Ghost and shadows- chapter two..
Ghost and shadows… Chapter two Johnnie sat with Tanya. He loved seeing her face, the fire and great storms in her eyes make him believe. Life was more than him. Life could be… Continue reading
Tag Archive: California
The days when love was near.
1— He loved her so. She played his heart softly and tenderly like a violin. Creating a song of majestic days, eternal nights. Her music filled with grace and joy. She was a… Continue reading
A Monterey Summer day..
A Monterey Summer day.. The poet sat alone drinking his coffee near the Monterey Bay. He was 35 years old and he felt like he had lived five lifetimes. The soldiers in his… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski?
A Poem by Coyote Poetry Years ago. I met Bukowski roaming the California coastline. I didn’t know who he was, at the time. He read my work and he told me. Good stuff and… Continue reading
Dirty little secrets..
Dirty little secrets.. I watched the moon rise and the sun run away and I remember ‘ You and I’. I’m the dancing moon whispering words of love to you as we pass… Continue reading
My darkest days..
My darkest days Winter of 1992 was holding on and I was hiding out on Highway one. I brought the vodka and pineapple juice to Big Sur. Me and my soldier friend Robert… Continue reading
Gentle on my mind and a beautiful song by The Band Perry.
Easy on my mind.. She had heard too many useless words spoken and she needed a friend. She was a North Dakota gal, tall, long and so beautiful. She told me on a… Continue reading
The waltz…
The Waltz A Poem by Coyote PoetryThe ocean and love create emotions and passion that stay with us forever.” The waltz (Was publish in small press, many moon ago.) We were doing a waltz… Continue reading
Morning glory and a amazing Cat Steven song.
Morning gloryA 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 and… Continue reading
We had the month of May, once.
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