The storm.

The storm A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Sometimes we want what we shouldn’t have.”                                       The storm. She had shrouded him with gentle embrace. She was his dream and want. He knew to refrain… Continue reading

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The sparkle in your eyes.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Old memories and places.”                  The sparkles in your eyes. I remember when the sparkles in your eyes could light up the world around you. I remember how badly… Continue reading

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Let it be.

Old man sitting alone. Sitting on the cliffs of Pacific Grove. You can see the Pacific Ocean forever. Miles of the beautiful and powerful sea. He write words into a black notebook. Secret… Continue reading

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She was a dancer..

She was a dancer… She was a dancer and I was the Monterey Irish Pub drunk. She could paint the sea, she could paint the forest and she could paint beautiful faces and… Continue reading

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Painting pretty pictures.

Painting pretty pictures. Tonight I am drinking the Irish coffee and I am remembering better days. I am painting pretty pictures with my words, and I am trying to remember your face. I… Continue reading

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Highway 80 west calling me.

Highway 80 west calling me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road.                                   Highway 80 west calling me. I’m tire, so damn tired. Somehow, I… Continue reading

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A wing and a prayer.

A wing and a prayer. He told the Lake St. Clair. We become, who suppose become. Hell-bound life can lead us to place of peace. He told the lady of the lake. Kind… Continue reading

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The lucky or the crazy.

The lucky or the crazy. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  I lived on the coastline of California for three years. No better place to be.               The lucky or the crazy. We danced by… Continue reading

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Petite mort.

 Petite mort. She was a portrait of beauty.Her love was locked away, waiting for the perfect man and the gentle embrace. She asked me. Was any kindness or good left in me? I… Continue reading

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The lullaby.

The lullaby. The old poet sang a lullaby to the sea.A lullaby, a sensual woman whispered to me once on a warm Spring Day.“Come live with me and be my lover.I will be… Continue reading

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