On a quiet road

It was a quiet road

pages and led, clouds drifting 

the number eleven following us close behind 

giant gray moth and holidays with wings wide spread

you said something surreal, I can almost hear it now

something profound

I jerked the wheel caroling us off and down

down and onward into that bliss of nothing

your favorite song came over the radio

I can almost hear it now

I laughed as we crashed into the stones below

then into the night we walked off our uniforms

onward into the halo over Malibu

swearing out two thumbs back up into heaven

nothing but sand and time between us

then you whispered something I will never forget

just the two of us walking

night and ocean fed 

out of the crash and back onto a quiet road

where the tide and temporals took us both

slow, laughing our way leisurely home

Reviews

[Mari' Emeraude]

Days of youthful memories spent in California were served up in this feast of "delicious poetic imagery." Nice!

[Perdition]

Born in Sacramento, a military brat so I was only a puppy when we transferred to Hawaii but yes, I’ve been back to California more times than I can fathom and every time was beautiful especially going down route one on western coast. I take it you spent wonderful days in California? Thank you for reading, and I’ll definitely come back to read your poetry and review as well. One western coast to another.

[FGFRANKLIN]

This was creepy romantic, sort of like Romeo and Juliet meets the Hunger Games vibe. Brutally seductive. I enjoyed the read.

[Perdition]

Hahaha...that is exactly how I intended...okay it wasn't but once begun who can stop the processs..it must play out to the fullest or worst end and maybe..just maybe we might get lucky enough to reach someone. Thank you sir..Coffee time over I take it?

[FGFRANKLIN]

Oh, no. All day long is coffee time. I drink a pot a day at least. I make it and then transfer it to a thermos to keep it fresh all day so I never drink any stale or overheated java. It's strange what the public may or may not like. The critics certainly haven't figured it out yet. And sometimes (if you're lucky) you may attract a "cult following" like Dr. Seuss or Edward Lear. John Prine had a lot of fans. I am still a Prine fan. But his music was never syndicated or even played much on the radio. The poetry of John Donne would most likely have been lost but for a renewal of interest spurred by T.S. Eliot. We should all be so fortunate as to have such an influential fan among our readers. In the end I think luck has almost as much to do with the appreciation of great art as sheer talent and technique.

[Perdition]

I remember Mr. Prine, a favorite as well and we only lost him recently .. a couple years or so? Maybe less. I would say he was a great slow draw like Leonard Cohen ..transcendent stories and words that bucked at the soul. Same as the simple pleasure in that pot of coffee and I couldn't agree more but I think if you keep barking at the door then luck finds you or maybe like a lot of us you don't consider it so lucky as the luck that finds starts to own you and the fans are drawn by their own desperations. They want answers where there are none but inside themselves and we become a type of reflection..although in poetry that iis rare Mr. Bukowski and Billy Collins, Sometimes anonymity has a wonderful ring to it when most readers believe in answers where we just want to express what is desperate to get out. It's still a wonderful privilege and honor to be read or to touch someone's life. I remember the coffee pot days with the straw syndrome as well. Might have to make myself some Peete's tonight or just a good extra-dirty martini ..whatever makes the muse happy Enjoy the barrel and lift that cup for ole Dr. Seuss and his Cat in the Hat. As for T.S. Elliot at the bank...wow, what a story and his poor wife. Mr. Fitzgerald and Zelda too. Makes you wonder about our pen until we go to pick it up doesn't it?..hahaha. JAVA TIME!! Bring in the barrels !!

[Ken e Bujold]

reading this is akin to taking a rollercoaster ride with Henley and Frey after a peyote-laced dinner of lobster and fries. just a peaceful easy feeling through tequila sunrise of witchy eyes and lyin' thighs. think i will ride it all the way to winslow arizona, where's a girl in a flatbed ford ... ah you know

ken

[Perdition]

...: slowing down to take a look at you?." They love to say "maybe" don't they..hahha. An Eagles fan Wow!! who knew?. Get out of the cab Lebowski..lol. Lobster and fries huh? Definitely, a strange place to put peyote but I've found stranger, now what was her name again, I should remember...I we gpt married that weekend or was it a Tuesday ??.. Ah well. we'll leave it at that ...hahaha Thank you Ken. I would venture it would be quite a successful restaurant if tried, Was that the song Jackson Browne gave away and Frey finished because Browne couldn't think of what to do with it? All these questions and more. answered on the next if "The Price is Right." still clapping my hands at the review..lol. well served.

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

Awesomely phrased inked with great poetic eloquence and free verse cadence and depth wow! Kudos!!

Plz also read and comment my newest poem too

[Perdition]

Nope..and you can't me either..lol. Of course, but will be on the phone for a little while or so. so will get on it soon after..not long. Thank you for the kind words, they were kind, right? ..😄

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

My comment meant deserved praise and compliments on your poetry so I don't understand what you meant by nope, or that I cant me neither.

[Perdition]

Humor is the best compliment of all...It was a beautiful review!! If you know me then you know my sense of humor and then you know me personally which is the greatest gift one Poet can give to another so I was saying in my own silly way ..which was true that I would be back and that your review was wonderful. I'm not the norm nor am I going to change that, unfortunately. I am sorry if it hurt your feelings but hopefully, this message will help. I hope you can understand that and appreciate it. Sorta like making my father laugh from the belly. When he laughs from the gut I know I've got him. He's a very serious man and I am his only son so ..when I say "Nope", I mean that I hope to convey in terms of "Who on earth would write such a thing?" Then I come to mindfulness, and you can understand that your review was worth more than pearls. It was more beautiful than poets. We should think outside of that norm, it may not always work out but at least we tried, and as Poets, we should always be honing our skills, Your review was worth far more than what I could write at the moment, so I used what was my best option which is humor. :) Appreciated! Going to read it now and try not to think of this as a remark on your review. Poetry should be evocative and Evocative poets should always be working at whatever skills they have. Thanks for hopefully understanding .

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

No, i wasn't hurt, just confused and curious what you meant. Ok cheers and best wishes,

[emmajoygreen]

Seems the poet-artist has landed two feet firmly in the ground.. wrapped as always should be in a down of smooth understanding. Great tale, ever different.

[Perdition]

I have ten other versions that say otherwise and all of them are perfect and ready for the stage… the madness had to return sooner or later but this morning I have “Little Black Wings” calling me out. “They’re late and they all know it”…I wish I could share every last one. Maybe in a month I’ll post the last one… truly the finest version. How I missed this madness little one… Hope those “I’m new” skies are smiling and thank you for the kind visit. Halloween’s a coming!! Halloween “and nothing more”… lol. I’m dressing up as a Quill 😊

[emmajoygreen]

Very appropriate!