I was Doc Holliday and you were my Texas gal.
I was Doc Holiday and you were my Texas gal. “Doc Holliday prayer. I pray I die with a gun in my hand; I pray I die with a pretty Texas dancing gal… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
Beautiful Maria showed me the way to the fray.
A woman, too pretty to be near me. She took my hands and she told me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You must find the Fray. Your organized life is killing you and your dead dreams… Continue reading
We prayed for more. And an amazing Serena Ryder song.
Wild and free. 1- I was seeking you; you were seeking me. You knew I was near the Monterey Bay. I was writing words for the Pacific Ocean, and I was thinking of… Continue reading
Love is a cruel mistress. A Texas hurricane.
Love is a cruel mistress. You called me on a Sunny Friday, and you asked me. Please Johnnie, meet me in Austin, Texas at midnight. I am feeling lonely, I need to dance… Continue reading
The day is gone and the darkness is here.
The day is gone and the dark nights are here. I never liked the month of December. I seem to lose more than I gained. Once, after a war, I returned home and… Continue reading
Please come home with me.
Please come home with me. Was Tuesday and I leading the poetry reading at the Monterey coffee shop. Was a good night and we read, we listen and we appreciate the poet’s words.… Continue reading
The Texas Jazz, I do need. Dear Jenny.
“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.… Continue reading
Je t’aime- I love you. And a beautiful song by dear Lara Fabian.
Je t’aime- I love you You told me in Paris once. “Je t’aime my Johnnie.” Your words like sweet wine overtook my mind and heart. Today I remembered you. Dark brown eyes and… Continue reading
The ballad of the angry woman. And a beautiful Mean Mary song.
(April is poetry month. New poetry number twelve.) The ballad of the angry woman. She was an unbounded lady sitting alone at Happy Hour in the Monterey Irish Pub. Long Island Ice Teas,… Continue reading
The hills and the Apache.
The hills and the Apache. A Poem by Coyote Poetry “An old poem when I was seeking who I was. Written in 1992.” The hills and the Apache. I had a bottle of good… Continue reading