Sometime love isn’t enough..
Not enoughA Poem by Coyote Poetry “Sometime love isn’t enough. “ Not enough… My mind and sweet muse told me. Sweet Johnnie, I can save you.Please tell me what you need. You can’t live… Continue reading
Not enoughA Poem by Coyote Poetry “Sometime love isn’t enough. “ Not enough… My mind and sweet muse told me. Sweet Johnnie, I can save you.Please tell me what you need. You can’t live… Continue reading
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
Mojo rising… I left Ann Arbor in 1990. The dead man walking had nothing to lose. Joined a war to see, if he was alive or dead? The damn war taught me, Johnnie… Continue reading
Your love, like Heroin.. Lace and silk, whiskey and sin, pain and misery we loved. I loved to watch you paint your beautiful face and I told you. You are a natural beauty.… Continue reading
Coffee shop conversation A Poem by Coyote Poetry A Poem by Coyote PoetryGood coffee and a chess game is what life need to be. I miss the days of good conversation and chess games. … Continue reading
Stand by me.. ( Old words with same meaning today. Time for the good people to unite to stop hate, racism and separation. We must make a safe world for every child.) Someone… Continue reading
I had a immortal love once… I told the whiskey glass. The worst sin done, is something we wanted to do and we didn’t do. Most of us learn too late. Words can… Continue reading
Please kiss me and tell me I am the only one you need… She had waited a thousand days for him. War and confusion had made their love wait. They shared a 100… Continue reading
Understandable.. I told the pretty Gypsy gal at the Stray Cat Inn. Love never befriended me. I sought the wild sea, I sought the sea dancer. And I learn. Love isn’t understandable to… Continue reading
I am still alive.. She told me, soldier, bleed no-more. What is done, is done. Like a Hemingway story. Twisted roads lead to our proper place. I looked at the dark eyes Gypsy… Continue reading