The lonely damn night.
The lonely damn night. Johnnie in Michigan, drinking alone. Listening to the good jazz and needing nothing. He liked the silence, He loved the Jazz. He went to the jazz man, and he… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Romance
Lingering in a cherish memory.
Lingering in a cherish memory.. 1- Lingering.. I remember you.Those lingering kisses andyour silken tender skin against me.Your love was holy and so sweet. 2- Cherish The aroma of summer flowers upon your… Continue reading
She ambushed my heart.
(For April, the poetry month. Number five.) She ambushed my heart. The poet near the sea sings a lullaby. Tra la, la, la. Was the prettiest gal in Michigan and I loved her… Continue reading
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
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