Just whispers to Lake Huron…
Just whispers to the Lake Huron
You came to me in a yesterday memory and you told me Johnnie. Can’t wait no-more. You have too much to love and to embrace. I’m just a heavy burden you and I cannot wait for. The men who love the lakes, the children and his damn words. Johnnie, a poet is blind. Words don’t teach us joy. Real kiss and embrace does.
I went to Port Austin alone. Me and the vodka and juice came to write for my beloved lake and you.
—
Liz, Elizabeth, my love
I need to tell you,
I can’t tell you.
I want to tell you and
my words are wandering off to the kind Lake Huron.
Fall is coming.
The leaves are beginning to turn and my heart is heavy with regret.
I miss you my beautiful Liz.
My darling, I’m here and you are gone.
I need you, I don’t need you.
Old Poet had learn Hemingway wishes and regret.
To had tasted love sweetness and was just.
A wisp of a dream that could not be held.
I love you my dear Liz,
I love you face and your gentle hands,
I love you wild eyes and hungry to dance and laugh.
Today me and my Lake Huron are waiting for no-one.
Just old friends are here . Journals, old books and pen.
Johnnie waiting for you, dear Elizabeth in Port Austin and
the coldness of Winter is coming.
I’m so damn cold and lonely without you.
Sometimes old men learn. We have our vodka and juice.
And a thousands memories and places we cannot find no-more.
—
I sit in the Port Austin shop and I watch the people come and go. I told the pretty artist. Maybe life is to learn. Love is rare and we shall know few kind people. Maybe us painters and writers have a few friends at the end. Maybe the vodka and juice. Lake Huron is our last dear friend. The pretty artist smiled and she asked. Can I paint you dear Johnnie. Your face and eyes. A thousand place can be seen. Old faces are beautiful. Leftover scars make them so damn beautiful. You and I. Port Austin statues who are waiting for the last wild dance?
The pretty artist held my hand and she whispered. Some people love the road, the sea and lakes more than love. You and I shall be okay. You get what you deserve. Maybe we deserve each other?
John Castellenas/Coyote
I love this piece John. The feelings and the longing come through beautifully. It’s just mid summer and you are talking about fall?
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Thank you my friend for reading and the comment. I am enjoying the days of Summer. I hope you enjoying the days of Summer.
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Don’t have Lake Huron nearby but trying to make do with what we have.
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I am near Lake St. Clair. Seven mile away. Lake Huron is 40 miles away. The lakes are clean. Closed factories allowed the lake to heal. Have fun and be safe.
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Yes, I remember now. Of the great lakes, I have seen three. Michigan, Erie and Ontario. Superior and Huron are on the bucket list.
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Very sincere and intimate words. I love this.
I loved it from the first paragraph, where at the end of it, you stated that the words of a poet cannot express the joys, though kisses and embraces do. That’s true. We are poets and writers of words. Though, the truth comes forth in the act.
There’s a sense of longing in this work, as if you are reaching for something, though is so far out of your sight. Though, it seems you still wonder about it, like when you mention that you watch the people come and go at the shop. I have to wonder that if you’ve endured a loss, that experience teaches us to keep our eyes even more opened than ever.
I hope life treats you well, and like I once wrote, “Like the dish requires its own main ingredient, love is the main ingredient to life.”
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Thank you for reading and the comment. I believe, everyone had known loss and sadness. In the old days. The World wars stole our youth. I remember my grandmother had tears for cousins and brothers who die. I agree. Love keep us strong.
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