Poem Attribution, Goff James, Summer Vacation
Copyright (c) 2021 Goff James – All Rights Reserved
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Thank you for your visit
Art Photography Poetry
Poetry – Senryū – Summer Vacation – A poem by Goff James
Day: January 6, 2022
Open Box – Music quotation of the day
Poetry – Senryū – Love’s Words Fading Call – A poem by Goff James
Poem Attribution, Goff James, Love’s Words fading Call
Copyright (c) 2021 Goff James – All Rights Reserved
View more senryū poems by Goff James
Thank you for your visit
Art Photography Poetry
Letters From Philadelphia
Today is a day to remember the need to defend liberty and democracy from enemies without and within!!!
Letters From Philadelphia
Ink flowed to paper // quills sharpened for signing
As each man took his turn
Some with small delicate writing
John Handcock with large bold flourish
Big enough for the King to plainly see
Risking life and property they signed
Revolution now at hand they took their stand
Quills continued flowing ink to paper
As letters were sent home announcing the news
Telling what was already known before hand
Postmasters kept busy with the flow
As Letters from Philadelphia marked this day
When a declaration of independence
Changed the future of mankind
At home and abroad
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Happy Fourth of July 2018
Stamp Art Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Art
Art
Art is the truth that cuts to the heart
Revealing the very nature of ourselves
Be it both good and evil
Art is the expression of the soul
That breaths life into a brush full of paint
Or notes onto a staff of lines and spaces
Art is the primal scream of the heart
Broken // shattered // lost in remorse
Knowing nothing will ever be the same
Art is the graffiti on the walls // the train cars // the body
Crying out to be noticed //stories to tell
Healing sought in spray cans and needles
Art is the music of the soul breathing notes
Melodies and rhymes // a symbiotic flow
Transcending time and space
Art is the poem from the heart of the poet
Prophetic expressions of love // hate // fear
Conjuring up feelings from deep within
Erupting onto paper…
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I don’t remember how you looked….
(Dreams can become nightmares. Nightmares can become sweet dreams one day. Written in 1984)
I don’t remember how you looked…..
I don’t remember how you looked.
Your eyes were blue, maybe hazel green?
Your hairgolden blondor maybe strawberry red?
I try to describe you and each time I remember less.
Sometime I dream of grasping your hair,
our bodies fighting for the sake of pure pleasure.
You calling out my name, words of love.
You spoke only in the turmoil of sex.
I yearn to see you still.
Your sweet hello’s were sweet and long.
Our goodbyes were long and written deep into the walls of my heart.
I remember your long legs.
You dressed like a woman.
But had thehungerof a child,
seeking the education of the tongue, the touch and the long ride.
I don’t know if you remember me.
I still seek you.
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I serenaded to the paragon of beauty…
(Big Sur, 1992)
I serenaded to the paragon of beauty.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
We were shadows dancing upon the beach. Safe from the peril of real life
I serenaded to the paragon of beauty…
On highway two. The coastal California highway.
Hidden is utopia of land and people untouched by factory or big business.
Big Surf is safe hideaway for the few lucky people close to her.
A hidden beach called Pfeiffer beach in Big Surf.
Allowed the people to be far away from the city and in the safe
hands of the Pacific ocean.
My long legs beauty begged me to take to Big Surf.
She wanted to dance bare to the sea.
Allow her skin to unravel from the burden of real life.
We arrived at Pfieffer beach at noon.
Old and young running in skimpy bathing suits or none.
Few swim in the…
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Broken promises and forgotten places….
Broken promises and forgotten places
A Poem by Coyote PoetryA wise man accept responsibility for his actions.
Broken promises and lost places
I remembered we had dreams of being barefoot in wildflowers fields and love was to be forever.
I could sit and gaze at you for hours. Watch you plant your herbal garden. I loved seeing the pride in your eyes when life was born out of dirt and hard work.
We would lay nude on our soft bed surrounded by thick blankets till late afternoons on Saturday and Sunday. We tried to keep the world at bay. You told me I was your savior, and you were my princess.
I would write poetry and story by the small lake. You would study and peek at my words. I remember your questions. “Johnnie, what are the paradox of being alive. Are we just wasting air and…
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The crossroads of the embrace or the decay?
The crossroads of the embrace or the decay?
A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe decide what we need and not with the quickest of decision. If we knew. It was the last time you would see someone face. Would we release them forever?
The crossroads of the embrace or the decay…..
Wanton Lovers who dances in zealous of a boundless love once are facing each other with
tears and sorrow. The shrine of love had been devoured by blacken memories and poor decisions.
Promises made and broken strand two people on the crossroad of decision. The city sleeps and
two people stand like gunfighters on the edge of right and wrong.. Ready to kill and bury a once
sweet and endearing love.
Young girl holding a stuffed animals with words upon its chest. “I will love you forever.” She asked. Do you remember when you ran home to…
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Nothing will last forever….
Nothing will last forever
A Poem by Coyote PoetryWritten in 1989
Nothing will last forever….
She sat alone. Her lingering tears falling down her beautiful face. I have told her often. Nothing last forever. Even the strongest love weakens to just memories of things that are lost and can’t be found.
I forgot to tell her. The irony of love is. The goodbyes are written and engraved on the walls of our hearts forever. The allure of love makes us fearless and foolish, then can vanish and be absorbed by life and bad actions.
Today she asked me. Where did the crazy man of yesterday disappear to? Where did my desperate lover who yearned for my touch and kiss go? Why is love vengeful and cold?
I told her. Like all dreams and goals. They fade away to become distance memories in a life where you fall…
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The Reluctant Poet 