Maybe yes, maybe no.
Maybe yes, maybe no? I been hiding in the highway 35 taverns for three months. Started drinking early and writing, the happy hours blues poetry. Once I was the great dreamer, wanting everything… Continue reading
Tag Archive: John Castellenas
The light and the darkness.
The light and the darkness. You told me. “The black heart, too dark and cold for love. Is just barren soil. Nothing can live in soil swimming in the blood of heartache and… Continue reading
I will take care of you dear lover.
I will take care of you dear lover. Ancient Poet wrote. You can be killed off with kisses and loving eyes can turn cold and dark. Pretty Beth whispered. Take me, make me… Continue reading
The storm.
The storm A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Sometimes we want what we shouldn’t have.” The storm. She had shrouded him with gentle embrace. She was his dream and want. He knew to refrain… Continue reading
The sparkle in your eyes.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry “Old memories and places.” The sparkles in your eyes. I remember when the sparkles in your eyes could light up the world around you. I remember how badly… Continue reading
Let it be.
Old man sitting alone. Sitting on the cliffs of Pacific Grove. You can see the Pacific Ocean forever. Miles of the beautiful and powerful sea. He write words into a black notebook. Secret… 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
Painting pretty pictures.
Painting pretty pictures. Tonight I am drinking the Irish coffee and I am remembering better days. I am painting pretty pictures with my words, and I am trying to remember your face. I… Continue reading
Highway 80 west calling me.
Highway 80 west calling me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road. Highway 80 west calling me. I’m tire, so damn tired. Somehow, I… Continue reading
A wing and a prayer.
A wing and a prayer. He told the Lake St. Clair. We become, who suppose become. Hell-bound life can lead us to place of peace. He told the lady of the lake. Kind… Continue reading