Love words.
Love words.. Do we remember love? The pretty poet asked. I told her. When we are young, the allure of love, make us believe in a sweet miracle. We are infatuate with the… Continue reading
Love words.. Do we remember love? The pretty poet asked. I told her. When we are young, the allure of love, make us believe in a sweet miracle. We are infatuate with the… Continue reading
I remember you. The summer days were long andthe splendor of the blue skies and the bright sun.Beckon us to the sea. The heat of hot days.Thaw our cold hearts.The beauty of Monterey… Continue reading
Once upon a time. I returned to Akron in 1980. I was looking for a sweet memory In 1973 at my fifteen-birthday party. The prettiest friend of my sister gave me a birthday… Continue reading
The walls and the damn mirrors A Poem by Coyote Poetry Can’t hide what we became when we see our reflection in the mirrors The walls and the damn mirrors. My father told… Continue reading
The madness train A Poem by Coyote Poetry Time to know what real pleasure is. Before it is too late. The Madness train. I’m twisted up. Hogties to bullshit. I’m strangled with useless… Continue reading
The blue-eyed girl. “When you got nothing to lose.Can’t fall too far my friends.”I told a group of Poets outside the Monterey bookstore. A blue-eyed girl with hair of auburn stood her ground.Told… Continue reading
She had Angels wings upon her back. Her long auburn hair rolled down her long slender back. The tattoos Angel awoke secret dreams and nightmares. Her tattoos rolled down from soft neck to… Continue reading
Wild Maria, dancing Maria, my Winter storm. The crimson night, the thunderstorms of life had brought me to you. I watched you from a distance and I dreamed of moonlight nights, feeling your… Continue reading
Don’t look at me with disappointment. A Poem by Coyote Poetry We must remember we set the example. Lead with concern, kindness and hope. Don’t look at me with disappointment. Don’t look at… Continue reading
Wisdom of a long life. When we are born.Even the poorest of people have opportunities. Outcasts and poor folks seem to work harder.They appreciate every small or large victory.They grasp books and reach… Continue reading