By Charles Robert Lindholm

Is Time
To “UnTrump America”,
Removing Stains. Reversing Trump

Trump’s Memory
From America’s History,
Heal The Wounds Trump

Copyright © 2020  Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 02.25.2020 – 8:00 p.m.

Thank God The Nightmare Is Over – For Now!!
Please Come Explore My Archives!  If You Enjoy My Works, Please Follow Me!

Some Johnny Cash song and a poem for Jenny.


She used to love me a lot…

I saw my ancient love and she was drinking the whiskey straight, sitting alone at the Purgatory Inn in Ann Arbor. I told the waitress, send the pretty lady a drink of her want. The waitress looked into my eyes and she whispered. Johnnie, she knows, you are here. She is just waiting for you. I wouldn’t waited for a coyote like you. You left Jenny three times for your damn war and now why did you return? Damn coyotes love the long highway, new kisses and the unknown. Did you learn anything Johnnie? I embrace the waitress, kissed her forehead and I told her. Dear Leona, I learn no-one win in war, we are born alone and we will die alone. I know now, love is life, life is love too late. I know, you can’t return from the places you left…

View original post 400 more words

The last chance saloon…


Last chance saloon….

I was the Monday night closer manager at the Purgatory Inn. I was counting the money and a pretty lady was waiting for me. I watched her roll her cigarette and I enjoyed the view of her black lingerie stocking on her long legs. Her long black hair reached down her back and I told her. 1/2 hour sweeties, do you want a drink?

She smiled and she told me. “Whiskey straight, maybe a double, maybe one or two ice cubes.” I poured three Black Velvet whiskey shots into  a regular drink glass and I dropped two ice cubes in. I went to her and I handed the drink to her. She over-reached the drink, caressed my hand. She whispered, hurry up Johnnie. Never polite to allow a girl to drink alone.  

I finished my work and her drink was empty. I brought the Black Velvet…

View original post 357 more words



(A unforgettable muse)


Once we were the crazy ones. We believed in love and we believed in forever. We were sweet Summer red wine and discoverer of new and unknown places.

I remember your beautiful face, your kind and sweet voice whispering to me. Johnnie, live life without restraint and don’t allow fake walls of liars to make you blind.

I remember us. I remember how you loved silence and being near the sea. You were my goddess of the Pacific and in sweet dreams I can see you releasing your white cotton dress in the midnight hours and dancing with the Monterey bay waves.

You told me often. Bliss and kiss. Last freedom we can know. Johnnie, when love is near. Love hard, like tonight is our last hours of life. You and I. We intertwined our two lives. We love the sea and we love the free…

View original post 160 more words

Be My Forever

Don’t Miss Walt’s – Be My Forever!!!

Walt's Writings

Be My Forever

Stay with me
grow old with me

when you’re cold
I’ll warm your feet

we will share
what we see

we’ll be the best
we can be
just you and I

our hands will age
our bodies will change
but our love will stay strong

we’ll keep singing our songs
when our hair ain’t so long
if you’ll be my forever

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2021 All Rights Reserved

View original post

She Was – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


At dVerse Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to paradox using inspiration from two sources, my choice is Paul Dunbar.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Beyond Meaning or The Resolution of Opposites

Photo: st2.depositphotos.com

“I am the fool in the morning, thou art my slave in the night.” Paul Dunbar (The Paradox)

She Was

Dressed of innocence in the light
she revelled as mistress by dark,
when maxis gave way to minis in taxis,
water surrendered to whiskey, and
walk gave way to strut and swagger
of rounded hips, explicit though hidden,
between cotton and leather, though
lace was ambivalent and undecided,
her breathtaking purity as decadence
or sultry vamp as coy as a maiden,
she was as enigmatic as any code
yet unbroken though known.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

View original post