The poet's heart.

July new poetry number forty-three..

The poet's heart... 

The poet wrote to paper. Where are you my love, sweet. He told the morning sky, do you remember? I promised you a Summer waltz near the sea and I am waiting for you. Please my Spring love become my Summer kisses."

The Poet’s heart.

The poet paint words to paper, to create visions of the adventures we must do and done, he write the story of his great loves and he write of the misery of war.

If the poet don’t write, if the writers don’t create wonderful books. The men and women who lived, who danced upon the beautiful earth and who fought in so many war. And didn’t return to their home.

They will be forgotten.

We need the artist to create painting that leave places and people faces. Forever to be seen and to create. Poetry for our eyes.

We need the musicians to create song to make the heart and the mind come alive.

The artist create everlasting stories to outlive time and people lives. Each painting, a glimpse of beautiful face, time forgotten and the ancients cities.

We need the song-birds, the singers who allow us to fall into their songs. Allowing us to dance and allowed us to wander to better places, sometimes ugly places.

And we must remember the poets. Who bleed to paper and they hope, someone may read.

The old poet told the quiet people at the Monterey poetry reading, listening to his words. Please create, please dance as often as you can and sing songs to the Pacific.

No glory in crying for things lost and gone. Great men, great women laugh at death and they ask for more. They know we have today. Make this days your best day my friends.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

In this interesting take, the poet is seen as both a historian and a philosopher. It is the poet's job to create word pictures of those who have struggled, suffered and died, so that future generations will not forget them. In the last lines the poet offers advice for living, mainly to make the present day the best one. Not all poets can live up to these lofty goals, but we can give the effort our best.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are right John. Hard to paint the picture of this world today. Thank you for reading and the comment.