Highway poetry..
(Highway poetry-short poemsA Poem by Coyote PoetryJust words) Wander or slowly die.. She was so beautiful.She moved like a wild and free animal.I knew she was untamed and lusted for the free highway.I… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Relationships
Just a slow dance and a beautiful Ana Popovic song.
Just a slow dance.. Once upon a blue moon, the prettiest gal in Ann Arbor loved me. I told the polite bartender. She told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You come here almost every night… Continue reading
Love is blindness and a beautiful Holly Troy song..
Love is blindness… She laughed at his words. Love is blindness, all I can remember, is your face. She gave him a questionable face and she told him. You promise me posy of… Continue reading
When I am done…
When I am done.. I became the old man who waiting for no-one. Once I wanted everything and now. I need little. I wonder where do the old soldiers go? When they are… Continue reading
Love Posies…
Love Posies… His pretty love, dear Veronica told him. You promised me love posies, everyday of my life. You promised me morning posies and you promised to read love posies before we sleep.… Continue reading
The midnight payment.. Some mini-poetry.
The midnight payment … 1- We kissed and we never told. We were midnight dancers, wanting everything and more. Did we find some kind of peace in the serene night? Or did we… Continue reading
I try to remember..
I try to remember A Poem by Coyote Poetry Old poetry with are-write. Written in 1992/rewritten in 2014 I try to remember.. I tried to remember the curves of your body. Us blindfolded … Continue reading
Fairytale ending..
(Johnnie in Germany 1979.) Fairytale ending A Poem by Coyote Poetry Sometime life is fair. We can have a fairytale ending when all things fall into place properly. Fairytale ending.. Love letters are… Continue reading
I hope, I don’t fall in love with you…
I hope, I don’t fall in love with you… I found her sitting alone on the sand at the Seaside beach. You held your whiskey tightly and you wanted to be alone. I… Continue reading
The poet wisp..
The poet wisp… The pretty Texas gal asked me. You are here every Friday and Saturday morning by the Austin River sitting alone. Reading your books and writing into your journal. You read… Continue reading