The Eagle Cried

I’m honored to share a poem from my friend, Northern California writer Richard Turton. The Eagle Cried The acrid smell of cordite Still hovered in the air. No breeze to wash away The scent of Satan’s hair.   The Medivac’s are fading now, Their cabins filled with dead. So many grisly pictures Are surging through…

Some of us…

Some of us are creatures of our own imagination, Nightmares for some, Whimsy for others. We love and learn. We feel and move on.   And for those who follow blindly, There is no imagination, There is no real joy, No love, Nothing but hate, And empty promises, Of nothing.

Boat ride

Originally posted on musing:
Rode a boat today It was a great day Feeling the wind through my hair As we skim across the water And through the air makes you feel so free I could just be me Not a care As we watch the world go by Like a rodeo bull rider Riding…

My Winter love

More absolutely wonderful poetry from John Coyote…Click here for: My Winter love.   If you aren’t following johncoyote.wordpress.com you should be. It will touch your heart and soul.