Dear Angela..
Dear Angela A Poem by Coyote Poetry We can fall so low and deep. Need someone to pull us up to see daylight. Dear Angela… Her beauty had lessen with time.The circle of… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Online Writing
A December morning.. And a beautiful Alexia Evellyn song.
December morning… The days of December are here. Kind earth is resting and we must become Winter people. The fire are burning and grandfathers must become the story tellers. He must entice the… Continue reading
She is free…
She is free —————————————————————————————– She found me at the Pacific, she taught me how to dance with the sea, she taught me to love Irish coffee and she taught me. love should be… Continue reading
Empty spaces…
Empty spaces.. Once I was dancing, rambling, drinking and free man. I was seeking the good death. Wanted to test my mind, I wanted to test my body. I wanted to understand war,… Continue reading
Please tell me, how you lived…
Please tell me, how you lived? The old poet told the people at the poetry reading. Dead men, do not rise. He read some quotes. “For each man kills the things he loves,… Continue reading
Traveling and rambling man..
Traveling and rambling man… Old Johnnie sat alone in the tavern in the city of Austin, Texas. Drinking Long Islands ice teas and accepted his time and place. He knew, you decide your… Continue reading
Did I ever love you?
Did I ever love you? Dying,lying,needing,bleeding. Pretty Poet, she sang her words sweet and sadly to willing listeners at the Poetry reading in Monterey coffee shop. Love is just myth and tale,love is… Continue reading
Mercy, mercy me…
Mercy, mercy me.. We were Long Island ice teas and long talks,we were free-climbers of the free mountains and we loved dancing with the Pacific.You were the most beautiful woman, I ever seen.I… Continue reading
Windmills of your mind…
Windmills of your mind.. Grandfather told me often, life move quickly, make the good day last longer and forget the bad days. Now old age is upon me, the windmills of my mind,… Continue reading
La petite mort…
La petite mort.. She was a portrait of beauty.Her love was locked away, waiting for the perfect man and the gentle embrace. She asked me. Was any kindness or good left in me?… Continue reading