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Poetry – ‘Never Ever Let It Be Forgot’ – A poem by Goff James

Originally posted on Art, Photography, Fiction and Poetry:
https://john-coyote.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/never-ever-let-it-be-forgot-1-4-gmj-1.jpg https://john-coyote.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/never-ever-let-it-be-forgot-2-4-gmj-2.jpg https://john-coyote.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/never-ever-let-it-be-forgot-3-4-gmj-1.jpg https://john-coyote.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/never-ever-let-it-be-forgot-4-4-gmj-1.jpg Image and Poem Attribution © goffjamesart/photography/poetry Click here to read more poetry by Goff James. goffjamesart.wordpress.com All rights reserved

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Liars moon lullaby…

 Liar’s moon lullaby I told the liar’s moon, eleven anthrax  shots given to my by the Army. I have forgotten more than I remember. I search my deaden mind for faces, for the… Continue reading →

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You are in Paris and I’m here…

You are in Paris and I’m here   A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words and thoughts.                         You are in Paris and I’m here I hurt myself again today and I allowed you… Continue reading →

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Tender loving care…

  Tender loving care A Poem by Coyote Poetry Real love is given without the desire of reward.                                      Tender loving care She had big blue eyes. She sat on my lap at the… Continue reading →

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The Sun Melts

Amazing words shared by a talented writer. The sun melts Crimson pools spill across the horizon staining clouds oranges, pinks, purples A beacon? Welcome, Night The moon waxing, waning, in a perpetual dance… Continue reading →

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Windmills of your mind…

   Windmills of your mind Grandfather told me often, life move quickly, make the good day last longer and forget the bad days. Now old age is upon me, the windmills of my… Continue reading →

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Why Do Violins Look So Alone?

Originally posted on malleable art:
I was a mile away, smoking pot in Carl’s car Yet the song wafted over and I felt fuckin’ zen Clambered out the door for fresh air that…

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My grandfather’s rose bush…

    My grandfather’s rose bush My grandfather loved his roses. He would care for them and ensure they survived the Winter. He was a story-teller and he loved his story of the… Continue reading →

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You are my Springtime…

You are my Spring time     Cold days and colder nights, heavy clothing burden, I shall forget. You stand in the April sun, showing me, tender shoulders blessed by the sun and… Continue reading →

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Last person standing….

Last person standing A Poem by Coyote Poetry (Not a happy prose poem. A poem to create logic and question my friend. We are walking on a dangerous edge. Nuclear Winter, new sickness and… Continue reading →

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