The animal.
The animal. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Who is the real loser in a war? Is there a winner? The prisoners may seem weak and controlled. Hope and memory allowed the energy to endure… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
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Blood laced pen.
Blood laced pen. Fight or flee? love or hate? stay or go? Laugh or cry? I wonder what Hemingway remembered in his last moment. Did he remember war or the face of Agnes?… Continue reading
Just a slow dance.
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
A new Halloween tale. Lestat’s coffee shop conversation.
Lestat’s coffee shop conversation. Was a quiet San Diego night. I read my poetry at a poetry reading next to the Lestat’s coffee shop. I read an old poem. ” Bitter branches Old… Continue reading
The human touch.
The human touch. A Poem by Coyote PoetryThe easiest gift to give is concern, time and to listen. In a world of fast pace and little time. We must slow down and show the… Continue reading
My November thoughts. Old poetry with same meaning today.
My November thoughts. Once I needed everything and I learned. Everything wasn’t needed. November is coming and the cooler and slower days I do love. I am in the November of my life.… Continue reading
Happy Halloween. Saving Amber. Part three and four.
Saving Amber- part three A Chapter by Coyote Poetry“What hide in the dark. It will come out and hunt” … Continue reading
Happy Halloween. Saving Amber. Part one and two.
Saving Amber- part one A Chapter by Coyote PoetryA story, part one. Saving Amber… Part one. Coyote and his baby coyotes were looking for a monster. His friend Amber been having dreams she was… Continue reading
Happy Halloween. Never talk to strangers.
Never talk to a stranger.. The last tavern on the Austin, Texas street “Fifth street”. Low music and people seeking conversation. Pretty lady sat with me and she ordered a double shot of… Continue reading
The ashes and the fire.
The ashes and the fire… My dearest love, my serene memory. I remember us. We loved the midnight hours, locked door and to be 3 am wild and free. The German Winter made… Continue reading