She was a Spring warm day and I was a Winter storm..
She was a Spring warm day and I was a Winter storm.. She words a pendant of tourmaline on her neck and she never wore shoes. She adored the sea and she loved… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
Ancient floors..
Ancient floors.. In the mirrors of time.Old windows may never be closed. Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of… Continue reading
Katie wrote..
Katie wrote.. Painted words are what the writer understand. Wisp and grasps of sweet dreams are the last myth of emotions for love and words. Dead writer in the Winter of his life.… Continue reading
Almost home..
Almost home.. Took me 26 years and four bloody wars zones and I learn.Monterey was still there,the Pacific was still dancing and you could buy a cup of Irish Coffee on the pier.… Continue reading
Leftover wine..
Leftover wine.. In Austin, Texas. Pretty woman confessed her sins to the bar room poet. He listen to her tale and he caught glimpses of soft tears falling for things that were in… Continue reading
Monterey..
Monterey The letters.. Dear BethI roamed your Facebook site. You are still so beautiful. I told you I was okay. I don’t like to publish to the world. I’m tire, so damn tire. … Continue reading
She serene me with the sweet words of love..
She serene me with the sweet words of love.. Sometime we shroud ourselves in things we shouldn’t have.Torrent love flames will become weaker and you must have something else to hold on to.… Continue reading
She had Angels wings upon her back..
She had Angels wings upon her back.. Her long auburn hair rolled down her long slender back. The tattoos Angel awoke secret dreams and nightmares. Her tattoos rolled down from soft neck to… Continue reading
The sea, the wishes..
The sea, the wishes.. Lovely poet measured him with her gentle blue eyes and she watched how he spoke the words. She listened to his words and she adored the Monterey Dark Poet… Continue reading
Black laced pen..
Blood laced pen… Fight or flee?love or hate?stay or go?Laugh or cry?I wonder what Hemingway remembered in his last moment. Did he remember war or the face of Agnes?My pen does bleed to… Continue reading