I tried.
J.D Salinger My mentor dear J. D Salinger. I pray you found peace. Life taught you to seek loneliness. You saw the bloody war, opened up the death camps for the world to… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Coyote Poetry
Wild horses.
Wild horses.. 1- She as a blooming flower of nineteen, her eyes filled with the glittering of never-ending madness. She wanted ancient cities and aged wines. She wanted to learn the tango and … Continue reading
Blood laced pen.
Blood laced pen. Fight or flee? love or hate? stay or go? Laugh or cry? I wonder what Hemingway remembered in his last moment. Did he remember war or the face of Agnes?… Continue reading
Just a slow dance.
Just a slow dance.. Once upon a blue moon, the prettiest gal in Ann Arbor loved me. I told the polite bartender. She told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You come here almost every night… Continue reading
Nothing could stop me.
Nothing could stop me… Nothing could stop me from seeking you. A gentle summer breeze caressed my face, warning me of a new journey to touch.Nothing could stop me from following you, walking… 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
I want to be the one, you need.
I want to be the one, you need… 1- We swayed with the sea, we loved the Storms of January. I swirled you into soft and easy circles on the empty Seaside beach.… Continue reading
Flesh and bones.
Flesh and bones (Need a positive poem. Life is to be celebrated. Each day is a gift.) I fell from the top of the mountain. I stood with so many victories. I realized… Continue reading
The sea. My first love.
The sea, my first love. Had been 7 years since my feet walks in the sea. I fell in love with the sea in 1991. I found the Pacific Ocean going to Fort… Continue reading
A new Halloween tale. Lestat’s coffee shop conversation.
Lestat’s coffee shop conversation. Was a quiet San Diego night. I read my poetry at a poetry reading next to the Lestat’s coffee shop. I read an old poem. ” Bitter branches Old… Continue reading