The wildflowers, the mystic dancers.
The mystic dancers.. Was a perfect day, Lake St. Clair was dancing and the sun, sun-kissed my face. The grandchildren were enjoying the water and I sat reading my Jack London’s book “When… Continue reading
The mystic dancers.. Was a perfect day, Lake St. Clair was dancing and the sun, sun-kissed my face. The grandchildren were enjoying the water and I sat reading my Jack London’s book “When… Continue reading
1-YouYou make me want things I cannot have.Your sweet words making me wish for placeswere I can be free and wild.Knowing no control and swimming in your eyes. 2- SecretsI want to tell… Continue reading
Sweet pleasure and rare delight. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some memories become sweeter with time. Written in 1992 Sweet pleasure and rare delights.. Sweet pleasure, rare delights.Some dreams should not be touched.They will… Continue reading
Bridgette wrote.. Painted words are what the writer understand. Wisp and grasps of sweet dreams are the last myth of emotions for love and words. Dead writer in the Winter of his life.… Continue reading
(April is poetry month. Poem number six. I found a old journal from 1988. This poem was never published. Old words, old sadness. Become leftover pain, we learn to live with. This poem… Continue reading
( April is poetry month. Poem number five. I found a old journal from 1988. This poem was never published. Old words, old sadness. Become leftover pain, we learn to live with.) For… Continue reading
Lovers in Paris.. She whispered to me, “O my love, O my love. Make me feel alive. I plucked a rose for us today and I told the red rose. Where had my… Continue reading
I hope, I don’t fall in love with you.. I found her sitting alone on the sand at the Seaside beach. You held your whiskey tightly and you wanted to be alone. I… Continue reading
Dance me to the end of love… 1- We shall pay the midnight toll, where the sin, the gin and the skin always needs more. Where strangers begin friends, where friends become strangers.… Continue reading
Mirrored soul.. The half-drunk poet told the beloved night. I saw the veil of heaven and I have tasted death breathe. I am the son of the forest, the water and the sky.… Continue reading