Stand up for the right things..
Stand up for the right things.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Quiet, peace, solitude and loneliness. Places and traces of what we were and are. Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Travel
Dear Florence..
I took the midnight train to Florence, the days of Spring were coming to a ending. I loved the Germany Spring and I needed dear Florence again. The city of Florence stole my… Continue reading
The Gypsy dance..
The Gypsy dance.. Late at night on the Monterey bay.If you listen well,can hear the strong voices and song of the Gypsies.They gather in the Winter to celebrate life and death at the… Continue reading
The brown eyes girl..
The brown eyes girl A Poem by Coyote PoetrySome woman make you wish you were young and free again. They bring to life the desire for you to want to be wild and crazy… Continue reading
Bad behavior and a beautiful Amanda Shires song.
Bad behavior.. Loveliest lady in Port Austin. She waited for no-one on the long pier into Lake Huron. I adored her auburn hair and her wild hazel eyes. She would find me sitting… Continue reading
Sacrificial meal..
Sacrificial meal… She was a tall, long legged Texas girl. She gave me a coy smile. Somehow I caught her attention. I knew, a pursued man are just cattle waiting to be slaughter.… Continue reading
Paris, London, Basel or Barcelona..
Paris, London, Basel or Barcelona…. We were wanderlust, whiskey kisses and sleeping till noon. We loved clotheless mornings and afternoon meals. We loved loud music and we loved the sea. I would tell… Continue reading
Dear Florence..
I took the midnight train to Florence, the days of Spring were coming to a ending. I loved the Germany Spring and I needed dear Florence again. The city of Florence stole my… Continue reading
Dear Monterey..
Dear Monterey.. The kind Gods took me from war to you dear Monterey. I joined wars to try to die the proper death. Suicide, I couldn’t do. War didn’t want my death. The… Continue reading
I am still alive..
I am still alive.. She told me, soldier, bleed no-more. What is done, is done. Like a Hemingway story. Twisted roads lead to our proper place. I looked at the dark eyes Gypsy… Continue reading