The blue dress
The blue dress A Poem by Coyote Poetry Harry Chapin song took me to good places and memories. The blue dress I found you sitting alone at your family party. Your once fiery… Continue reading
The blue dress A Poem by Coyote Poetry Harry Chapin song took me to good places and memories. The blue dress I found you sitting alone at your family party. Your once fiery… Continue reading
Ghosts, demons, lovers and lonely corridors A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just thoughts upon life. Ghosts, demons, lovers and lonely corridors.. The solemn days leave us with faces of ghosts, demons and… Continue reading
Measure and weight A Poem by Coyote Poetry What make us feel human and alive? I believe it is the love we embraced and the forgiveness we must understand and accept. Measure… Continue reading
Two poems. One poem by a ancient writer and another by a almost ancient writer. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Thomas Nashe words are true today as 400 years ago. The world will… Continue reading
Not enough A Poem by Coyote Poetry Sometime love isn’t enough. Not enough… Kind and sweet muse told me. “Sweet Johnnie, I can save you. Please tell me what you need. You… Continue reading
Dear Amie A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words and thoughts Dear Amie (Denying love rewards leave you with great reward) Sweet words once whispered by a ancient Poet. Dear Amie. Sweet and… Continue reading
La petite mort, Little death -She wanted Paris and I wanted her. A Chapter by Coyote Poetry Midnight conversation Warning This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under… Continue reading
“I will love you forever and a day” A Poem by Coyote Poetry Written in 1978. Memories are like a good wine. Better with time. ” I will love you forever and… Continue reading
You have saved me A Poem by Coyote Poetry For the many people who gave me hope when I had none. You have saved me I remember sitting alone. Holding two brothers photos. Suicide… Continue reading
Secret love and hidden memory. I saw her face today. Made me wander back in time. Each of us hold our Beatrice’s near. The writer holds on to memories like a drunkard holds… Continue reading