The lost and found.
The lost and found A Poem by Coyote Poetry “When love is misplaced. Hard to find again.” The lost and found. I loved the Monterey nights. I would walk from Fort Ord, California… Continue reading
Monthly Archive: January, 2026
Rebirth.
(Corporal C. in 1992.) Rebirth A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some people desire a rebirth in new places. I wonder do we change? Rebirth… Old Johnnie drinking the cheap Honduras rum.Told the two pretty Honduras… Continue reading
Stand for the freedom of speech. Utopia of the pen and the paper.
Utopia of the pen and the paper. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Last freedom is the mind. Can’t control the mind completely. Always hope hiding somewhere.” Utopia of the pen and the paper.… Continue reading
Just enough.
Just enough ( An adult poem.) A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Live fast, test life and hope for a good landing.” Just enough. Long distance calls begging me tostop by and spend time with… Continue reading
The poet.
“Good to be the word man. Good for the heart and soul to release thoughts to paper and pen. The Poet. Many moons ago in the city of Monterey, CaI create many friends… Continue reading
You, the sea and the journey.
You, the sea and the journey. I love the sea and the long path. I followed you to the sea and I told you. The sea is jealous of your beautiful face. My… Continue reading
Hold my hands.
Hold my hands. I will follow you. Will you follow me? He told his ghost-love. His hell-bound life led me to a lonely place. Old soldier returned to the Monterey Bay and he… Continue reading
I am still alive.
I am still alive. She told me, soldier, bleed no-more. What is done, is done. Like a Hemingway story. Twisted roads lead to our proper place. I looked at the dark eyes Gypsy… Continue reading
Look at me. See me.
Look at me. See me. “President Trump pledged Thursday to keep the United States at the “top of the pack” in terms of nuclear weapons, expanding the nation’s nuclear arsenal if necessary and suggesting… Continue reading
A fallen angel.
A fallen angel. In the lair of the fallen angels. Old men talk of fleeing love, old war and missed faces. I joined the club at a young age. Bad decisions, dead brothers… Continue reading