Measure and weight


Measure and weight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

beulah and john

 

 

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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What make us feel human and alive? I believe it is the love we embrace and the forgiveness we must understand and accept.

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                                   Measure and weight

Sitting by the wayside and waiting for answers that can’t be answered with words.
I like the dreamy old Poets and writers from the past. They told us live and live some more.
The dead can’t live no-more.

Old Poet with Miller beer in hand told me. “Measure and weight of things make people and dreams
more important. No-one remembered a man who worked himself to death and appreciate nothing
but money and toys. We must measure up what is important. We must weight the value of time.
Weary and lonely men will tell you. Measure and weight what you think is truly valuable. Otherwise we
are just meat. Raised up to die and be eaten.”

Young man looked at his sweet love. She whispered I love you more the all the star in the bright sky.
He brought her close and told her. “I’m no-one and you are everything. You are my reason to be alive.’

Old Soldier sat by a grave. He drank some budlights beers and talks to his dead friend. He told him. “I brought your favorite beer for you. I needed to be near a friend. Your children are women now. I don’t know what to tell them. You were always a wise man. You would tell me. “Better to shut-up than shake the mountain.”  I need to measure and weight the past. Some stories need to play dead forever. I know there is love beyond the grave. You are watching your daughters.  I do what I can. They miss and need their father. Damn wars take the best from us.” I left the four remainding beers and stand up. Salute the gravestone and walked away.

She was a weathered beauty. Her eyes still shone like a noon sun. I asked her why she spend time with
a man who wanted nothing, just waiting for death. She gave me a big Texas smile and a kiss. Told me. “No-one dead yet my Soldier friend. We are still breathing and have music, dance and whiskey. The night is young and dance floor is empty. Life is measure and weight upon on what we do. The past is gone and we are here.
No-one dead yet?  Let dance Johnnie. Forget the bad days and let’s rewrite some new one’s.’

I don’t know I told the people at the poetry reading. Does words have any meaning at all?

Measure and weight

She kissed me once, she kissed me twice.
I held her tightly.
She asked to be kissed again.
I told her. Too many kisses lead us to deadly ground
where we can lose control.

I watch her ponder the measure and weight of the statement.
She told me, ‘Johnnie. Few opportunity for the second kiss.
A wise man don’t hesitate when a pretty lady asked for more.
Better to venture to the unknown and hope for a happy ending.”

I kissed her again and hope to find utopia in her eyes.

End.

Love and kindness is the way to understanding. Many will fall.
Sooner or later the wounds turn to scars and if we are lucky.
We will know some hope still.

Coyote

© 2014 Coyote Poetry

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