Katie wrote to me.
Katie wrote to me. A Poem by Coyote PoetryA old poem with a proper re-write. Katie wrote to me.. Painted words and bloody thoughts are what the writer understands and hold tightly to. The… Continue reading
Tag Archive: books
Dead poets.
1- Open doors Open the shades wide.Lite the incense candles of lavender and sweet wild flowers.Don’t be afraid of the dark and lonely nights.We are just flesh and bones.Needing to dance into the… Continue reading
If it be your will.
If It Be Your Will A Poem by Coyote Poetry “You don’t find love. Love finds you.” If it be your will. I saw her sitting alone with a small child. Pretty auburn hair… Continue reading
Maybe yes, maybe no.
Maybe yes, maybe no? I been hiding in the highway 35 taverns for three months. Started drinking early and writing, the happy hours blues poetry. Once I was the great dreamer, wanting everything… Continue reading
The storm.
The storm A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Sometimes we want what we shouldn’t have.” The storm. She had shrouded him with gentle embrace. She was his dream and want. He knew to refrain… Continue reading
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
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