SOS... Some mini-poetry.

June poetry number nineteen.

SOS..

1- When a poet cries, he cried alone. He write his tears to paper and allow them to be settle into a journal. Sometime madness can find us and we forget to scream a SOS. Did Hemingway tell anyone. I am done? What was Phil Ochs last thoughts?

2- Are whiskey written words, less true. When death-kiss tempts us and we seek peace in the whiskey. Are we falling? or have we accepted enough?

3- I loved a pretty girl once. A pale skin Scottish gal, who I promised everything. I didn't know, words were just words. I didn't know life was love, love was life. I told the Lake St. Clair. I am sorry dear Sheena. Foolish men learn too late. He had the mercy of love near and he forgot her. Allowed her to become a whisper in a old man heart.

4- Our skin remember and our hands miss the tenderness of soft touch. Beautiful days, pretty smiles and the sea. Memories tattoos on a weary heart. Now the old man sits alone, near the sea and he told the sea. We shall learn the weeping song and we will write the lullaby for another to understand. When love is near. Don't allow her to escape you.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Cherrie Palmer]

Poetry is a healing salve for writer and reader.

[Coyote Poetry]

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

[Ranger Kessel]

It as a lot to come out and share and there is a figurative lock on some things. Thanks fir sharing. I liked this

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Ranger Kessel. I appreciate the comment.

[John the Baptist]

I doubt Hemingway told anyone about his pain. Too macho for that. Had he been more flexible, he might not have ended up with that shotgun pressed against his forehead.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree my friend. Us men, rarely show emotion. Thank you for reading and the comment.