Home of the rising sun, New Orleans.
Home of the rising sun, New Orleans. I sat in the New Orleans in 1996 and I liked New Orleans. Hard time and hard days couldn’t kill her spirit. I drank whiskey with… Continue reading
Monthly Archive: December, 2025
Last chance saloon.
Last chance saloon I was the Monday night closer manager at the Purgatory Inn. I was counting the money, and a pretty lady was waiting for me. I watched her roll her cigarette… Continue reading
Dead flowers. Written and verbal poetry.
Dead flowers. I came to you with some Tennessee whiskey and a small plant with rosemary trying to grow. I sat on your porch, waiting for you. I wanted to see your morning face,… Continue reading
Looking for my Agnes.
Looking for my Agnes.. Hemingway wrote of his Agnes. A love, who saved him and left him. Hemingway learn. Love in war, just gifts of the survivors. We must go home. Took J.… Continue reading
The waltz of the Angels. Remembering dear Joey.
The waltz of the Angels. I told the barkeeper. Keep the long Island ice teas coming. Sunday morning is a-coming. I need to be blinded by the morning. He gave me a sad… Continue reading
I wanted a true love once.
I don’t need you. At the Purgatory Inn. Old men wisdom means little.Dead men wisdom is buried and gone forever. I’m sitting with old writers and fellow non-believers in the lullabies of the… Continue reading
Love drove me to madness.
I remember the summer days spend with you, my love. Hots day became hotter nights. You were a ravishing and tempting beauty. You loved the sea, and you loved the wine country of… Continue reading
Delicate flower.
Delicate flower. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some people and places are perfect. They are delicate flowers and perfect places. Delicate flower. I was a wore and torn man, receded into the whiskey… Continue reading
Ancient floors.
Ancient floors. In the mirrors of time.Old windows may never be closed. Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of… Continue reading
Come live with me and be my love.
Come live with me and be my love. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “I stole the line from the great writer Christopher Marlowe” Come live with me and be my love (Come live with… Continue reading