Old soldier..
Old soldier… A Story by Coyote Poetry Only Soldiers understand what another soldier had saw and felt. Strangers to war and violence cannot understand. When you are near death for too long. You appreciate… Continue reading
Tag Archive: books
Love had taught me madness..
Love had taught me madness.. Break me.. Please break me, make me bleed, show me I’m alive. Make me die and bring me back to life. Dead men revived, they know life can… Continue reading
Remembering the fragrance of Winter..
Remembering the fragrance of Winter A Poem by Coyote PoetryA story Remembering the fragrance of Winter… I had lived the… Continue reading
Wild Maria, dancing Maria. My Winter storm..
Wild Maria, dancing Maria. My Winter storm…. The crimson night, the thunder storms of life had brought me to you. I watched you from a distance and I dreamed of moonlight nights, feeling… Continue reading
The flight of love..
The flight of love A Poem by Coyote Poetry Love is very tender. We must walk softly upon the premises of how love need reminders. Forgotten and undeclared love can fade away to banished… Continue reading
Two out of three ain’t bad..
Two out of three ain’t bad.. I was sitting alone in a Austin tavern in 1996.Drinking long Island ice teas.Trying to get blinded. A old man dressed poorly ordered a water.Bartender gave him… Continue reading
Dead man stew..
Dead man stew A Poem by Coyote Poetry When greed and hate run the world. Our leaders are making a dead man stew. No-one will victor. Dead man stew.. Poor man is dying.Was… Continue reading
My Bonnie girl..
My Bonnie gal… I returned to Glasgow in late 1979. I was trying to find a memory, a kind memory. In the Spring of 1978, a beautiful Bonnie girl loved me so. She was… Continue reading
Wicked, we must be. Wicked, we must know..
Wicked, we must be. Wicked, we must know. “Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts or burn with his natural passions. His… Continue reading
Wild Irish Rose and a amazing George Jones song.
Wild Irish Rose.. Pretty gal with emerald eyes and the sweetest voice I ever heard. She told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You can’t out-run the devil and the Wild Irish Rose won’t save… Continue reading