Forever young at heart

Rhapsody Bohème

Are you afraid of getting older? Do you look back and wonder where the time has gone while you fill and replace your beauty routine with anti aging products and things to retain the standard you set for yourself? We get so conditioned about what beauty is, whether it is from commercials or models that dictate a certain height and weight, and a certain look and bone structure. In recent years things started to change a little, including full figured women and a look that sways from the typical norm. Older men and women, gray foxes with silver locks have grazed the screen and slowly it’s becoming more acceptable, although many have their set expectations of what beauty is to them. I came across this beautiful quote from Richard Gere, and maybe, just maybe it can remind you to be gentle with yourself and know that true beauty comes from…

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Poems & Prose


i look at myself in the photo,

not because i wish to look at myself,

but because i remember the doubt behind my smile,

the anxiety behind my eyes,

the questions that ran through my mind,

although I can’t detach myself from those feelings,

i discern the distance i’ve traveled.

–e.l. jayne

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Beautiful Journey..


(Downtown Basel, 1979)

Beautiful journey.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"A wise person ensure they take the good road."      

              Beautiful journey.

A thousand roads to choose.
We can ride into darkness without fear of the consequences or
take the cold and heartless road.
Leaving all things of value behind us.
Careless life and thoughts leaving good people forgotten and lost.

The easy way is more convenience.
Dirty dreams and woman can darken the soul.
The sin of living will leave you on a lonely road.

A beautiful journey.
Is chance or luck?
Opening new doors of love and friendship.
Allow new dreams and hope to overtake things lost.

A thousand roads to choose.
 I choose the dark eyed woman who made me laugh.
She dances in the light of the city without fear.
She love the sea and the quiet of the night.
Love without fear and she…

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I found a twenty-five year old storage bag. Filled with old photos and old letters. I went through them, one by one. Each photo showed me a stranger, who lived and now he was myth and tale. I found some letters from my Italian beauty Marcella.
So sad, I forgot her name and her face. 27 years ago, she was my muse, my wish in Monterey. We had California, we had free days and we didn’t want to own anything.

“I remember you my beautiful Marcella, I remember my barefoot honey who love to dance with the Pacific, who love to drink the tequila and loved to be kissed my California sun.
I showed her Big Sur, the River Inn. I remembered she lay nude by the Pfiefer beach and she asked me. Johnnie , is the soldier life, the life for the poet? Please find something to do…

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Savior, liar and sinner…


  Savior, liar and sinner…

Once I was saved.
Pretty red-hair girl took my hands and she whispered.
I love you Johnnie. Please don’t die, please live for me.
She held me tightly and she sang gentle words of love to me.
I miss you my red-hair beauty. You were my savior.

I never show her my real face.
I loved the road, the drink and the flesh.
I needed confusion and disappointment.
Today I would tell her If I could.
Dear Leona.
You were perfect and I was the fool.
I was a liar.
Seeking the Hemingway death,
just waiting to run again.

I went back to Ann Arbor and you were gone.
I did the sinner’s prayer.
“Dear Leona.
Precious lady.
Old dogs return home, wanting things lost.
Thank you dear friend.
You were my safe place for a wild man seeking everything and nothing.
I pray you…

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The first day of Spring poetry.


The first day of Spring poetry

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"Some mini-poems."    

We went to the sea and I wrote your name and I love you into the sand.

You smiled and you kissed me once, you kissed me twice.

You wrote in the sand, I love you more…


Dear Spring, you are near.

Kind Spring, the cold days, are almost gone.

I am waiting for the first sun kiss of the season.

I need to feel warm again.


I want to fall in love again.

I want a kind woman who love to sing and dance for the midnight stars.

Please dear moon, send me a kind woman.

One who loved the whiskey and she can make me laugh again.


Darkness had stole my heart and my mind.

The anger is overtaking my sanity.

Should I stay or go?

Am I the devil?…

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The Way The Sunlight Played a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: domeckopol at

“The light of morning decomposes everything.” Haruki Murukami

The Way The Sunlight Played 

This morning I was captivated
by the way sunlight played so
joyously upon the leaves before me 
and danced with the shadows,
dispelling some while welcoming
others, exposing everything and
inviting all to join the resplendent 
moment, beckoning me to delight
and sing like a bird who has no
concern other than to celebrate life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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