Beautiful Maria showed me the way to the fray.
A woman, too pretty to be near me. She took my hands and she told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You must find the Fray. Your organized life is killing you and your dead dreams… Continue reading
A woman, too pretty to be near me. She took my hands and she told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You must find the Fray. Your organized life is killing you and your dead dreams… Continue reading
Dear Maggie. (Dream writing.) She was my sea dancer, she was a kind lover. Now, she is a lasting memory, and she is tattoos on my mind. I was being loco, drinking and… Continue reading
Wild and free. 1- I was seeking you; you were seeking me. You knew I was near the Monterey Bay. I was writing words for the Pacific Ocean, and I was thinking of… Continue reading
The day is gone and the dark nights are here. I never liked the month of December. I seem to lose more than I gained. Once, after a war, I returned home and… Continue reading
Please come home with me. Was Tuesday and I leading the poetry reading at the Monterey coffee shop. Was a good night and we read, we listen and we appreciate the poet’s words.… Continue reading
Thank you for the kindness of love. Cecelia was a Monterey beauty. More beautiful than the flowers that decorated the walkway by the pier. She was well-spoken, she wore colorful summer dresses and… Continue reading
Please run away with me… Sweetest and prettiest gal in Clinton, Michigan.Please run away with me.Let’s toss all our useless dreams away and please take my hand.Hand in hand, we will roam to… Continue reading
(April is poetry month. New poetry number twelve.) The ballad of the angry woman. She was an unbounded lady sitting alone at Happy Hour in the Monterey Irish Pub. Long Island Ice Teas,… Continue reading
The hills and the Apache. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “An old poem when I was seeking who I was. Written in 1992.” The hills and the Apache. I had a bottle of good… Continue reading
The word-man. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Need people to desire peace before we cross a line of no return.” Many years ago. In 1991 to 1993. I would read my poetry on the coastline of California. … Continue reading