Tag Archive: Coyote Poetry

My true love…

My true love A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Written in 1978-rewritten in 2014                          My true love.. The feeling of joy is you. I have been submerge in your sweet kiss and tender embrace.… Continue reading

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Ribbons and bows…

Ribbons and bows A Poem by Coyote Poetry  With time we learn the real value of living.                     Ribbons and bows.. Once I plunged into work and making money.I was led by the natural… Continue reading

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The lady near the sea..

The lady near the sea… A rainy and gloomy night in New Orleans in the Winter of 1992. Johnnie tried to drink away the heaviness of things left behind. He sat alone near… Continue reading

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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

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Forgive me…

Forgive me… Please forgive me for what I did to you, we did to each other. I’m sorry I escape your life and hid from your memory. I was young,learning to love. Finding… Continue reading

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I am waiting for you..

I am waiting for you.. Once we were brave, we stripped bare and we showed real face. I sang to you. “I am waiting for you my dearest love. I remember you told… Continue reading

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For Rory. One angel knows my name..

“Three fingers of Tequila… One finger for the cancer, one finger for the poison they send pouring through your vein one finger for the preacher cause I don’t believe the Jesus that who… Continue reading

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Great Wednesday song and a poem.

Bang, bang… You were my Tijana Radeska and I was your Doc Holliday. We loved to argue, we love to wrestle till we fell into secret kisses near the Lake St. Clair. You… Continue reading

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Hemingway table…

  Hemingway table.. I found Hemingway table in Paris, in the Spring of 1978. I found Hemingway table in Monterey, California in 1992. I searched Central and South America  for three years, seeking… Continue reading

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Knuckles red, knuckles bleeding..

Knuckle red, knuckles bleeding… His knuckles red, his knuckles bleeding. My father fought and fought, wars that could not be won. He told me in his drunkenness state. What have I done? He… Continue reading

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