"Four Poems for a Buck"~ A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man

Poetry: Verse About A Would Be Poet

"Four Poems for a Buck" 

Once again this broken down poet is out of luck

He and his old pick-up truck

He and his rambling mind and this fading of time

Still and silent is he, the mountain; buried beneath

Burnt out blues, delivered by run down fools

The lost of his literary tools

Jumbled words stall once again, this fall

The rustling of the winds

Roses bled dry, stuffed in a flask

The death of his Genie in that bottle of glass

Hopes and dreams, forgotten schemes denied

Searching for love; but yet, he never asked or even tried

Pill pop penned with out stopping

But yet never a cigarette to be lit

Once more, pictures shot and stored

Living this life was such a chore

For fate and destiny have played their roles

But just now, they have decided it

That final slice, how lovers wrestled

With vim and vigor, vinegar and wine

These words fell upon, Death's ears

The receipt-ant, colder then ice

His tears turned into, ice

Scribblings upon paper

In a forgotten study

He lies there bloody cold

Amongst the shattered glass, and the mold

Stained Blood Red, by the wine

No final dance

No friendship ring

No way out

No way to win

His mansion crumbling

The fumbling of his words

She never heard

His attempts detoured

Just he and his scribblings

He and his dreams

His memories, of

Forgotten scenes

At last, a will and testament

Is found, amongst the clutter

Every word he ever muttered

Scribed in blood

Covered with crumbs of bread and butter

I bequeath to you, my only daughter

Every word I have ever uttered

I truly loved your rotten mother

She this only Gal, lives a life of a swell

From poverty she came

Richly with out shame

From loving words her Father uttered

Selling them only, one by one

The job would never get done

So she sells them time and time again

Four poems for a dollar

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man

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The Friendship Ring

Reflections on a Lost Love;

A simple silver heart; a simple band of gold
Given to some one, from another passing by
 A token gift of old

Life speeds up and then it drags along
Until all at once It suddenly speeds on by
 And than It is gone

Always meaning to right all our wrong’s
But, yet forgotten
Forgetting the words to every song

While looking through my belongings just the other day
I found a simple little faded note
With some little things attached to it

They dangled

With several strips of transparent tape
Two penny’s, a little silver cross
And what looked to be a gumball ring

They clung there
So intensely 

As I begun to read aloud this note
Signed with good luck and love
Your Gennie

I began to sob so uncontrollably

I had to put it down and wipe my tears away
But, yet somehow it always ended up in front of me
This happened for several days

I knew this note O’ so well

For early on in our relationship
It meant more to me, then I could ever tell

More to me then you will ever know

I had all but forgotten It

Until I verbalized those first few lines
 "Your words, not mine"

Then as a hot and glowing poker

From the fire
I was withdrawn

The steam finally vented from me
 Why did these things you wrote to me
Have no more place in thee?

Why am I a memory to you?
And why are you, but a dream too me? 

You expressed yourself so cleverly way back when

And then

Now why all of this mystery?

But, yet worse then this
 Is the silence in your eyes and
The words that will not speak

No, not one wink

The wheat penny, that is worth more than a single cent;  you were…
You are worth more then gold to me; even much more than platinum, you truly are!

The other penny a  little stamping of JFK right behind the President
You said: “I would always have some one standing right beside of me”
But, yet I stand alone and still

The little silver cross
You were wanting to share your God with me, but He was already mine too
Life did get so hard so fast when your mother past

You know I lost mine too

But, the you that was was already gone
I went through this all alone; It nearly took my life, that night!

And now that gumball ring

Your friendship ring some one special gave it to you

 But, it was not I

You said:

 “No one else has ever had it

and that it belonged with me

That I was your best-est friend!”

And yet

You will not make up with me

Whatever happened

That it became so hard for you

 To talk to me

or

For that matter

For I to talk to you

What is a matter with us?

   

You know how many times I have been walked upon

And kicked around

And I known about your hurts

Too
                  
Did you think

 I no longer had the capacity to forgive

 or

Was it you?

Dear friend, dear wife or X- wife: I am forced to say

You have a funny way of showing your eternal love

To me in this way

So I will bother to send this little note, back your way

 today…
Love your best X- friend, your X- lover, and your X- husband

Sincerely signed Mr. Xed

by

Sinbad the Sailor Man

Four Poems for a Buck

Four Poems for a Buck
Has been selected for publication @Triond.com

http://authspot.com/poetry/four-poems-for-a-buck/


A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man



This poem created and developed @Neopoet.com

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Sinbad the Sailor Man

Member since October 10th 2007


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