“Broken promises and forgotten places.”
Broken promises and forgotten places
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
A wise man accept responsibility for his actions.
I could sit and gaze at you for hours. Watch you plant your herbal garden.
I loved seeing the pride in your eyes when life was born out of dirt and hard work.We would lay nude on our soft bed surrounded by thick blankets till late afternoons on Saturday and Sunday.
We tried to keep the world at bay.
You told me I was your savior and you were my princess.
I would write poetry and story by the small lake. You would study and peek at my words.
I remember your questions. “Johnnie, what are the paradox of being alive. Are we just wasting air and time?”
I loved watching your eyes. Your beautiful blue eyes hunger and searched for knowledge and life. Your heart and mind was soaring and free. I was just hanging on to you and adoring your beautiful face and blessed to
be near a divine and hopeful spirit.
I was cold and heartless when you came into my life. I didn’t know love could be sweet. Woman could be gentle and kind. We had the strong wine of youth where life was uncertain and age was our disadvantage. We made love like it was our first and last time. You knew the serene emotion of love wasn’t permanent. Time was short for two people with too many dreams and the sea separating them.
We parted on a cold December day. You were reaching for the stars and I was just trying to hold on.
Words can become useless, promises can become forgotten. The scars of love are written on the walls of our heart forever.
Broken promises and forgotten places become beautiful corridors in old age.
The phantoms of faces, words and turbulent times.
Can make the midnight hour of life more cheerful and complete.
Because we had loved and tested life often.
Coyote/John Castellenas
the way you write is so beautiful , one feels there in your words, with you feeling the same. John you are a very genuine composer
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Thank you Tanveer. I appreciate the kind words.
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Beautiful
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Thank you for reading and the comment.
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Reblogged this on From My Mind… and commented:
Such an awesome piece
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You have given me a fresh appreciation for my own corridors John – thank you.
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Life is corridors of opportunity. We hope we make the right decisions. Thank you for reading and the comment.
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beautifully written. I think everyone can relate at least one of their loves to this.
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I agree and thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.
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Beautiful as always John!
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Thank you Ms. Vee. I appreciate the comment.
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You’re welcome.
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Truly a beautiful expression of love cherished and lost, very well done!
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Wonderful poem John. I knew a woman once, who was like a wildflower. I suppose I have known a few.
Excerpt of William Wordsworth’s “The Prelude I”:
How Wallace fought for Scotland; left the name
Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower,
All over his dear Country; left the deeds
Of Wallace, like a family of Ghosts,
To people the steep rocks and river banks,
Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul
Of independence and stern liberty.
Sometimes it suits me better to invent
A tale from my own heart, more near akin
To my own passions and habitual thoughts;
Some variegated story, in the main
Lofty, but the unsubstantial structure melts
Before the very sun that brightens it,
Mist into air dissolving! Then a wish,
My last and favourite aspiration, mounts
With yearning toward some philosophic song
Of Truth that cherishes our daily life;
With meditations passionate from deep
Recesses in man’s heart, immortal verse
Thoughtfully fitted to the Orphean lyre;
But from this awful burthen I full soon
Take refuge and beguile myself with trust
That mellower years will bring a riper mind
And clearer insight. Thus my days are past
In contradiction; with no skill to part
Vague longing, haply bred by want of power,
From paramount impulse not to be withstood,
A timorous capacity, from prudence,
From circumspection, infinite delay.
Humility and modest awe, themselves
Betray me, serving often for a cloak
To a more subtle selfishness; that now
Locks every function up in blank reserve,
Now dupes me, trusting to an anxious eye
That with intrusive restlessness beats off
Simplicity and self-presented truth.
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Thank you reading and the amazing poem.
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So beautiful. Makes me long for the love I lost, and smile at the memories. Love leaves scars so deep, we will never fully heal. X
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You are right. Some scars are forever.Thank you for reading and the comment,
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“The scars of love are written on the walls of our hearts forever”… So painfully true. Memories of love, in our years of youth are an elixir to the ills of aging. Beautiful.
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Yes, you are right. First true love is never forgotten. Thank you for reading and the comment.
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