I need a Summer poem. “The Gypsy dance”
The Gypsy dance A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life is to be celebrated. Love is to make feel alive. Pain teaches us we have lived. The Gypsy dance Late at night on the… Continue reading
The Gypsy dance A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life is to be celebrated. Love is to make feel alive. Pain teaches us we have lived. The Gypsy dance Late at night on the… Continue reading
bellas-storm: (via TumbleOn) Anywhere We had some wine and a few packs of cigarettes and we were heading west. We were California dreaming. You told me I want the sea. I embraced you… Continue reading
I used to be. A Poem by Coyote Poetry The past is gone. What can we do to improve our life and show love and kindness to family and friends. I used to… Continue reading
Love conquered all A Poem by Coyote Poetry Must know love and kindness to know joy and happiness. Love conquered all Lovers drowning in the amorous of sweet kiss, long embrace and the… Continue reading
The walls and the damn mirrors A Poem by Coyote Poetry Can’t hide what we became when we see our reflection in the mirrors The walls and the damn mirrors My father… Continue reading
Dreaming of Texas A Poem by Coyote Poetry Good to have had danced many dances and knew a lot of laughter. A good life isn’t the money in the bank. It is the… Continue reading
Drink of me my dear lover A Story by Coyote Poetry More Texas story. Drink of me my dear lover I loved the Austin Texas nights. Alive and vibrant with people and… Continue reading
(melikemelis.tumblr.com) Purgatory Inn and no place to go. I have the long Island ice tea fresh and cold. Bartender keep them coming. They love the big tippers. Purgatory Inn is open early… Continue reading
Ancient floors In the mirrors of time. Old windows may never be closed. Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better. The broken roads leave me spiraling in the… Continue reading
Killed and killed A Poem by Coyote Poetry A true and sad story of the permanent wounds of war. Killed and killed On Friday night my father drank his rum. He would come… Continue reading