When I am done…

When I am done.. I became the old man who waiting for no-one. Once I wanted everything and now. I need little. I wonder where do the old soldiers go? When they are… Continue reading

Rate this:

Love Posies…

Love Posies… His pretty love, dear Veronica told him. You promised me love posies, everyday of my life. You promised me  morning posies and you promised to read love posies before we sleep.… Continue reading

Rate this:

The midnight payment.. Some mini-poetry.

The midnight payment … 1-  We kissed and we never told. We were midnight dancers, wanting everything and more. Did we find some kind of peace in the serene night? Or did we… Continue reading

Rate this:

Everybody knows…

Everybody knows.. New world isn’t so easy. Each day, more people walking the line of homelessness. Do we eat? Do we buy gas? Do we pay our rent? A dollar bill became useless… Continue reading

Rate this:

I try to remember..

I try to remember A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Old poetry with are-write. Written in 1992/rewritten in 2014                          I try to remember.. I tried to remember the curves of your body.  Us blindfolded … Continue reading

Rate this:

Fairytale ending..

(Johnnie in Germany 1979.) Fairytale ending A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Sometime life is fair. We can have a fairytale ending when all things fall into place properly.                          Fairytale ending.. Love letters are… Continue reading

Rate this:

Show me, where it hurts.

Show me, where it hurts… One-  She was a earth angel, she had a raging spirit and she loved the sea, the deep forest. She weaved safe place for me with the beach… Continue reading

Rate this:

I hope, I don’t fall in love with you…

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

Rate this:

The poet wisp..

The poet wisp… The pretty Texas gal asked me. You are here every Friday and Saturday morning by the Austin River sitting alone. Reading your books and writing into your journal. You read… Continue reading

Rate this:

The lost generation.. The French mother. Chapter four.

Pryde caressed his face till he finally was in a sound sleep. She saw the small small back-pack. She went to the small back-pack. She opened up the back-pact. She saw two books.… Continue reading

Rate this: