Ancient floors

                  

   



Ancient floors

In the mirrors of time.
Old windows may never be closed.

Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.
The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of kind and beautiful faces.

Faces who words are tattoos on my mind and heart.
Easy to languish in stagnant thoughts when peace is cold beer, lust and waiting for mercy.

No mercy for men who played the b*****d too damn well.
Men who live with graveyard poetry.
That lead to no-where but to dirt and dust.
Their words become more worthless with time.
No sweet lullaby can save them.

Vintage memories of sweet whispers leave a morbid reminder.
Of broken roads and promises.
Old man sit on the solitude of the sand.
Watching the sea.

Knowing no forgiveness or charity for a man who left a blood trail of kind and loving people.
The bells are ringing in the distance.
They are ringing the bells to announce. There is forgiveness even for the men drowning
in sin and his own greed.

I try to escape the song of bells.
Run to the hills where I can find silence and calm.
Fall into the field of lilies and violets.
I'm weary from a journey with no ending.

I look to the sky.
Asked the Goddess of the Earth.
To show me the place I need to be.

Tire and mad as hell.
I walk ancient floors.
Trying to find the place I turn berserker to love and kindness.

I go toward the ringing bells.
I walk to the statue in the center of the church court.
A man reaching to a child.
The words read. " No greater gift than reaching down to a child and giving them hope and strength."

It is a beautiful day today.
The sun is shining.
I can smell the coffee in the distance.
The old street Poet will drink coffee and write a lullaby about a man who wasted all things.

He awoke alone to find out. No person want to die alone.
Come a time.
When you cannot run any more.

A man must learn to cherish friendship and love. A man who served self only: booze and woman:
War and government  will be forgotten and leave nothing but a lonely grave.

                                    Coyote
                                 2012

Author's Note

Finally a new poem. I hope you enjoy.

Reviews

[Baby Ricochet]

Why did I read this? Down in the right hand corner where the WC posts "related writing" on the page that has my poem "Jail Bait" this piece pops up along with three others that I wrote. How this poem is related to "Jail Bait" I have no clue but I'm glad it is cause I might have missed Ancient Floors. Out f*****g standing work Coyote!

[Celestial Witch Child]

Wow. I am in love with this.

[Alistair (Ali)]

These are fine, fine songs you sing!

The hardest peace to find, is the peace within ourselves.

Well thought, well written and beautifully dispatched.
Thank you.
Ali

[Gomer LePoet]

Bravo Coyote! The street poet strikes again. No man wants to die alone, and there is no reason that should ever be, for in our every journey, from the trip to the local store, to the back of the church, to the mountain where we speak to our own private gods, there are faces, memories, stories of the people we have touched, the ones who have touched us. So, we never die alone, we take all of these memories with us, and hopefully we are in the memories of others along the way. :)

[The Analog Kid]

Coyote,

First and foremost, I believe your writing and editing has taken quantum leaps in this piece:)

There is so much profound wisdom in this piece. You always cover these themes so well with style and grace.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Ah, my darling boy how you toy with us humble readers, that opening line grabs the attention of even the most stubborn of us, yes even me. "No mercy for men who played the b*****d too damn well.", this line struck a certain rage in me, not for you of course but for the meaning of it, played the b*****d, indeed most figures of trust and sometimes love have played it far to well. Altogher I've enjoyed this wal with you and as always you teach with subtle notes, well done, great read!

[Amber "Victoriomantic" ..]

This was a great piece. It tells of redemption, I believe. The line "No mercy for men who played the b*****d too damn well." really speaks to me. It reminds me of my father. Also, a lot of the time people don't act like themselves, and often find it difficult to repair their reputation after they have done so.

[Aditi Mahajan]

Wow! a great piece again! Nice portrayal of words of wisdom.

[Sagar Waingankar]

Kind words indulges the appearance of being sensitive. Nice way to do so with words that form a portrait you designed. Thanls for sharing! - Sagar

[quinfinn]

the scope of values and life intrinsic to this piece are positively screaming from the page...this is one of your best in recent times, i feel as if i have been walking in your shoes after reading this ...congrats, Coyote, on another masterpiece!