Did we give enough? Did we bleed?


Did we give enough?/Did we bleed?

The loco Monterey Poet shouted  to the sea. Did I give enough?/did we bleed? The prettiest girl in Monterey, she laughed at his words. She tossed off her shoes and she joined him. Two almost lovers danced near the sea, for the moon, for the million stars above. She whispered into his wanting ear. Last year, you promised me everything. You promised to stay with me and we stripped bare and I allowed you into the places where true lovers roam and seek. I remember you wrote upon the skin of my legs with ink and touch. “True love, fools love. Wild love, free love. Untamed love, forever love. We are falling into the fragrant of love, I love the allure of your long legs, the curves of your perfect valleys and peaks. I love the way you share the verses of the ancient…

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I need a Spring time kiss, A summer lover


I need a Spring time kiss, a Summer love…

I need a Spring time kiss, a Summer love. I wonder if love was ever real for me? I asked the rising moon, my dearest love, I remember you, were we? just myth and tale on my weary heart. Maybe just a dream?

I am very old and I accepted less,once brave heart is sleeping and in sweet dreams.I hear you whisper to me.

“Our two hearts are one sweet Johnnie. You stole my heart In April and I remember our Spring time. We danced by the lake and we talks and we talks. You listen to me, you made me feel I was important. I listen to you and we made forever promises. You made me believe love is so sweet and I love you my sweetheart. We had a loving Summer, I remembered we never left the house on…

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Come and Enjoy this!!!



(I need a long highway with no-place to go.)

Locked doors, fixed schedules and somber life. Once wild beast can die and forget. Life is open doors, free days and vibrant life.

My beautiful damsel. I hear your words. Life is more than what we believe.
We fall into places where we become entangled in the foolish things. I see you. I hear you. Coyote is remembering.

He was free one. Once he had little and he had all he needed. Now he is weighted down with poundage of useless dreams and goals.

The Gypsy spirit is rising and the wild and sweet Damsel whispering.
Run with the wind and dance with the sea. Find true face and save yourself.

No schedule, no destination and find the places where we are truly alive. Thank you kind friend. I’m listening.
Kind and wonderful Damsel. I hope you can find…

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Love, Ashley.


I am learning that new life
Doesn’t change the past
But it might just be able to heal it.
Welcome to the world, little one
I hope you fall in love with this place.
I’m excited to watch you grow up
To watch the rest of us grow close
Alongside you.


I have some questions, like -
What do you do when loneliness
Feels like the biggest thing in the room
Lately, I can’t tell the difference between
People coming together
And people moving apart.
I answered the phone and realized
I didn’t know where to run
So I wrote myself a reminder that
My life will not give out
Underneath the pressure of loneliness and loss
It will just get heavy.


I spent several months searching
Only to realize I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Right now my portable washing machine
Seems like the…

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Those Who Are Awake -a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: soulvibe.com

“You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?” Rumi

Those Who Are Awake

Awareness comes to those who are awake,
to those who refuse to be imprisoned to
beliefs and the rightness of certain actions,
and to those who have befriended death.

To those who refuse to be imprisoned to,
by the expectations of popular diatribes,
to those who have befriended death
and who stare down life's insoluble foibles.

By the expectations of popular diatribes
one could live one's inner darkness,
and who stare down life's insoluble foibles,
are those who are uncertain winners.

One could live one's inner darkness,
beliefs and the rightness of certain actions
are those who are uncertain winners,
awareness comes to those who are awake.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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A Chance In-Sight

Charmed Chaos

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

Those in-between 
moments of time slipping, 
sliding in-out of shadowy light 
gone forever from fragile sight
fading in-to foggy haze
an in-finite gliding away
reality in-flux with fantasy
vivid fluidity in-memory
ticking, ticking off seconds
minutes and hours in-flight
Life in-turn soaring away, 
in-fused with simple delights
an in-depth clarity of mind 
with a chance in-sight to slip away 
from this earthly plane and write.

Author’s Note:I decided to play around with ‘in’. I like where this took me. I hope you all have a wonderful New Year!

The Sunday Muse #141

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Word of the Day Challenge

The Word of the Day is BALK


  1. hesitate or be unwilling to accept an idea or undertaking. For example: “he balked at such a drastic solution” Similar Word :eschew resist refuse, to be unwilling.


  1. a roughly squared timber beam.”a balk of timber”
  2. the area on a billiard table between the balk line and the bottom cushion, within which in some circumstances a ball is protected from a direct stroke.

Write a poem, story or anecdote inspired by this word.

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Most Importantly, Have Fun. 😀

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Word of the Day Challenge


Today’s Word of the Day is Brilliant.

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