Happy Father’s day to all dads and Grandpas. Family pictures
Family pictures. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Kind people leave us with kind memories and show us how to live. Family pictures. Do we know when the final goodbye is? Did… Continue reading
Category Archive: life
My Texas poetry. Two out of three ain’t bad.
Two out of three ain’t bad. I was sitting alone in a Austin tavern in 1996. Drinking long Island ice teas. Trying to get blinded. A old man dressed poorly ordered a water.… Continue reading
–The canvas of love
The canvas of love A Poem by Coyote Poetry True love is real art. We must use our imagination, draw out plans. Touch with gentle movements create emotion that will expand to great… Continue reading
_The crossroads of the embrace or the decay”
The crossroads of the embrace or the decay? A Poem by Coyote Poetry We decide what we need and not with the quickest of decision. If we knew. It was the last time… Continue reading
Truth and knowing peace
Truth and knowing peace A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words and thinking too much Truth and knowing peace Sober mornings leave the careless men with decaying love, to swim… Continue reading
Five short poems.
Five short poems. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words. War The war is over. The guns locked away. The soldiers are resting. Youth and eyes burned out by war. No-one… Continue reading
Coming home
Coming home A Poem by Coyote Poetry You can’t come back from where you left. The road become twisted and we become confused. Coming home I sat in the plane from Philly. Heading… Continue reading
-We laughed, we danced and we celebrated being alive.
We laughed, we danced and we celebrated being alive. A Poem by Coyote Poetry For sweet Brigitte. I was lucky to be saved by a kind heart. We laughed, we danced… Continue reading
-Be flexible branches than dead roots
Be flexible branches than dead roots A Story by Coyote Poetry I learn the past is gone and today actions matter, by a New Orleans Tarot card reader. Be flexible branches… Continue reading
_Blinded. But not dead yet.
Blinded. But not dead yet. (Old poem from 6 July 1993. Must go to the bottom of the barrel to be able to see the light. Now I see chances to do good… Continue reading