The lost generation. The French woman. Part four. A Chapter by Coyote Poetry I am trying to write. The lost generation.. The French woman. November 28, 2024 The lost generation.. The French woman. Chapter… Continue reading
The lost generation.. Part two. A Chapter by Coyote Poetry When you know only shit. Can you make shit taste good? War. Is shit. The lost generation. Part two Tonight I drink my whiskey.… Continue reading
Once we held love over all things. I remember us. We disregarded the ending for the days and nights of love. I was your Hemingway and you were my Agnes. I remember you.… Continue reading
(Easy life and quiet death-Sir Walter Scott) (We poets in our youth begin with gladness; but there off in the end despondency and madness- Wordsworth) I want to dance with you tonight. Sober… Continue reading
Be a fisherman. I was taught by my father. A good day, is a family day fishing. Now I teach my grandchildren how to enjoy the Clinton River and how to catch fish.… Continue reading
Summer days go by so quickly. My friends. Today I had lived 68 years, and I know I had a good life. I always had work and I am blessed with good heath.… Continue reading
Wild Irish Rose. Pretty gal with emerald eyes and the sweetest voice I ever heard. She told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You can’t out-run the devil and the Wild Irish Rose won’t save… Continue reading
You are my poetry my dearest love. I was a soldier, wandering the world seeking adventure and I learn. One day, I was alone. I learn, if you escape home for a long… Continue reading
One more cup of coffee.. She was a California dream, in her eyes. You could see the great sea. In her voice, she could take away all my sadness. I went to her… Continue reading
She told me by Lake St. Clair. Love never did love me. 1- A Summer day…The birds were singing near me.Lake St. Clair was alive and dancing for the children.The sun-kissed my face… Continue reading
