Cyranny's Cove


I really like good biographical movies.

Especially when I know just enough about the person’s life to get interested, but not enough to see things coming…

I had been waiting for Radioactive for awhile, and this afternoon seemed fit to watch it, wrapped in my favorite blanket. Based on the novel Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss, it revisits the life of Marie Sklodowska-Curie, from her first meeting with Pierre Curie to her death.

I’ve read that the movie had caused some controversy when it came out, because of some inacurate historical facts, and I don’t know exactly which story parts were apparently bent a little, to make the film more interesting. But I found it fascinating, and as it often happens when I get lost in the life of such an inspiring person, I felt very little.

It is not a bad…

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{the ragged, the jagged}

Poems & Prose

{the ragged, the jagged}
if he’s startled of me in the fresh beams of the sunrise,
he’ll never recognize me under the cover of the indigo moon,
constantly seeking proof,
yet the greatest things in life cannot be proven:
love, feelings, dreams…
the shape of one’s soul,
the ragged, the jagged parts of me,
the parts of me that make me whole.
will you become merely a nostalgia of mine?

--e.l. jayne

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Russian Roulette….


Russian roulette….

Beautiful young woman danced on a stage on the border of Austin Texas,
moving like a beautiful butterfly in the breeze.
She held the attention of the men holding tightly to good whiskey and the gin.

A religious man sat with me drinking Jack Daniel straight.
He told me the rapture is coming and it is too late.

I held my whiskey tight,
watched the young woman on stage.
I waved a five dollar bills. She came near.
Brought my face close to her face. She whispered. “Thank you Johnnie. You are a gem.”‘

The darkness had overtaken me.
I told my sisters many ways to die,
can play Russian roulette with a mirror or slowly poison the blood and the mind.
Fast death or slow death. Old world is playing Russian roulette with us anyway.

I have watched old Soldiers die from wounds by the old wars.

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Do for love….

Come Enjoy!


Do for love…..

Pretty words, long dances into the midnight hours, tasty kisses and warm embrace is what you are to me.
Once we believe in nothing and today. You and I. Believe in the magic of love.
Love me right, love me wrong. Just stay till we can’t love no-more.
We have pretty pictures, kind memories. Let’s create a everlasting love my sweet. Life can be hard and you are the sweetness I need.

Do it for love my darling. Turn on the soft songs and let’s dance in the darkness. You and I. Let’s find the places where love is safe and love can be safe.


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Big Sur a-dreaming…

Come enjoy this post and the song – Breathe


Big Surf a-dreaming….

A un-mark road with a small sign will lead you to a hidden beach on Highway 2.

A small path will lead you to paradise.

A beach not safe for swimming.

But climbing into the rocks. Being one with the sea..

The waves will dance around you. You can sit and write.

The view has no equal for the eyes to see.

Pfiefer Beach is a  nude beach.

Famous for beautiful and sexy people.

The sea will steal the hunger from your eyes.

To view the beauty of the naked young woman on the sand..

I wish to drink wine at the River Inn.

Listen to the music and hear the voices of the Poets and musicians.

I was crazy then. Not so crazy today.

I remember when me and my friend chasing the poor people off Pfiefer Beach.

We were full of vodka and hate.

Told the world to f-off…

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Come and Enjoyed the verses and the song SWAY



The Poet’s wish. Never sweet and never easy.  A dancing beauty moved with the song. Her hips moving slowly with the tempting words. The dancing damsel, she knows she was the Hemingway’s prayer and wish to the waiting poet.
He watched her. Her black dress cut down to her knees allowing his eyes to see perfect legs wrapped in the lace and silk. She danced shoeless and alone. Swaying with the song and her eyes closed.

The Poet craved to join her in the dance but he understood. Women, are uncertain in their need and wants. Better to allow the free butterfly to come to you if she desire.

The song is done and she looked at the waiting poet. Her river blue eyes are dangerous and wonderful. She walked to him and she asked. Johnnie, are we drunk because of the whiskey or me?

Wise Poet told her…

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