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[Ken Simm.]

Your love memories are always so layered and rich John. I particualarly enjoyed this jazzt, late night bar one.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Ken. I love the jazz also.

[lightsong]

I will always love how your pieces feels so personal, how You can dive into the psyche of a man and write in a simple yet profound way.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my friend for the kind words. We write from what we know. I appreciate the comment.

[R E Tree]

Bells of death do ring! I love that line. It’s a very certain approach. A strong start to this poem. A good choice of words. Seeker of the sea is a pleasant one. A delight to read. I can sense a confident writer behind this written piece.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading and the comment. I appreciate the comment. The more we write. The better we shall be.

[Sami Khalil]

I love your writings because of their utmost honesty and tremendous wisdom. I think you have inherited a wealth of that from your wonderful community, history and parents. I feel the poet is setting the record straight in the matters of life and his past stories.

[Coyote Poetry]

Hello Sami. Us, who love to write. We want to write the truth. Thank you my friend for reading and the comment.

[Sami Khalil]

Yes siiiirrrr. You are welcome.

[John the Baptist]

Has the sound of repentance and lessons learned about it. Often when men are young they are looking for but one thing in a relationship, and sometimes from more than one source. The speaker here is recalling someone he hurt in the past, knowing it does no good to brood on the long ago. He is a better man now, but sometimes the scotch and jazz summon memories. If you live and pay attention, you learn.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree my friend and thank you for reading and the comment.

[Pryde Foltz]

Men who steal, borrow and run. They find their proper ending. The bar poet wrote to his notebook. She was a beauty, so kind and so sweet. He remembered when she scorned him with no words. Her eyes of sorrow and disappointment made him bleed inside and out. Words were not needed said.

The pen is mightier but only when it serves the truth and love. Superb, Coyote:)

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Pryde. I have been reading your books. They are amazing dear friend.