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
Tag Archive: books
You can’t always get what you want.
You can’t always get what you want. Johnnie and Susanna were singing the Roller Stone song.” You can’t always get what you want, but sometimes we get what we need.” Me and Suzanna… Continue reading
One more cup of coffee.
One more cup of coffee.. She was a California dream, in her eyes. You could see the great sea. In her voice, she could take away all my sadness. I went to her… Continue reading
Two out of three, isn’t bad.
Two out of three isn’t bad. I was sitting alone in an Austin tavern in 1996.Drinking the long Island ice teas.Trying to get blinded. An old man dressed poorly ordered a water.Bartender gave… Continue reading
The song of love.
The Song of love. Drunkenness in a reckless love, knowing the true fragrant of love.The blackness of love, the whiteness of love.The dead love, the alive love.The desperate love and the forgotten love.… Continue reading
The weeping song.
The weeping song. I wrote years ago. “When our soldiers are fighting in faraway wars. War will find us. War will come to our doorstep.” “Older men declare war. But it is youth… Continue reading
The tarot cards.
A Story by Coyote Poetry “We can learn things in the strangest places on this planet.” The tarot cards. I went to an old dark carnival on a hidden road outside of Sarajevo. I… Continue reading
We were just men and women.
We were just Men and Women…. 20 soldiers sat and waiting in a room .The education of War written deep in their brains and hearts. Their souls became polluted with word kill, protect… Continue reading
Beautiful Delia.
Delia A Poem by Coyote PoetryBeautiful Delia is dancing alone somewhere. (The name Delia is of Greek origin. The meaning of Delia is “visible”. It is also of English origin, where its meaning is “of Delos“.… Continue reading
The poet’s heart.
The poet’s heart… The poet wrote to paper. Where are you my love, sweet. He told the morning sky, do you remember? I promised you a summer waltz near the sea and I… Continue reading