Big Sur a-dreaming…
Big Sur a-dreaming… A un-mark road with a small sign will lead you to a hidden beach on Highway 2. A small path will lead you to paradise. A beach not safe for swimming.… Continue reading
Monthly Archive: September, 2023
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Let it be…
Let it be… Old man sitting alone… Sitting on the cliffs of Pacific Grove. You can see the Pacific ocean forever. Miles of the beautiful and powerful sea. He write… Continue reading
Shadows..
Shadows.. My sister told me. You have changed. She told me. You saw too much shit and your mind and eyes are cold.. I told her,.War isn’t personal.You do what you are told. Try… Continue reading
Cry a tear…
Cry a tear A Poem by Coyote Poetry My first published poem. Some small press put in in 1979. Cry a tear.. My heart still can bleed with pain and loss still.Tears can… Continue reading
Two poems. By a ancient poet and myself..
(A WW2 graveyard near Paris.) Two poems. By a ancient Poet and a live one. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I love the old Poets. Some died before they had the chance to do… Continue reading
Am I dead or alive?
(Johnnie in the fault line of California in 1993.) Am I dead or alive? A Poem by Coyote Poetry A old poem found. Written 1987. Am I dead or alive? Describe emotion.Describe love.Describe… Continue reading
First love…
First love A Poem by Coyote Poetry Written in 1978. When youth was my advantage. First love A sweet and beautiful smile opening the door to conversation.The first taste of the sweet kiss.Two hands… Continue reading
Angela…
(My Big Sur in 1994. Near the River Inn. Big Sur, blessed by the hands of God.) Angela A Poem by Coyote Poetry We can fall so low and deep. Need someone to pull… Continue reading
The song of the seasons…
(My children. I adopted into my life in 1996. Now strong and wise. I have nine grandchildren. We must set the example for our children. Be kind, lead with concern and listen.) The… Continue reading
California dreaming..
California dreaming.. My first true love was the sea. Always willing to welcome me back and she was willing to listen to the quiet poet. I miss the Pacific and I hope. To… Continue reading