The lost and found.
The lost and found. I loved the Monterey nights. I would walk from Fort Ord, California to downtown Monterey nightly. The beach was empty till Seaside. The entrance to the Pacific was always… Continue reading
Tag Archive: California
We will accept less and forget who we were.
We will accept less and forget who we were. Mother Winter is here. I have driven 2500 miles to come home to Detroit. I came home for many reasons. I needed the kindness… Continue reading
Only you.
Only you. I drank in the beauty of river clear blue eyes. I watched you dance on the seaside beach freely and unafraid of the opinions of the beach goers nearby. I made… Continue reading
The California highway.
The California highway. The desert art is everywhere. Seekings of beauty can find the beautiful artwork. Artwork, poetry for the eyes. Dancing Coyote
Beatrice Marcella.
Beatrice 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 now he… Continue reading
Run with the wind and dance with the sea.
Run with the wind and dance with the sea. A Poem by Coyote Poetry When life make us sad. Need to find reason and purpose. Run with the wind. Dance with the sea…… Continue reading
Morning glory.
Morning glory A Poem by Coyote Poetry Good to open your eyes and see the glory of the new day and beauty near. Morning glory. The smell of fresh coffee and pancakes cooking… Continue reading
The beauty and the sea.
The beauty and the sea. You saved me. You waited for me by the blessed Pacific Ocean and you turned to me. You looked at me with your sea blue eyes and I… Continue reading
Beautiful faces, kind memories. And a beautiful Jasmine Thompson song.
Beautiful faces and passionate kisses. When the night is long and sleep is far away.Sweet faces appeared to awake dead passion and re-birth ghosts lost in the sea of memories.Regret is plenty for… Continue reading
We cannot own the wind or control the sea. And a beautiful Patricia O’Callaghan singing Cohen.
We had the month of May, once. Pretty gal from Italy told him by the Monterey Bay, the pipe dream poet, he isn’t poetry, he isn’t love, he is cursed, cursed to live… Continue reading