I want you and a beautiful Holly Troy song.
I want you… 1- She ran into the field of wildflowers. She stirred his eyes; she stirred his mind and heart. He loved her wild eyes and the questions in her voice. She… Continue reading
German September sweet wine.
(For April, poetry month. Poem number four.) Germany September sweet red wine. 1- September was merciful. Warm days, quiet days and time to sing, dance and drink. The Children were celebrating the September… Continue reading
The masquerade.
(April, poetry month. Number three.) The masquerade. The masquerade. Was a blue moon night in New Orleans and no-one wanted to show their real face. Beer, wine and liquor was plentiful. Women were… Continue reading
Luck and folly.
(April, poetry month. Number two. Luck and folly.) Luck and folly. I told the Wisconsin River. Thank you for this beautiful day. I watched beautiful Kathy dance on the rocks, allowing the river water… Continue reading
April, poetry month. Number one. She was an eloquence woman.
April is the month for poetry. My goal is 30 poems for the month of April. This is number one. Eloquence woman. She asked me. Johnnie, you come to me and we talk… Continue reading
The Seven Sisters Cliffs of Dover.
The Seven Sisters Cliffs of Dover. My father left my world in January 2020. A WW2 veteran, he stood with his brothers. He went willingly to war and he knew the cost, could… Continue reading
Mother Nature.
Mother Nature. Chief Pontiac, once questions the white man ways. He asked the white leaders. Do you hate the forest? Will you be content when the great forest is gone? Will you be… Continue reading
The days of freedom. And a beautiful Paloma Faith song.
The days of freedom. Yesterday was the first warm days of Spring. I opened the doors and I opened the window. I allowed the air of Spring to re-fresh the house. I took… Continue reading
She used to love me a lot. And an amazing Johnny Cash song.
She used to love me a lot. I saw my ancient love, and she was drinking the whiskey straight, sitting alone at the Purgatory Inn in Ann Arbor. I told the waitress, send… Continue reading
Delicate flower.
Delicate flower. I was a worn and torn man, receded into the whiskey bottles and the dead-end dreams. I sang lullabies of thing lost and could not be found no-more. A delicate and… Continue reading