My grandfather house.
My Grandfather house (First written on 14 March 1980- Rewritten 29 December 2015) Time has moved too quickly.I have growth from a small lad to a old man. I remember following you my… Continue reading
Tag Archive: memories
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Beautiful portraits.
Beautiful portraits. I drew with my pen, beautiful places and beautiful faces to paper. I keep alive kind memories, I keep alive the memories of the ancient cities, I once saw. I create… Continue reading
Mystical places.
Mystical places A Poem by Coyote PoetryFirst love, first real kiss and the first true words of love become mystical places where we can find in sweet dreams forever. Mystical places. Many types… Continue reading
Souvenirs.
Souvenirs A Poem by Coyote Poetry The odd things we hold special in old age. Souvenirs. An old box filled with simple gifts.Shiny stones from the Big Sur.Seashells from the coast of Europe.Many… Continue reading
We will know happiness, we will know sadness.
(April is poetry month. New poetry number twenty.) We will know happiness, we will know sadness. 1- Once I drank in life, once I search for new places and new faces. I left… Continue reading
The damn twisted road.
The damn twisted road. (April is poetry month. New poetry number eight.) I tried to find a memory; I tried to find a place. I have forgotten how your face looked, and I… Continue reading
One more day. A soldier prayer. And a powerful song by Helena Cinto.
(April is poetry month. New poetry number seven.) A soldier prayer. 1- Young men go to war, old men return. 2- Can you kill and murder? Can you forget the blood on your… Continue reading
Souvenirs.
Souvenirs. An old box filled with simple gifts.Shiny stones from the Big Sur.Seashells from the coast of Europe.Many photo books from the past. Last book my father read.Old silver dollars fathers collected.Father’s silver… Continue reading
The brown eyed girl.
The brown eyed girl A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some women make you wish you were young and free again. They bring to life the desire for you to want to be wild and… Continue reading
The empty jars. And a beautiful Amanda and Maren song.
The empty jars. I watched her in the kitchen organizing the empty mason jars and empty bottles. She told me on a cold Winter morning, I store my dreams in the old mason… Continue reading