Old poetry and with the same meaning 37 years later. “If I was the King of the forest.”
IF I was the king of the forest.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Old memories and old dreams.
![]()
American Soldiers drinking with boisterous and loud German women and men in a guesthouse.
Celebrating the May festival in Stuttgart in 1978.

Drinking the cognac and good beer.
One of the German men yelled “A toast and a song.”
He ordered a round of cognac for the table.
He raised his cup and spoke. “To peace and no more war.”
He begin to sing. ” If I was the King of the forest. I would have only friends. I would have no hunger and the people would dance and celebrate being alive.
Guns would be forgotten. War would because a myth.
If I was the king of the forest. People would not live with fear. All races and religion would be content.
Murder and death forgotten. This would be my wish. If I was the king of the forest.”
He told us. “Toast to peace and utopia. I pray one day will come.”
I left my celebrating friends. I wrote a poem.
If I was the king of the forest.
If I was the kind of the forest. Wishes would become true.
I close my eyes.
Allowing my mind to travel to a summer day when youth was my wealth.
King of the forest.
When I was unstoppable and all dreams were in reach.
If I could.
Be able to close my eyes. Again be unafraid.
For when I close my eyes.
I don’t remember the victories.
I feel the burden of mistakes only.
If I was the King of the forest.
Love would be forever.
Love would be my only desire.
For if I was King of the forest.
No-one could stop me from saving the world from the hunger
to destroy all things that are beautiful.
For If I was the king.
I would teach the child to love and to have great dreams.
I would erase thousand years of war and hate.
For if.
I could take away all the blood upon each hands,
maybe we could walk unafraid of other.
The King, I shall be.
Only in set-up dreams.
For my world is like a wild beast,
running toward death.
And I the King.
Can watch as drugs and alcohol steal all the hope and dreams of youth.
Rich men leading the world to a self-suicide.
Bringing death and wounds to the young people learning to live.
I.
Will stand and watch.
For only in dreams shall I find the strength to battle.
For the words of the King.
Cannot be heard through the scream of the suffering.

Coyote
1978/re-write 2013
This is my favourite recollection of yours. If I, if we. GREAT job (:
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you and I appreciate the comment. Old poetry take us back to the days of youth and hope.
LikeLike
Love it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Ms. Vee. Days of youth. We could save the world.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yօʊ’ʀɛ աɛʟċօʍɛ! 😁 I ʀɛʍɛʍɮɛʀ tɦօsɛ ɖaʏs.😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
I ɖօռ’t ҡռօա ɨʄ ʍʏ ʀɛsքօռsɛ քօstɛɖ. Yօʊ’ʀɛ աɛʟċօʍɛ, aռɖ I ʀɛʍɛʍɮɛʀ tɦօsɛ ɖaʏs. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on ENLIGHTENMENT ANGELS and commented:
I just LOVE John Denver!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for the reblogged.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this expression of a young man’s hope!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wrote this poem with young eyes. Hard to believe. The world had changed little since 1978. Thank you for reading andthe comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love it, John…and such a great song to accompany it…
LikeLiked by 1 person
John Denver. A gentle voice of hope missed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree, John…I miss him too!
LikeLiked by 1 person