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
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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
I want to fall in love again.
I want to fall in love again… Last year man prayed to Selena, the moon goddess on a warm Fall night. He told her, near the dancing Pacific ocean. The drunk man is… Continue reading
Truth or dare.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry Take no chances. Have no adventures. Truth or dare. Life, my friend. A odd game that no-one can win.I do like the game of truth or dare. I… Continue reading
The midnight hours.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry Great thoughts come to us in the midnight hour. Wishes for a sweet hello or some knowledge of the kind people in our life, If they are okay? … Continue reading
Fool’s wish. Lover’s hold on.
Fool’s wish. Lover’s hold on. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Love is all we got. Love for your lover, family and life. Give us reasons to be alive. Dreams can become nightmares. Nightmares can… Continue reading
Another time, another place.
Another time, another place….. The loneliness man at Fort Hood volunteered for missions in Central American. He wanted to escape everything and he wanted to taste the Hemingway’s tropical paradise. Once he sought… Continue reading
Killed and killed.
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 and… Continue reading