The poet song...

The great question. Are our leftover words. Do they have value?

The poet song...

Once he was the Monterey dark poet, once he was the word-man in Austin, Texas. Now a million words later.

2500 poems and stories written. He wondered. Did he make the world a better place?

Once a businessman, once a soldier, once a father and now. A grandfather.

He asked the midnight hours. Did I do enough?

Once he wanted to be like Hemingway and he became Salinger. Now he seek silence.

He loved the Jazz, he loved the Gentleman Jack whiskey and he loved his books.

He asked the 3am hour. Kosinski wrote of the sin of wars, the war poets wrote of home

and the gruesome days of war. What have we learn from them?

He wondered. Do words have value? Do words have meaning?

Yesterday man had become a ghost and he is waiting for death. Death told him often.

Not your time yet.

He asked the coming morning. Am I just waiting for the good death?

He had known sorrow and he had known many blessings.  Today in  his house,

grandchildren are with him. The house is loud and filled with noise and laughter.

He wondered. What kind of world. Did he leave his grandchildren?

He listen to the sounds of the world. He rarely hear words of hope, he rarely hear words of peace.

He wondered do the children see how his generation killed off the possibility of great world?

The old poet became the Lake St. Clair  poet. He prayed to the goddess of the lake.

Please stop the wars, please stop the words of hate and separation.

The old world is screaming for help and no-one is listening.

He believed the biggest sin, my friend. Governments who create weapons of death for profit.

Countries who willingly send guns and weapons to murdered without a thought.

John Denver told us. Many moons ago. War is man greatest sin.

I wonder what the children think? I wonder, what did we leave for the children?

Who is wrong? Who is right? When no-one will win the war.

Dancing Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Stella Armour]

You, the old poet my friend have shared so much and in depth feeling and emotions too...
Leonard Cohen another old master , now gone... these kind of poems live on ..

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Stella. Happy New year my dear friend.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

becoming Salinger is not a bad thing...and you, dear poet, have made your mark. Your poetry is realism
and raw feelings...no one does that better here than you.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

I want to read Salinger hidden books Jacob. He never stop writing in his man cave. I fear, I won't be alive when they open the safe. Thank you my friend for reading and the comment.