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
Tag Archive: California
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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
I hope your days be bright and love will be near you always.
I hope your days be bright and love will be near you always.. She was the Gypsy girl, Monterey Bay dancer. She would gather her friends and they would find the sea. They… Continue reading
Dear Andrea..
Dear Andrea… I remembered dear Andrea. A lovely Michigan gal, once was kind to my young heart. I wrote into a notebook. “Time has pass us by,old wounds don’t hurt so badly.Old sorrow… 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
Highway poetry..
(Highway poetry-short poemsA Poem by Coyote PoetryJust words) Wander or slowly die.. She was so beautiful.She moved like a wild and free animal.I knew she was untamed and lusted for the free highway.I… Continue reading
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… Continue reading