One more cup of coffee my dearest love..
One more cup of coffee my dearest. ( April is poetry month. Poem number four.) He made two cups of coffee with a pinch of sugar and light cream. He watched dear Susi… Continue reading
Tag Archive: short-story
You are so beautiful..
You are so beautiful.. The paradox of life. We will know more sadness than happiness. Poor Lucy sat alone hugging her Black Velvet whiskey and cussing at her world. I went to her… Continue reading
The heartstrings..
The heartstrings.. She poured the sweet red wine into her Grandparent borrowed wine glasseswith soft and tender hands. Her eyes of river blue looked into my eyes.He knew she was playing him like… Continue reading
The stone face man..
The stone face man A Poem by Coyote Poetry Everybody got a story. Some folks understand. No-one want to hear them anyway. Stone face man.. In old New Orleans 1993. I found a… Continue reading
Neon highway..
Neon highway A Poem by Coyote Poetry Easy to be blinded and accept less. Neon highway.. Beautiful woman sometime can get lost.Love become just another four letter words used to create emotion and… Continue reading
We must slow down my darling…
We must slow down my darling… Drunkest poet, drunkest soldier in Austin, Texas. He wrote to a journal. “Nothing is lost, nothing is gain, we will back step, we will fall forward and… Continue reading
Slip and fall.
Slip and fall.. I requested some kind words. I asked her to tell me. I love you. Please tell me, you will wait for me and please make these seconds, we have left.… Continue reading
Two out of three ain’t bad..
Two out of three ain’t bad.. I was sitting alone in a Austin tavern in 1996.Drinking long Island ice teas.Trying to get blinded. A old man dressed poorly ordered a water.Bartender gave him… Continue reading
Please remember who you were..
Please remember who you were.. I saw a old friend sitting alone in a Austin, Texas at the coffee shop. Her eyes looking down at the table and her coffee, hiding her sorrow.… Continue reading
Love is like a hammer..
Love is like a hammer… I left Michigan in 1991 and I sat in the jazz club at 12 pm, trying to write a poem. The Jazz man was playing the songs, so… Continue reading