Category Archive: coyote

The Stray Cat Inn..

The Stray Cat Inn The night  was dark and the night was long. The Poet was seeking final place to rest tonight. A  sign directed him north.  He found the last road on… Continue reading

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She serenades me with the words of love..

She serenades me with the words of love A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words.                              She serenades me with the… Continue reading

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I left a lady crying…

I left a lady crying… A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just some words.                                     I left a lady crying Lady true lay down alone in a cold bed. Words of love left her upside… Continue reading

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My Joan of Arc..

My Joan of Arc     She painted her make-up upon perfect skin. She turned to me and she told me . “I need my war face tonight. I rarely show my real… Continue reading

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Leonard Cohen song and some words.

You are fire and I’m wood.       A Poem by Coyote Poetry “You are fire and I’m wood.” Thank you the great Poet Virgil for these words.                            You are… Continue reading

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The parable of the flowers and the lovelorn man…

The parable of the flowers and the lovelorn man       She was a perfect beauty. She danced nightly on a stage in Killeen, Texas.  I went nightly and I waited for… Continue reading

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Let’s drink and pray for more…

https://youtu.be/gtHgUvtpqwc   Let’s drink and pray for more   Wild child danced alone on Austin Dance floor. Barely old enough to be in the dark taverns of Downtown Austin. Her wild eyes searched… Continue reading

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I want to fall in love

I want to fall in love (Life is short: break some rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly and never regret anything that made you smile.)  A quote from somewhere?) “Was, maybe late… Continue reading

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Locked and loaded…

Locked and loaded A Poem by Coyote Poetry War. What is it good for? Nothing.                                       Locked and loaded The old Soldiers knows. The madness of youth was the temptation of sweet wine and… Continue reading

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Just words…

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. Ernest Hemingway   Reading and writing, like everything else, improve with practice. And, of course, if there… Continue reading

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