Karl was my age. He died of Renal failure at 59
In the creamy surf
Casting a line
Whose whistling whine
Whispers a melody on his lips
He is a musician
Who knows the hymnal
Of sounds that sooth
His restless spirit
Playing forever in his mind
He is a woodsman
Where a trail calls
Where a bird sings
Where the pine trees lean
He is a carpenter
Whose hands shape
A translated version
Of his task seen
That his mind observed
He is a humorist
Who creates a laugh
With a stab of razor wit
That sears a surprise
When we know it is coming
He is a fisherman
He is a woodsman
He is a musician
He is a humorist
As the surf curls
When he casts a line
Whose whistling whine
Sings a melody on his lips
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 503 times
Written on 2012-05-31 at 08:32
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A Melody on His Lips
He is a fishermanIn the creamy surf
Casting a line
Whose whistling whine
Whispers a melody on his lips
He is a musician
Who knows the hymnal
Of sounds that sooth
His restless spirit
Playing forever in his mind
He is a woodsman
Where a trail calls
Where a bird sings
Where the pine trees lean
He is a carpenter
Whose hands shape
A translated version
Of his task seen
That his mind observed
He is a humorist
Who creates a laugh
With a stab of razor wit
That sears a surprise
When we know it is coming
He is a fisherman
He is a woodsman
He is a musician
He is a humorist
As the surf curls
When he casts a line
Whose whistling whine
Sings a melody on his lips
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 503 times
Written on 2012-05-31 at 08:32
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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