The darkest days.
The darkest days (Johnnie returned to Big Sur, older and grayer.) Winter of 1992 is holding on and I’m hiding out on Highway one. I brought the vodka and pineapple juice to Big… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
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My secret love. And a beautiful Doris Day song.
Secret loveA Poem by Coyote Poetry “Let’s the bells ring, and let the boy sing, let the cup go around.” John Fletcher Secret love. You bare your words, exposing secret places and thoughts.… Continue reading
When the drinker prays.
When the drinker prays. Once brave man, once soldiers, once business man and now a grandfather. He watched his world fall into madness and he pours three fingers of Gentleman Jack. Once he… Continue reading
Pretty pictures.
Pretty pictures. I loved love, but love didn’t love me. I told the pretty Austin, Texas gal. I adored her bare shoulders and her black dress that draped her skin tightly. She smiled… Continue reading
The simple rules.
The simple rules. “Do not wrong or hate your neighbor, for it is not him that you wrong, you wrong yourself.”Thomas Wildcat AlfordShawnee “The grandfathers and the grandmothers are in the children: teach… Continue reading
Old love.
Old love. She called me at midnight and she whispered. Johnnie, Johnnie. Do you remember me? I am so damn lonely tonight and please Johnnie. Can I come to you tonight? I told… Continue reading
The Coyote and the Raven dance.
The Coyote and Raven dance. The coyote was dancing for the half-moon, he moved and weaved into the deep forest and he knew. His beautiful friend was watching him celebrate the night. The… Continue reading
A song of forever.
A song of forever. A song of forever, she didn’t want to sing. She had shunned love and she wanted endless night, loud music and her colorful cotton dresses. She was my hippy… Continue reading
The world is crying. Old words, same meaning.
The world is crying A Poem by Coyote Poetry I found this poem in a old book. It is 43 years old. (Please do not forget Renee and Alex. Please remember the cities under… Continue reading
Highway 80 called me.
Highway 80 called me. A Poem by Coyote Poetry I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the long highway. Highway 80 called me I’m tire, so damn tired. Somehow, I got… Continue reading