My midnight thoughts.

In the midnight hours. We can roam to place where love was sweet and we were brave.

My midnight thoughts..

I am drinking alone at 6 pm and the night is going so damn slow  and

I drinking the Blue Moon and I fall into the old songs.

Almost 9 pm and I pour a glass of whiskey and a glass of water and

I tell the night. Damn you Kelly, I miss your face, I miss your voice.

Almost midnight and I feel so damn alone and 

I dance alone in my kitchen.

Tonight I told the night.

Maybe love, maybe not.

Maybe I have become the forgotten man?

Elvis is singing to me at 1 am and 

I tell the glass of whiskey.

Damn you Kelly,

where were you when love was sweet?

Where were you when I yearned for the kiss,

the midnight dance?

Tonight I drink alone and

I have accepted my solitude.

I told the dead poet, John Donne.

Damn your words.

"You don't find love, love will find you."

Now the old poet wrote to paper.

When you waste the gift of love,

when you forget the kindness of love.

What do we become?

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The drunken blues, been there, done that, have the hat and the tee shirt. These days I spend my time counting my blessings. I'm alive, I'm not in too much pain. I have hands and feet and a mind that still functions. I can put those things to work for me trying to achieve my dreams or plans for today or I can sit on my butt and cry into my beer and waste what time I have left feeling sorry for myself. For me, it's not a difficult choice. I have people counting on me. I have a job to do. I have things to accomplish before I'm ready to check out of Hotel Life. People waste time on things they can't change so they have no time to change the things for good that they might. Life is hard and merciless. It's so hard that it kills us all in the end. But there is no monopoly on pain. Pain is the one thing there's plenty of to go around and everyone suffers; some, more than others. But it doesn't take a great leap of the imagination to look into that father's eyes whose child is dying from cancer; to feel his despair and sense his hopelessness and understand that there are levels of pain beyond the physical. But we all hurt in some way. It's just life's way of reminding us we are still alive. But...if we can find time to devote ourselves to easing the suffering or pain of another or helping someone else along life's road; if we can forget ourselves long enough to give ourselves to something bigger than self, perhaps our lives will not be spent in vain. Someone asked me once, "What is the meaning of life?" I just said, it's the meaning you give it. So I won't waste my time feeling sorry for anyone and especially not myself. I don't do that for these two reasons, 1. I've never know feeling sorry to help anyone or to help in any situation and 2. Despair is the enemy of production. We can't get anything done at the great pity party so I simply do not attend. But I will try to help. I will focus on what can be done and I will apply myself to solutions rather than resign myself to problems. I've never yet found a single solution at the bottom of a bottle; a lot of heartaches and headaches but no solutions. I have to keep my mind clear so I can focus on my plan of action as to how I'll turn this thing called life to my favor. And I won't give up because I know I can't lose the fight as long as I'm still in it. A place of sweetness and tenderness; a place of goodness and kindness, a place of comfort and strength, those we can store inside us near our honor and integrity. But liquor blurs our vision and staggers our step until we can't find that place, not in ourselves, in memories or in others.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Fabian. I am fine. Just re-writing forty years of writing. Need a glass of beer sometimes to relax the mind. But the Blue Moon beer is a treat in a frozen glass.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

They say "misery loves company" but I'd rather hang out where there's less misery and less company. I used to go to bars. There's a lot of lonely, hurting people in those places trying to find happiness. But if happiness finds you, then you don't need to go out looking for it. I think inspiration is sort of the same. Nothing wrong with a cold beer or a shot of spirits now and then. It's when we try to use it as a painkiller for life it becomes addictive and self- destructive. Just my thoughts, John. I enjoyed the read.

[softlyfall]

I don't drink Blue Moon but I can blow some Blue Dream with you if you need company. It is a wicked twist of fate when two lonely people drink in two different places.
This poem unfolds like still frame glimpses, each revealing a little bit more and the theme also becoming more razor sharp.
You become something new every single moment, Coyote. Every single one. Acceptance of solitude does not mean acceptance of loneliness. Well, for one thing, you have all of us, right?
Such a relatable poem for so many people.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear poet. You are very kind and very sweet. I appreciate the kind words.

[Ken e Bujold]

this is a superb bit of poetry Coyote. Wisdom born of desperation is how I would describe the slow grind of the narrator's journey to that absolute killer closing, something Donne could be proud to have called his own

[Coyote Poetry]

Donne was real. One wife and eleven children. Thank you Ken for reading and the comment.

[Einstein Noodle]

wow! double wow Coyote Man .. best of yours i have read to date .. well done .. i love every bit of getting drunk and pain ... really good stuff says i ... many lines i wish I had written but couldn't ... you touch my soul sir ... thanks for drinking ;) i mean .. for sharing .. luv on ya brother
E.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Einstein. I appreciate the kind words.