The Red, White and Purple Poppy.


I do not want to upset anyone but as we draw near to Rememberance Day I just wanted to share my feelings on the poppies we wear. I wrote this back in 2018.

There are more than one, these days, the red to remember the dead, the white for peace. The white to remember the conscientious objector. During WW1 and WW2 many thought these men were cowards. I do feel they were brave, enough to stand up for their beliefs. Many were tried and shot for not taking up arms. Many spent the war as medics and stretcher bearers unarmed or in the mines though of course not all wartime miners were objctors.

What ever you think, the wars killed them irrespective of their principles. I respect the Red and the White.

The Red and the White.



Both were brave

Each had their own

Principles to up

Hold. Neither…

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White Cliffs of Dover- Freedom isn’t free.


See the source image

See the source image

I have a rendezvous with Death–
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to…

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The brown eyes girl

Come read this great post!


The brown eyes girl

A Poem byCoyote Poetry

Just words.


The brown eyes girl—-

Was a lonely beach,

late Spring brought out the lovers of the sea.

I saw near the moving and dancing Pacific.

A woman and child.

I fell in love with the brown eyes woman,

her lips of sweet honey and

her smile that could light-up the darkest of days.

She danced with the sea and

she sang lullabies to her baby.

Making me jealous of her gentle embrace and

the love for the child.

She pay no attention to me.

I was just a admirer of her beauty.

I watched her feet touch the cold waves,

making a silence wish to know the beautiful woman.

I know life is never fair,

beautiful woman are distance dreams for me now.

I was a lucky observer,

making wishes and holding old dreams.

Beautiful brown eyes girls are…

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Don’t Worry Be Happy – at least for today!


It is 10:00 am and I am just waking up this morning.

I actually slept well last night! I can’t believe it! It’s the first time since Hillary lost in 2016 that I woke up stress free. I feel lighter. I can finally breath a sigh of relief. Soon there will be dignity and reason back in the White House. The crazy bully will hit the road and his bigot minions will go back to hiding under the rocks they crawled out from under.

At this moment in time my cancer antigen numbers are in the normal range and the President elect is not a fascist who wants to deny me healthcare because I have a pre existing condition. Right now, in this moment, the world is a beautiful place.

Oh sure, I’m aware a storm is brewing. Metaphorically, and also a few miles from the state of Florida. But…

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Most Perfect – poem by Paul Vincent Cannon



“To me, every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle.” Walt Whitman

Most Perfect

I pitched this tent some time ago,
it was wherever I went, a home, 
of souling unity or fierce divide,
as life is wont to provoke at whim
it sometimes seems, but today
was that day when all was
smooth creamy vermillion, a 
tangerined exquisite joy and
azure carolling, a hearts carillon 
of songbird treasures, my tent
at once restored unblemished,
the tuning fork as lightning
released, today was that day,
the most perfect day.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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