The Poet’s love (First three chapters)
The Poet’s love
A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
A new story
The old Poet loved the country of Honduras. He had come here often in his life and he loved the Honduras coastline. Trujillo and Tela had been his safe haven for 30 years. He had lived his best and worst days near the Caribbean sea. Now he came back to die. He was at the American motel in Trujillo sitting with three old friend. They were enjoying the view of the Caribbean sea, drinking sweet red wine and discussing the Poet’s ending.
Paloma, a poet from Spain, she told him. You are drinking the Honduras rum as your pain killers. Slowly fading away my dear friend Johnnie. Johnnie told her. There are worst ways to die. I can slowly die drinking the Honduras rum and I have my three best friend near. Lawrence, a retired doctor from Honduras, told him, with sadness in his voice. You have been waiting for death. You treat death like a welcome guest. My old friend. Death is the end. I know of no-one who have seen heaven or hell. Leo, a painter of the sea, women and the landscape whispered. Paloma and Lawrence. I left my home in Mexico with deadly cancer 10 years ago to die in Trujillo. Today I’m alive because of the kindness of kind Trujillo women and the fresh and clean air. If Johnnie want to die. With death. We do not decide. Better to lived a life, free of fear. Some comical god-like thing made man. Weak, foolish and dumb. Men don’t appreciate the gifts given. Just create havoc.
Johnnie smiled and he asked the group. Remember when we found each other in 1986. Paloma, you were the most beautiful woman I ever seen. We met at the nightly festival sponsored by the Doctor. I saw you dancing and I was memorized by your long flowing auburn hair and your long perfect tanned legs. You awoke me with a sweet whisper. Your dark brown eyes made me weak and speechless. I still remember the whisper. You asked me. Was I in love or in lust? I told you. Both. Leo smiled and laughed. He told them. I remember them days. Paloma was my first nude paintings. She was a dark skin goddess and I asked her to pose. She asked. Cloths or nude. I told her both. Paloma smiled and she told him. I have one of those paintings still. You made me perfect and feel wonderful and beautiful. I was a college girl seeking reasons to live. Johnnie taught me poetry and you taught me the beauty of the world. You never attempted to touch me. I learn years later. You loved another.
Lawrence smiled and laughed at the conversation. He told them. Those were the good days dear friends. I found Johnnie first in Tela. I was the village doctor and I loved to speak English or French. I saw Johnnie sitting alone drinking the Honduras rum and he was watching the water dance on the shore from the hotel tavern. I invited him to my table. We were joined by six Tela young women. Tropical beauties with wild eyes and who loved to dance. Me and Johnnie talked till dawn. I remember Johnnie was escaping a broken heart and I told him. We have six Honduras beauties near us. I believe men are not supposed to love one woman. Woman are something to behold. Can’t hold too tightly and you can’t hold on too loosely. When the gift of love, embrace and kiss is given. Just be thankful. I remember when you met Rosa that night. She rested on your shoulder and she waited for you to see her. I remember you looked at her and you learned I was right. When a woman pay you attention. Be thankful.
Paloma smiled and she told them. Men rarely know what they want. Once, me and Johnnie were suppose to get marry. Johnnie left for some war and I went home. I learn a Poet’s love. Male or female. Just addition to a journal to be locked away and re-read when needed. Johnnie, we tried three times and now I found you again. Are we destiny or just finding dead-end? Is our love real or just some fantasy for a poem or tale?
Johnnie took her hand and he told her. You were my first and you shall be my last love. I remember the night I met you. You stole my heart and my voice. We danced till the music was no-more. I still can see your Summer dress and how your eyes made the moon and stars seem so small. We stayed in the hotel for three days. Coming out for food and drink only.
Leo told them. No-more love stories today. Tonight the moon is full and I can hear the Trujillo songs by the beach. Me, Lawrence, you and dear Paloma will dance, drink and sing till we cannot no-more. Tonight is for living. Not for dying.
The Poet’s love-part two
A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
Lawrence enjoyed the night life. He was a skilled Doctor with many opportunities. He decided Teja and Trujillo would be his places of healing. Less money for him to be made but the appreciation of the people in the two cities made him content and okay with his life. He left the coastline once to go to the University for 12 years. He came back to her and he never left the coastline again. He was well-liked and he never marry. He had a pretty companion once. She was a long-haired and dark-eyed beauty. She got the cancer in 1982. After her death. He decided. Old heart couldn’t accept another heartbreak. He found joy and peace near the young people who danced and sang till dawn. He found Johnnie in 1986 and they became great friends. They were inseparable till Paloma showed up.
Leo was a famous Mexican painter. He loved Mexico but he hated the government. He kept his mouth shut and allowed his hands to create masterpieces. He loved Mexico city. He would paint the ancient buildings and scenery. One night at the Tavern. He met Paloma. Paloma was a fiery lady trying to create change. She was a Poet trying to show the world how the Mexican government and gangs abused the people, mainly the young women. She was safe for a second because she was a Spain citizen visiting and some what famous. Leo told her. Old wise words by Dryden. Don’t be a martyr. A dead poet can’t write no-more. She laughed at him and she told him. A silence voice accept the bad shit and they will become part of it. He fell in love with her the first moment he had met her. He watched her dance and she shared poetry with him.
Removed veil revealed.
Perfection remembered and never forgotten.
The harmony of the dance.
The amorous emotions of being alive known.
Treasured memories and places dear artist.
Leo met her often at the Tavern. One day she quit coming. He researched her and he learned. She was locked-up in a Mexico city prison. He had painted many paintings for the Judges and law enforcers in the city. He had painted their wives and their children. He would do something he didn’t want to do. Make a deal with them. He knew if he didn’t get Paloma out of the prison. She would die. He went to the head police officer. Senor Lopez. He requested a meeting. Senor Lopez met him and he asked to have Paloma freed from prison. Senor Lopez told him. I want all your painting in your studio and one more. Paint me now! Leo painted him with skill and perfection. He made the officer look honorable and powerful. Senor Lopez told him. Many want her dead. Paloma must leave Mexico city and Mexico ASAP or she will be killed. A large bounty on her head. Leo had his car and he went to Paloma hotel. He gathered all her belonging and he took his few items he held important. Everything was packed and ready for a quick escape from the city. Senor Lopez met them at midnight at the prison and he told him. Leave the city now and I will report her escape in the morning. You will be hunted and killed with her my friend. Paloma was brought out by the guards. She had bruises on her arms and her neck. She didn’t raise her face-up to face to the guards. Was a deadly silence in the car till Mexico City was in the far-distance.
Paloma looked-up and she begin to cry. Leo stopped the car and he held her. He told her. You will be okay honey. We will leave Mexico and we will never look back. Paloma looked at him and she asked. You risked everything for me dear Painter. Why? He smiled and he told her. You made me feel weak and hopeless. Today I feel wise and strong. Your words spoken in the Tavern made me want to be brave for a second. She looked in the back-seat and she told him. Thank you dear Leo for saving me and my work. What do I owe you? He smiled and he told her. I want a forever friend and the knowing. I saved a beautiful and wonderful woman. She asked him. Where do we go now? We go to Teja, Honduras. A place for the poets, painters and the singers. We will fade away on the Honduras coastline and be forgotten. Leo had many friends. They escaped into Belize and they found a safe passage into Honduras.
Leo took Paloma to the Teja Doctor Lawrence. Doctor Lawrence told her. A lot of bruising and no internal bleeding. You will be okay my new friend. He gave her some codeine for the pain and some penicillin for the healing. He gave her a bag of rosemary tea and he told her. You must rest and relax dear Paloma. Here in Teja, us people wanting to play hide and see. Can. You and Leo will be my guest for as long as you need. My home is your home. In five days. Trujillo is having a large festival. You and Leo will be my guest. Now Paloma, take a long bath. My nurse Liliam will add some plants and herbs to the warm water. Make you body heal and become strong. Dear Paloma. You are a brave lady. It is time to be less brave and gather your heart and mind again. You saw hell, you need to find some kind of peace.
Johnnie sat in the back seat with Paloma on the way to Trujillo. Leo and Lawrence. They talked and talked. Johnnie knew her and her work. He visited her daily, brought fresh fruit and tasty meat to eat. She ate little and he sat with her. Holding her hands and caressing her face. She spoke little. She asked his name on the second day. He told her. Johnnie, just a helper of Lawrence. He saved my life often. Paloma looked better. The herbal baths and the rosemary tea healed her quickly. Dr. Lawrence told her. You are a strong lady and please stay strong. Paloma looked at the Honduras coastline and she begin to cry. Johnnie brought her near and he whispered. Release the tears and the pain. You had lived and you can fight another day. Life is hard and life will become harder. He loved her from the first moment he saw her. Her face was gentle and her eyes filled with anger. She was a Spain lady. Tall, long-legged and beautiful. Paloma asked Leo. What is my payment for you saving my life. Leo smiled and he told her. I want to paint you. All my old painting were traded away for a Spanish goddess. She smiled and she asked. Clothed or nude. Leo told her both.
They arrived in Trujillo and the party had begun already. Lawrence told them. We will stay at the American Hotel. You have single rooms and I ensured you have the clothing of Trujillo for you. We will become part of the city and the heritage tonight. Paloma found a sleeveless blouse and a cotton dress of many colors on the bed. She looked down and she loved the sandals of Trujillo. They reminded her of Spain. Johnnie and Leo had shirts with too many less buttons and cotton pants. Johnnie laughed at the appearance in the mirror. His hairless chest showing like a tango dancer and pants like a sheep herder. Paloma stood in front of the mirror. She was herself already. The five days in Teja was needed. She had deep thoughts and she knew. Her fight had just begun for equal rights and stopping violence. She liked the image in the mirror. She felt sexy and beautiful.
Johnnie saw Paloma come out of her room and he ran to her. Almost falling down. Paloma caught him and she whispered. Are you in lust or in love? He told her. Both my Spanish beauty. Tonight we dance, drink and sing. Forget the past and celebrate the beginnings. She looked sad and she asked. I’m beaten and sad dear Johnnie. I thank you for the care and the silence in Teja. Do you really love me? He smiled and he kissed her bare shoulders and her lips many times. He whispered. You are my first wish to the stars and last wish to the evening stars dear Paloma.
The Poet’s love-Paloma fight
A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
At the late Summer festival in Trujillo. Four friends found their reserved seats. Doctor Lawrence was treated with great respect and kindness. Most of the people of Trujillo had been treated by him throughout his 40 years as the coastal doctor. Lawrence told his old friends. It is the year 2016 and I’m glad we are all together for the seventh time in 30 years. I’m thankful we have kept our friendship alive and well. You have been my dear friends since Leo and Paloma joined us in 1986. Me and John were alone and needed some good company. We have lived a wild life and now John came back to die in the city of Trujillo. But John will learn. The ancient Trujillo medicine and herbs will keep him alive and steady. Central American is blessed by the gift of nature. Us foolish men believe we need man-made drugs when the simple coconut, the rosemary and free tropical herbal plants can stop the cancer.
Paloma told Lawrence. You can’t stop death. When death comes for you. You must go willingly. Lawrence smiled and he laughed. He told her. Leo support to be dead and gone. The tropical wisdom is simple. Make the mind believe and allow the plants to change the blood. Cancer, like all things can be changed by diet. Some clinics in Mexico packed the cancer patient with garlic and the desert plants. Don’t cure the cancer. Stopped the cancer from expanding.
Paloma smiled and she kisses Lawrence hands. She told him. I love you dear Lawrence. I love you my dear nagual of all things. We owe you everything. I remember the first day I met you. Leo brought me to you. Broken and wounded. You and dear Liliam treated me like a child. You knew I was beaten and weak. I remember dear Liliam singing me soft lullabies to me when I relaxed in the bathtub. She knew I needed quiet and time to think. On the second day. You came to my bedside and felt my forehead and you told me. Dear Paloma. More demons than angels. You are a brave and courageous woman. You were a kind angel to many. You stood for strangers and you learned. The devil seems to always win. But beautiful Paloma, you did not lose. Your words are being screamed-out in Mexico and people are paying attention to the women of the Mexican border. The Spain government had demanded to know where you are. I believe better for you to laid silence till you can fight with 100% strength. Don’t allow the Mexican terrorist to win. When you show your face again. Be the fearless Paloma, not the beaten. I remember I begin to cry. You caressed my forehead and you sang a lullaby for me.
Don’t cry my baby girl.
Don’t you cry no-more.
Please allow the tears to fade to anger.
The anger to strong heart and mind.
Make the world see a woman.
Who won’t cry no-more.
He introduced Johnnie to me this day. You made me laugh when I saw him. A high and tight military hair cut and a soldier. I asked him. A soldier nurse? More men who want to kill and destroy all things that are beautiful. You told me. Johnnie is a re-formed soldier. Only killed for a pretty Spanish Poet and the Honduras rum. Johnnie sat with me and he spoke a few words. Please take this journal and please write dear Paloma. He gave me a new journal with art on the cover. I hold this journal more precious today. The artwork of the doves can still be seen. Johnnie never left my side. He sat with me in the day and he slept near me in the night. Honduras was very hot. Johnnie would hourly wipe my face, shoulders and legs with cold water. He served my medicine and he wrote holding silence. On the third day. I asked him. What are you writing. He smiled and he answered. Just story and poetry. I asked him to read to me and he did.
Lovely land blessed and wild still.
One locked-up people have known true freedom for 500 years.
Dark skin beauties and strong men will steal your heart and soul.
The old soulful ways still held tightly and lovingly.
The old medicine, the old ways still are honored.
The kind and gentle people willing to share their smiles and their beautiful city.
Dear Trujillo, sweet paradise by the sea.
I’m thankful for you.
The Spanish beauty
Silence lady fighting a fight she couldn’t win.
She wrote a 100,000 words for the helpless women of the Mexican border who couldn’t fight no-more.
She learn the devils seem to always win.
The brave poet will understand.
Martyr are many and heroes are few.
The Spanish beauty stood her ground and she learn.
Love is life and life is love.
Every life had value and
sometimes we must give-up everything to learn.
We must never give-in or give-up.
A strong and righteous voice will be heard even when surrounded by hateful men.
Today the words of the Spanish poet are being sung by the people who understand.
Every life had value.
She told him. Now you and Lawrence said I did something. Johnnie told her with sadness in his voice. How can you stop a hurricane? How do you stop a thunderstorm? You can’t. The men who control the Mexican borders. Cold, heartless and don’t value life. I wish I know the cure. My grandfather told me. Making men change, like spitting into the wind. The spits will return. Maybe words are the same. Maybe we are doing nothing or maybe we can save one life? He asked her. Did you write? She smiled and she whispered. You showed me your words and I will show you my words.
More dead on the dead.
Babies forced to be whores.
Sin city, a bloody hell.
The hell expanded to the deadly borders.
Young girls, used, abused and tortured.
Just profit for sick men.
Who is crying for the little girls?
Locked-up, screwed and killed.
Silence and dead.
Leave no witness.
Blind police officers.
Protect profitable business.
leaving poor parent with questions and bad answers to be learned.
Please God. Where are you?
Do you see what they are doing to the babies?
Maria and Adel
A tearful mother came to me.
She begged me to help her find her daughter.
Her 14-year-old and 15-year-old daughters kidnapped from their private school.
I found them.
Bounded and chained to some beds.
They were nude and barely conscious.
I talked to them.
Poor girls were drugged and they could barely talk.
I offered all the money I had to free them.
Ugly Mexican man with a death tattoo on his face told me.
The girls are money makers.
Still wanted and young.
The police told me.
Can’t do a damn thing.
Five months later.
Police found Maria and Adel nude and dead behind an empty building.
I and the mother cried a thousand tears for her babies.
They were dead and I was defeated.
You stripped me.
You beat me.
You took away my pride.
I didn’t die.
You made me stand nude for hours
threatening beatings and rape.
You told me often.
I would die and be forgotten.
After seven days.
I prayed for death.
You wouldn’t allow me to die.
I remember your dirty hands on my skin.
I remember you looking at me like a piece of meat.
I was saved because of my citizenship.
A brave man risked everything for me.
He risked his life and he gave everything away for my selfish life.
I didn’t die.
Today I remember everything.
I have forgotten nothing.
Once a great Poet Dryden said.
“Don’t be a martyr for some cause. Dead writers cannot save the world.”
I believe Dryden was wrong.
Blind people with no concern for the children.
Uncaring eyes who allowed abuse, rape and murder.
They become part of the problem.
A thousand girls missing on the Mexican border.
A thousand girls missing on the Mexican border.
Do you care?
John had tears in his eyes and he held silence when she finished reading. She looked at him with falling tears. She asked him. If the world is so cold and worthless. Why do we try? Why do we live? He took my hands. He kissed each finger and he wrapped his arms around her and he told her. You have seen and known beauty and the ugliness of this world. We must forget the ugliness and the good days last longer and forget the bad days. The bad days are just education for us to be wiser and stronger. Please Paloma, rest and gain strength. You are safe here in Trujillo. You touched my face, shoulders and bare legs with some cold water on some damp cloths. She watched him and she wondered why this young man was sitting with her. He slept on the floor and he awoke when she was alert. He ensured she was safe. I was happy knowing there were men like Lawrence, Leo and Johnnie. I knew I would be okay.
Johnnie kissed her and he told her. Enough sad talk and memories. I only remember I loved you from the first second I saw you. I loved your face and your long legs. Your face already filled with life and story. You were a natural beauty who wouldn’t give-up or give-in. Now it is time for the rum and the song. We will save the world tomorrow. Four people rose up and followed the sound of the song.