By George M. Stamps
Tell your tale again old man While we sit here by the sea Tell of hot sun and dreams lost to sharks And places you longed to be Speak of the crowds thrilled by the bulls And the blood that darkened the ground Speak of the bars and drinks shared with friends While the maidens gathered around Speak of the lions that roared out their challenge And hot winds that blew so free Tell of the scars crossing your cheeks And confess how the scars came to be In the afternoon we may speak of death And for whom the bell always tolls We may speak of these things into the night While the sea continues to roll Care not what others may offer to say They have lived a coward’s dream They know not what we speak of They found you too extreme
George has been a lover of the written word since childhood. As a freelancer he has written pieces as varying as how to train your dog to poetry. A lover of all things Hemingway he lives in Kentucky and is owned by four cats and a big lovable bulldog named Gus.