Dear Angela..
Dear Angela.. Dear Angela. Don’t cry for yesterday my pretty lady.Yesterday is gone and today we have tonight. All of us are dirty with sin.Few of us are clean and the most of… Continue reading
Dear Angela.. Dear Angela. Don’t cry for yesterday my pretty lady.Yesterday is gone and today we have tonight. All of us are dirty with sin.Few of us are clean and the most of… Continue reading
Fable love.. I behold today the first warm day of Spring. I’m finding hope and energy in the new-born flowers and the new greenery of the forest. I have been swimming in the… Continue reading
Dear December The war couldn’t kill me and I returned home in 1992 and I called you.A sweet voice answered the phone and you whispered.Dear Johnnie, please come home to me. I would… Continue reading
Beautiful Laura sat by the sea A Poem by Coyote Poetry Beautiful places and things can’t be forgotten.” Beautiful Laura sat by the sea I sat in a field of wildflowers.The scent of… Continue reading
Old love… She called me at midnight and she whispered. Johnnie, Johnnie. Do you remember me? I am so damn lonely tonight and please Johnnie. Can I come to you tonight? I told… Continue reading
The white wolf and raven dance. 1- Nocturnal life she wanted. But the raven befriended the quiet white wolf. She wanted quiet, she tried to forget. The screams of the dead. They murdered… Continue reading
Unwashed memories.. At the Purgatory Inn in Austin, Texas. No-one seek to save you, no-one is seeking salvation. Just leftover people finding peace in the whiskey and the sad country songs. Pretty Sally,… Continue reading
Almost home Took me 26 years and four bloody wars zones and I learn.Monterey was still there,the Pacific was still dancing and you could buy a cup of Irish Coffee on the pier.… Continue reading
Jealous of the night.. Johnnie drinking the lime, cranberry juice and vodka. Kind bartender allowed him needed silence and she ensured his drink was top-off. He loved Monday night at the Stray Cat… Continue reading
Dearest Marcella I found a twenty-five year old storage bag. Filled with old photos and old letters. I went through them, one by one. Each photo showed me a stranger, who lived and… Continue reading