The prettiest gal in town…


The prettiest gal in town

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"Just words."

The prettiest gal in town….

She wore her Summer dresses year around. She loved the Monterey weather and she always carry a smile to share with me.  She shared her kind words and she would listen to me.

She would sit in silence and I would speak my poetry to her. We would discuss the sea, John Donne, Hemingway and Salinger. I would find her waiting and alone by the Monterey pier. Her ginger hair laying gently on her soft shoulders and being sun-kissed by the evening falling sun.

She asked me often. Why do you seek me everyday? I am not the prettiest girl you know? The pretty girls, do love you. The dark poet who demand nothing and write by the sea.

I told her. You are the prettiest gal in Monterey. Your heart of gold…

View original post 211 more words

Lilac wine…


Lilac wine

She whispered, maybe, maybe not. Let’s allow the lilac wine, to write the story for us.


Life is many colors, we can paint her black, we can paint her red, we can paint her white. We decide the beginnings, the endings.

Let’s fall in love, we have the lilac wine, we have time. The sea is near and the night is long. Please make me believe, love is near. Please whispered to me, who you are and where we are going.

I am intoxicated by your face, your beautiful voice steal my thoughts. You are my heaven, my safe place. You are my moon, you are my morning rising sun. You are my reasons to be brave and unafraid. I love you more than the desire to give-up.

                             Dancing Coyote

View original post

Naming Grief

The Wild Heart of Life

How do you talk about a sunset, without sounding like every conversation about sunsets?
At the market, the checker she says, The sunset is beautiful—I love that I can watch it from this window.
I say, Oh yes, the colors are stunning. Those pinks, those yellows.
Then, when I get home, my mother-in-law, she says, Did you see the sunset?
I say, Oh yes, the colors are incredible. So bright.
Words replaced but constant in their meaning.
How do you talk about a sunset? How do you talk about anything, really?
About grief.
About a caged bird who sings of freedom—
Clipped wings that do not dip into a sunset or a sky.
Everyone asks how we are, but everyone is doing terribly—
How do you talk about grief?
Lovely and lonely and lyrical,
Grief rolls me about inside her mouth like a small pebble
Teaching me to be quiet…

View original post 257 more words

Distorted from downpour


Without you there, rubbing against my emptiness

I am a scream

begun without end

I may close my mouth

I may purse my lips and paint them

I may say yes please and thank you very much

and still dial your number

that no longer exists

just to hear it ring

in my mind



three times

it may be you

on the other end

picking up, I can hear the lint

of the connection stretching like walkers on wire

a crackle, a fizz, the ghosting hiss of you

what are you saying?

Rolling down bled city streets with lights

hanging like old bottles, catching stray saline

I strain to hear

through ceaseless whiteout of rain

it is yellow against brown glass

distorted from downpour

slapping wetly in time to lost rhythm

pirate radio in storm, trying to reach land

crackle, fizz, pop, static … spreading her fingers


View original post 122 more words

52 days until Spring – Eugenia

Go Dog Go Café

A collection of Winter haiku –

winter amusing

laughing snowflakes side by side

repeat the applause

doldrums without end

downfall of the four seasons

twisting of passions

trees laden with snow

skyward moon spectacular

winter takes the stage

winter mysteries

giggling snowflakes keep secrets

luring us in close

moments from the past

porcelain snowflakes abound

a trove of treasures

© Eugenia Hoffman

Eugenia enjoyed a dedicated career in the insurance industry for over 20 years being rewarded both professionally and personally. Now it’s time for Eugenia to follow her dreams by doing things she enjoys…spending time with family, learning, sharing, traveling, and writing poetry. Eugenia’s writing and creative endeavors can be found at her blogs, Eugi’s Causerie and Eugi’s Potpourri. Eugenia has authored eBooks Fanciful Delights and Mama, me and Mother Nature, and also has writings at Spillwords Press, PoetrySoup, and

Photo byEmmanuel LamboleyfromPexels

View original post

In the Early Light of Dawn

Charmed Chaos

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

“You fling it open for the first time/ but I’m gone” -M Kahf Wall

Though now gone from your tender sight
if you look for me in early light of dawn
when colors are afire in a painted sky
and birds are greeting the coming morn
you will see my dear face high in white clouds
looking for you to say hi

And in those times remember when
we were inseparable, you and I
remember the profound unquestioning quiet
in my unwavering brown eyes
remember the warmth of my furry body
pressed close to your own in the night

Grieve not for me for I will always be near
for our two hearts are inextricably bound
and though you must shed oceans to heal
and there will be days of immense grief,
once the rushing tides of sadness ebb away
here I will be by…

View original post 39 more words

A Photograph

A Walk Down Memory Lane!

Frank Solanki

Do you remember
All those crazy times?
All the crazy things
That we did with crazy minds?
Do you remember
How crazy I used to be?
How crazy you would make me?
Oh those crazy days
Do you remember
How I used to laugh?
Now all that’s left
Is a photograph

Do you remember
How my eyes lit up
Whenever I saw you?
How my smile widened
Whenever I spoke to you?
Do you remember
How we lay side by side
Gave names to clouds
And watched them float away?
Do you remember
How you used to laugh?
Now all that’s left
Is a photograph

Do you remember
The day when we first met?
The first words we spoke?
The first fight we had?
Do you remember
The last time we met?
The last chat we had?
The last time we loved?
Do you remember
How we used to laugh?

View original post 7 more words

That I Might – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


At dVersed Laura is hosting poetics with an invitation to think about endings, and, using an ending of a known poem to begin our own.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Beginning at the end

I have chosen “Call me to lie down in fragrance.” from the poem ‘Season of Lilac’ by Dave Margoshes


“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.” Zelda Fitzgerald

That I Might

Call me to lie down in fragrance
beyond where the wattle's spring
glow speaks of love immortal,
that I might rise impassioned
with a scent of all my tomorrows
vested in your every movement,
dance your fingers slowly upon me
that my life would spill over.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

View original post

The Stupid

I Write Her

it’s taken years
decades even
to silence the frustration within me
fomented by the uneducated, misinformed and willfully ignorant

the things they say are detrimental
to our well-being and existence on this planet
cohabitation with those who wish us harm
is not the kind of world i want to live in

they wouldn’t know an informed decision
even if it came up and introduced itself
no progressive action stands a chance in the hands of the stupid
as they continue to breed disinformation

while i fear for our future
i’m learning to let go of unproductive anger
and turning off the desire to engage
or even trying to educate a non-existent intellect

they are beyond help
they are the die-hard ignorant amongst us
i will leave it to the professionals
to change their minds and hearts

View original post