Unknown soldier…
Unknown soldiers.,.. (April poetry number nineteen.) He wrote to his journal in a Soldier graveyard in France outside of Paris in 1979. The dead don’t suffer no-more. He is surrounded by 40,000 crosses… Continue reading
Unknown soldiers.,.. (April poetry number nineteen.) He wrote to his journal in a Soldier graveyard in France outside of Paris in 1979. The dead don’t suffer no-more. He is surrounded by 40,000 crosses… Continue reading
A California free man once… Hanging with Jim tonight. (April poetry number eighteen.) Took me 33 years of life, dead brothers and broken heart to learn. Life is more than me. I drove… Continue reading
Lovers in Paris… She whispered to me, “O my love, O my love. Make me feel alive. I plucked a rose for us today and I told the red rose. Where had my… Continue reading
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.… Continue reading
You can’t run from yourself… I thought I had chameleon skin. My face could change with the weather, the continent. Once a blushing beauty told me. You are so handsome. Please show me… Continue reading
Barefoot dreams A Story by Coyote Poetry Good places and friends make distance places good dreams in old age. Barefoot dreams… I met the Sergeant Major nightly at the Bowling alley, dance club… Continue reading
A safe place to go…. I’m dreaming of Big Sur.I’m wanting to be at the River Inn.Listening to good music and drinking the good wine. The California coastline saved my life once.I found… Continue reading
Come live with me and be my love A Poem by Coyote Poetry I stole a line from the great writer Christopher Marlowe Come live with me and be my love… (Come live… Continue reading
Souvenirs A Poem by Coyote Poetry The odd things we hold special in old age. Souvenirs…. A old box filled with simple gifts.Shiny stones from the Big Surf.Sea shells from the coast of… Continue reading
Why do we write story and poetry? A Poem by Coyote Poetry Old wise saying. “Nothing good to say. Say nothing.” Poetry, my dear friends,is a sacred incarnation of a smile.Poetry is a sigh… Continue reading