Best California Poems
California Dreaming
5/9/2025
Her memories like the softest, velvet clouds, gliding swiftly, were being
Dried from their moistness.
How grateful she was to follow.her dreams to California, freed from their
cold, and most unhelpul voices.
It took her some time to let go of old friends and warm, familiar faces,
And she knew it was her soul’s relentless, choices.
On the airplane, tears fell as the plane ascended, and she realized, heading
into the sunset, the strength of her own inner voices.
ground soppy
orange poppy
Every bend in the winding cliff road
Brings a new vista, a new post card.
Crashing waves that beat on ancient rocks..
Depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.
It brings an appreciation for life,
Begs to find the truth that allows peace.
It carries you to another dimension...
The past, present and future meld as one.
Walk awhile in the demanding surf,
Hear the ocean roar its ancient secrets.
Accept the grains of sand that cling
Like they did a thousand years ago.
For me, no other place can reach out
Allowing the vastness of spirit to soar.
Time and the minutia of life slips away...
Healing wounds, and giving perspective.
a well crafted necklace
surrounds your neck
(long
smooth
inviting)
delivers subtle accusations
of adultery…
…cannot be faithful,
only you alone must endure
these constant
passing’s by of tempting selections;
forced still
head down
layered
like a deck of cards hopes for a queen,
curses the joker.
slowly i pull back your fastened ribboning
the very fabric that hides
your forbidden fluid, ceremonial aroma
floats orchids across the breeze
plucked perfectly from your long stem
to pour all of you
fulfills
all of me...
selfish me!
scent trembles
excites my senses
eyes seduced to closure,
your taste never alien…
no longer forcing away your temptation
firmly grasping
caressing your thin waist
exiling premature hesitation
lifting,
tilting,
our mouths become one
pouring every ounce passionately
a want that cause angels to turn,
afflicting the harvest moon to blush.
swishing you around my tongue
leaving a masque of satisfaction
(clouds losing breathe)
exhaling slowly
looking into your eyes
pleasant is this longing
(smoke barrels, oak crates, blackberries)
passing one simple statement:
“I am thankful for bottles of Merlot”
DEI is not only racist and unconstitutional but it puts lives at risk!
Cruising southwards to LA from Sac
a midnight filled with songs ‘n Luna,
light-etching hills in a black infernal…
It was a leviathan’s back on which I
felt the tires unrolling a chilled grief ~
Owlish-full, a hypnotic moon, ‘n Dido
reminiscing tunefully about surrender
negating white flags and loves forlorn...
Inside the eye, a wispy face smiled hi
and gently slid open a papery fusuma...
Dazed, I held her gaze, so undead
Round face framed in softest ether
exhaling cool peppermint to inhale ~
Amaranth rains of fleeting gardenia,
mildly-scented dawn's astral gloam ***
(11/2/2020)
The Fires in California:
The fire of God is falling, it brings the purification of God. Spotless, and
without blemish. The holiness, the Glory of God is coming. I demand
holiness, says the Lord, I demand it. The vapors of God is coming,
the grass will be withered, the ground will be scorched, the leaves
will be gone, the ocean will bubble and be boiling. Waters are giving
way and in the high areas, the mountains are disappearing. The ice
will be melting by the Glory of God.
Angels will be about you, some of which you will see. Nothing will
harm you, the time is speeding up. You won’t know the season by the seasons. The world will be spinning out of control. They will look up
and see the Son of God coming. The will hear the trump of God and
see Him coming.
Fire and vapor coming out of the ground, muddy looking, bubbling.
Spewing out fire. Fire shooting out where it used to be water. The
mountains are being scorched where trees were. Towers on top of
mountains will melt to nothing. Cracks in the mountains opening up
and breaking up. All over the world there will be news flashes of
people down on their knees, turning to the Lord.
Whole nations turning to the Lord. Down on their knees to God.
It will be red hot in the desert and for fear, people turning to God.
The sand almost melting. The ones who used to follow Him will be
coming back.
There will be a black cloud covering the world, angels of the Lord
everywhere, standing all around, everywhere. People on street corners
repenting on their knees and crying out to the Lord. There will be
a great repentance, millions of people to be saved all over the world.
The Glory of God is coming; I am choosing the ones to take my Glory
He said. I need you to take my Glory out. He will send people and
prophets, and preachers into the 1040 window. We are to go
across America sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Keep your
eyes on Me saith the Lord, not on the world. Look to the future
not to the past. Let your light so shine. Stay close to Me, don’t
be separated from Me, you are the branches and I am the vine.
I am coming quickly.
Allen & Marilyn Jennings
As a kid in Southern California
I loved rainy days.
However much it rained,
I wanted it to rain more.
Mom had us buckle up our rain boots to go to school -
And put on our hooded yellow raincoats.
Mrs. Stillman, our second grade teacher, made popcorn on rainy days.
On the way home,
Gutters became rivers.
Leaves became boats.
Small lakes formed in the backyard.
Sometimes, rarely, we enjoyed thunder and lightning.
How fun it was to get soaked,
And then to come in, shower, and put on dry clothes,
And watch the rain through the window.
On the day after, the sidewalks were littered with worms,
But there was no smog, and, suddenly, the San Gabriel mountains appeared.
Rain was a rare treat
For a kid in Southern California.
Then Margarita gave her father mind,
for she was very happy being home.
Hence three years placed in a covent confined
where she's had little use of brush and comb.
Removed from places she loved most to roam,
the fields and plains of fine San Luis Ore.
For loving Yankee, sealed in great round dome,
but home with father, spirit high did soar.
Was she wrong thinking happy home thoughts, priest,
when she should be now praying while on knees?
But really she now didn't care the least
for she had little mind the priest to please.
Took she all pleasure fine that mind could seize,
a gold cross o'er the alter gained her eyes.
The somber monotones of priest did ease,
and lady greatly marveled golden prize.
Benedicat vos onmipotens Deus, Pater,
et Filius, et Sprititus Sanctus. Amen.
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum Sprititu tuo.
Initium sancti Evangelii secundum Ioannem.
Gloria tibi, Domine.
Fire starter using flame
To burn kill destroy lame
What is your end game
To make money to gain
California she suffers so
Set ablaze her forests glow
People steeples burning red
Hard to watch tears are shed
What is the reason or cause
Arson or accident or natures fault
Too many questions strange to see
Insurance cancelled those policies
God help California prevail
As we watch these fires from hell
May the truth be a breeze with sail
Blowing in peace where water fails
Aquamarine, winks.
Observing them, they do blink.
A possum, just thinks.
12/29/2021
RHYMED HAIKU
Highway One California
Lovely and so cooling, was driving my
1956 Chevy Bel-Aire ragtop!
Its whitewall tires, its heavenly hubcaps.
Just stunningly gleaming!
That magnificent red and white convertible!
With joys, so profoundly thrilling!
June 2, 2019
7pm PST
_____
Dedicated to my parents, who gave me this
car on my birthday. Thanks, Mom and Dad for
letting me "Drive My Dream!"
The Ballad of John Muir Woods
I squint at the splendid morning sun
golden filtered bright rays conveyed.
Speaking they say, sit, little one
rest a spell in our noble shade.
I squint at this forest of titans
sitting, I wait for more whisperings.
They weigh my thoughts across the breeze
you are part of our air, they sing.
Youth returns in kaleidoscopes
sprightly green patterns swiftly shift.
Tinged golden from morning’s new hope
their harmony in sea breezes drift.
These conifers sprout from stump and boast
wildness, our need is undisputed.
Redwoods, the glory of Cali’s coast
engage me and call me beloved.
DE Fullerton
Beggars of California
With their tattoos and their piercings, I don’t give money to beggars in California. Up on the Haight with his honey, not really in need, this beggar of California.
At least in New York you get some song and dance, perhaps the tickle of a tenor sax ?and they’re out in the rain, not just when it’s sunny, like those beggars in California.
Near my apartment in Pacific Heights, know them by name. It’s funny; frown when they see me: two brothers, one on either side of the street, these yuppie beggars of California.
I offered to pay the pawn on Runny Nose’s instruments out of hock, but his sign was a true ploy. Another’s sign: “Sailor needs a ship”; it’s war time!? Beggar of California!
I offered one a berth and a meal of tunny. I still see him, but he begs no more.
I think he’s on the dole with a cot. His words were foggy, this beggar of California.
I begged Jackie Paper, since the eighth grade: run for California, head west young man.Education was free. Was I cunning or just another beggar in California?
Ten thousand years ago he roamed free
He was king of the sky on both coasts
Now his kind is just clinging to life
Only about 160 birds left to boast
Lead poisoning led to his decline
That, and the predation of man
Now, sadly, he's raised in a cage
Protected as much as we can
With a wing span of up to 9 feet
His bald head seems far to small
But in flight he's quite spectacular
For in the air he's not ugly at all
Each little egg is a treasure
As we try to hold on to the past
We try to play surrogate mother
In hopes their species will last..........
The centering instruction "kinda" worked...