Farewell National Poetry Month

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I lived as Hemingway, writing and drinking

with cats around me.

I’ve sobered and said my, “Farewell to Arms.”

What? Were you expecting, “The Old man and the Sea?”

 

I was paranoid like Poe, always looking over my shoulder—

over the façade I wore.

Finding tragedy in beauty, I wrote, and I wrote—

embracing this, “Nevermore.”

 

I’ve traveled like Twain,

only to stop a few years later.

I’ve sounded artsy to impress the masses,

a clutz who tripped over the equator.

 

I became silent like Frost, my hand interpreting

the voice in my head.

Writing about things all around us,

became the path I chose instead.

 

I am the son of hard work and determination;

a brother to run to in any situation.

I am a grandson to legends,

their eyes watching from heaven.

 

I’ve lived the dreams of others, perhaps I found my calling,

and didn’t know it.

For now and until we meet again.

Forever yours,

 

Nobody’s Poet.

Unclassified Poetry

John Reyes View All →

"A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure." ~Charlie Chaplin

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