Love is like a hammer

Jazzy Sunday and poem eighteen for April.

                                                      Love is like a hammer

I left Michigan in 1991 and I sat in the Jazz club at 12 pm, trying to write a poem. The Jazz man was playing the songs, so good. He asked me. Johnnie, you need a song. I told him. I want the saddest and most honest song you can sing. I put twenty dollars in his tip cup. He thought a minute and he told me. I got your song my friend. The saddest song I know. The song is called. Love is like a hammer. He begin to sing and I started bleeding to the paper.

 "Love is like a hammer

My dear love, beautiful Eve told me. If you leave me today. Please don't come back no-one. If California loved you so damn much. I hope she can make you happy. I returned in 1994 and the door locks were changed and I knew. She didn't love me no-more.

I went back to California and beautiful Simona told me at the sea. Love is like a hammer. You can be the nail or the hammer? Both wanted too little or too much. Bacchus wine keep us safe and every kiss we steal. Demand payment. Let's drink the tequila and weave a story where love won't brake our heart.

I left California in 1994. I loved the Austin Jazz bars. I could drink and swim in dead memories. Beautiful Ana would join me. She asked for a drink and a kiss. I ordered her a tequila and a cold beer. She smiled and she give me a warm kiss. She whispered. You love the jazz, like I do. You and I, we damn love a long time ago. We love rhyme and song. We know, love is like a hammer. We are stealing or we causing madness. Dark poet. Make me believe love is sweeter than hate.

I took her to the empty dance floor and I told her as I held her tightly. The bliss and kiss we do need dear Ana. Love will damn us into believing we are not alone. I learn a long time ago. We will pay for every sin. Better to be honest. Lies will bury our souls. She smiled and she pushed her body closer and she whispered. We need what we need Johnnie. Sometime, a little bit of love keep us alive. Even if we are doing the liar's prayer.

I kissed her hard and I told her. You are sweeter the September Michigan honey and kinder than a warm Spring day. Let's dance into the streets of Austin. Find the Austin river and pray for love. She smiled and she whispered yes."

The Jazz man finished the song and I thanked him. I torn the sheet of paper out and I gave the paper to him. He read the words and he smiled. He told me. This is Jazzy and so true. Blue love, dark love. Is still love my friend.

Coyote

Author's Note

Poem 18 for April.

Reviews

[Arthur Henn]

Coyote. This writing stopped me in my tracks. Your words take me back to my backroads of love, courtship, and marriage. A bitter sweet love of fourteen. A love I never really got to know ( Rest In Peace ) Finding love in California ( 1974 ) Not knowing what courtship was. Marriage at 21 - 42 years now. And realizing the fact that courtship is what I never had. If I could go back and do it all again. Knowing what I know today. I would have done a lot of things different ( I think Kenny Chesney ) Wrote those words in a song.

Your words up there bring back a lot of past memories.

Thank You for sharing.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Arthur for reading and the comment. We all did things we wish we could take back. But we can't.

[Kerra]

You can be the nail or the hammer?

I enjoyed this part, frankly I'd be like a nail, I don't like being hit on the head but sometimes I need to be. I can be stubborn

[Coyote Poetry]

I loved the jazz song. I believe, we can be either hammer or nail.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and what a good picture of Scarlett J.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I agree, we pay for our sins sooner or later...
If we leave others often enough, and cause them hurt...it will work its way back to us.

No matter where we are.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Jacob for reading and the comment. I agree with you. Everything we do. Will return in three-folds.

[h d e rushin]

you know i'm a jazzer from the old school. Still haunted by the "California sound" of Art Pepper, Chet Baker and Gerry Mulligan's, lush ballad's and sweeping crescendo's/ contested with stiff drinks and close standing women. Love hammers our thoughts; our dreams in place just like jazz cements our stubborn contemplation's to our desire to be taken in someone's embrace.
I saw, what I thought, was an eagle, this morning flying over East Jefferson. I thought it was an eagle because no sparrow or robin would dare to fly so recklessly. I love your reckless spirit my friend.

[Coyote Poetry]

I was lucky. I saw and listen to the old New Orleans jazz and the Austin, Texas jazz clubs. I need music to make me dig deep and bleed. Than I can write. I liked the Straycat in Clinton Twp before the coronavirus. On Monday, the legend of Detroit would play the jazz. They left us and they went to Atlanta. Where they could make some money. Thank you dear friend for reading and the comment.

[Sami Khalil]

A memorable moment wrapped in sweet romance and all that Jazz. I have been to Austin's famous 6th. Street many times. I enjoyed the walk up and down, the music and the people. Lively like your poems sir Johnny.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Sami. Austin, Texas. One place I want to re-visit. Just sit down, listen to some jazz and remember the good days gone.

[Sami Khalil]

Yes siiiirrrr. Sounds good.