She was a sea dancer.
She was a sea 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… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Coyote Poetry
4 Comments
Please come to me on a summer day.
Please come to me on a summer day. The prettiest gal in Germany told me. Please come to me on a summer day. We can drink the Summer wine and we can dance… Continue reading
You are my Springtime.
You are my Spring time. Cold days and colder nights, heavy clothing burden, I shall forget. You stand in the early June sun, showing me, tender shoulders blessed by the sun and your… Continue reading
Everyone is a river.
She sat in her bra and pantie, her bare feet moving and dancing in water of Lake Superior. I adored watching her and I traced her body with my eyes. I loved her… Continue reading
Dead ends.
Dead ends. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Time for all of us to think and do the right things. Before it is too late for us and nature. Dead ends. Brothers told no-one… Continue reading
Dance more, laugh more, live more. Six-word poetry.
Six words poetry… A Poem by Coyote Poetry My attempt at six words poetry. Six word poems….. 1- Dance more, laugh more, live more…. 2- Money is heavy, Love is light….. 3- Yesterday, tomorrow,… Continue reading
I used to be.
I used to be. A Poem by Coyote Poetry The past is gone. What can we do to improve our life and show love and kindness to family and friends. I used to be. A… Continue reading
An empty bottle.
An empty bottle. My whiskey dreams, my last grasp at love or the emptiness at the end of the empty bottle. The broken pieces of my life laid shattered. Once sweet songs had… Continue reading
First and last thoughts of each day.
1- Dreams.I could have touched every dream. My sweet dreams went fleeting away,when you did not love me anymore.I didn’t know you were my fountain of hope and my muse in dreams and… Continue reading
Trying to lose your memory.
Trying to lose your memory. I tried to find peace and calm in the coffee houses of Monterey, drinking strong coffee and reading dead-end poetry at the nightly poetry readings. I thought I… Continue reading