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John L Arnold


San Francisco, CA, US

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A California Kind of Woman


John L Arnold

First image is of sunlight,
the Ocean, white beaches.
slight breeze blowing,
perfect long golden hair.
Long skirt, tank top, feet bare.
No make-up,
no jewelry.
No need.
She wears the Sun perfectly.
Heavy eyebrows, arched naturally.
Skin , coffee with cream color.
White teeth on tan,
dazzling in the sun.
Her eyes mirror her soul,
no coy glances,
no words with double meaning,
no flirting for the sake of flirting,
no reason for it.

Total honesty,
right there, out front.
Her eyes look directly into your heart.
Beauty and wisdom together.

And as you see her, know her.
The word suddenly comes to you.
This woman is totally free.
Free of sexist stereotypes,
free to love.
free of the straight jacket,
of roles to be played.

Natural, easy, flowing.
And when she is with you,
it is as if you are,
the only other person on earth.
Her smile is as if sunlight,
had fallen on a dark place,
for the first time.
Lips: large, expressive, petulant.

No lies,
no cute little deceptions.
No behind the back comments.
Only truth spoken here.
This woman is of a new breed,
a product of true liberation.
Stereotyped roles for women,
are cast out in the light of reason.
New ways of thinking,
new ways of living.
Real revolution.

the impression is that of strength.
Both Strong and Free.
Beauty, strength, intellect.
Young in attitude,
old in wisdom.
Physical and spiritual beauty,
a new kind of woman,

A California Kind of Woman.



John L Arnold

The Red Hawk circles,
long, slow,
sweeping turns,
riding the ocean wind.

Far below,
his shadow,
moves over the land below.

To the West,
the mighty Pacific Ocean,
strikes the land mass,
in relentless assault.

Endless lines of
Aquamarine waves,
roll onto the land mass.
Soldiers to the front.

The land rises up,
forming a fortress,
of thousnd foot cliffs,
the first line of defense.

The Lords of the forest,
mighty Redwood Trees,
stand, tall and strong,
as if in reserve against,
the onslaught of the Sea.

The Red Hawk dives and climbs,
on the whim of the wind.
unaware of the eternal battle,
between Land and Sea.

Looking at this Epic scene,
I am able to see myself,
as if in a mirror.

Just a bit of bone and flesh,
my life and times,
a fleeting moment
in the natural order of things.



John L. Arnold

Is it in the lines?
The little ones around the eyes.
Little creases in the skin,
that you can tell a Woman is,
of certain age?

Starts out baby smooth,
then time and trouble,
start to add lines.

One for each time,
the heart is broken,
one for each lover, lost.
for each child born,
one for each illusion,
One for each bitter disappointment.

Is it in the lines?
Can you see that a Woman is,
of a certain age.

one line for each betrayal,
one for each thousand promises,
Lines for talent and potential,
One for each subtle insult,
One for each cruel sexist remark,

And on for all the children of the world who are,

And for love,
a lot of deep lines for Love.

New love found, old love lost.
Child love, Mother love.
The white hot heat of physical love.
Mature love, comfortable and easy.
The old roller coaster, up then down.

Worry, fear, joy,
hope,dreams, ambition,
contrition and frustration,
a lot of line for frustration.

In the middle of life,
the lines begin to,
merge and blend,
a look in mirror confirms,
a touch of grey.

The face has become,
the story line in that,
comedy-tragedy called Life.

The lines begin to converge,
and gain form,
And finally, the story is told.

On the beautiful face of a Woman,

A Woman of a certain age.