You are my poetry…
You are my poetry…. Forlorn love, treasured memories. You used to read poetry to me by the candle light. You were my heavenly voice, sweet songs when life became too hard. Once we… Continue reading
You are my poetry…. Forlorn love, treasured memories. You used to read poetry to me by the candle light. You were my heavenly voice, sweet songs when life became too hard. Once we… Continue reading
The word-man. (Need men of woman to write the truth. Thank you for Hemingway, Kosinski, Twain and Nevil Shute. They wrote about the truth. The word-man must leave the truth behind. Maybe someone… Continue reading
A thousand kisses deep… The doors are locked and window block by the satin curtains.We infuse our bodies freely and wildly.We tossed the silk sheets upon the cold floor. We are sharing sweet… Continue reading
A Poem by Coyote Poetry” A wise man accept responsibility for his actions. “Broken promises and lost places… I remembered we had dreams of being barefoot in wildflowers fields and love was to… Continue reading
Morning glory A Poem by Coyote Poetry Good to open your eyes and see the glory of the new day and beauty near. Morning glory… The smell of fresh coffee and pancakes cooking… Continue reading
Love demand payment… The gentle lover whispered. Remember me and I will remember you. We are creatures of delight. Need torrent nights and warm morning kisses. She begin to shave my face. Her… Continue reading
Some days can be perfect A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life is like the sea. We can be as powerful as a Winter storm or quiet as the smooth dance of the morning tide. … Continue reading
Fabiola…. (Now nothing remains the same) Your name came to me late in the midnight hour, brought back the canvas of your perfect body, your kind smile and your beautiful face. Your name,… Continue reading
The beauty and the sea… You saved me. You waited for me by the blessed Pacific ocean and you turned to me. You looked at me with your sea blue eyes and I… Continue reading
Just a Black Velvet lullaby… I wrote to a old journal in a Austin, Texas tavern in 1993. The poet don’t cry, he just write some more. Hemingway told us, we, who love… Continue reading