Tag Archive: poetry

The war, the blood and the gun.

The war, the blood and the gun No-one is screaming for the child of war. They have known only blood and the sound of war. Who do we blame my friend? War is… Continue reading →

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Johnnie singing the blues.

 Johnnie singing the blues I am living and I am dying, I am moving and grooving to some heavy jazz. Dreaming of your pretty face and wishing to hear your voice. My secret… Continue reading →

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Delicate flower.

Delicate flower A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some people and places are perfect. They are delicate flowers and perfect places.                                 Delicate flower I was a wore and torn man, receded into the whiskey… Continue reading →

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The value of one life

The value of one life Men in offices, in Washington D.C. Screaming out, kill, fight and murder those son of bitches. They are the enemy? ———————————————————————————————————- Maybe the enemy are with-in the walls.… Continue reading →

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Thank you for the dance

Thank you for the dance Once, by the sea. We confessed love to each other and to the Pacific ocean. Once, we danced. Danced for the moon and for the stars above. Once,… Continue reading →

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Holy as love

  A moment, of forever                      “Holy as love You were my Winter prayer, my Christmas miracle. We found a safe place to keep… Continue reading →

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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… Continue reading →

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The waterfall

“Hearts awry Wary ghostly grasp Weary lonely gasp Yet I can’t hold Enclasp” Robert.   Waterfall “Hearts awry Wary ghostly grasp Weary lonely gasp Yet I can’t hold Enclasp” The night is silence,… Continue reading →

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Nothing remains the same

Now nothing remains the same     Your name came to me late in the midnight hour. Brought back the canvas of your perfect body, kind smile and your beautiful face. Your name,… Continue reading →

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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… Continue reading →

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