Please follow me and I will follow you.
Please follow me and I will follow you… 1- She was my favorite girl in Monterey. She could paint her world and she wrote like Mark Twain. She was stubborn gal from Ohio… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
I tried..
J.D Salinger… My mentor dear J. D Salinger. I pray you found peace. Life taught you to seek loneliness. You saw the bloody war, opened up the death camps for the world to… Continue reading
The fingerprints.
The fingerprints…I washed the blankets and I washed the sheets. I opened the Window wide and the damn cold air awoke my memory of you. On a September night in the Fall, you… Continue reading
I want to dance with you tonight.
(Easy life and quiet death-Sir Walter Scott) (We poets in our youth begin with gladness; but there off in the end despondency and madness- Wordsworth) I want to dance with you tonight. Sober… Continue reading
The madness train.
The madness train A Poem by Coyote Poetry Time to know what real pleasure is. Before it is too late. The Madness train. I’m twisted up. Hogties to bullshit. I’m strangled with useless… Continue reading
The sweet Melody of love.
The sweet Melody of love A Poem by Coyote Poetry Without love. What do we become? The sweet Melody of love.. We were lovers once. Your words upon a sheet of paper saved… Continue reading
The city of lights or anywhere.
The city of lights or anywhere. We sat drinking the American whiskey in a Paris tavern where Dear Hemingway drank his whiskey. I love Paris, kind Paris hide the secrets well. Lover’s danced… Continue reading
Did we love? Did we bleed?
Did we love? Did we bleed? Oh, la, la, l, dear love, I sang to you, I sang for us.We were whiskey nights and whiskey kisses.I loved you more than life and you… Continue reading
Just a song.
Just a song… Pretty girl asked him for a dance. He saw the prettiest gal he ever seen and he told her. Would be my pleasure. She smiled and she told him. Merci… Continue reading
The willow tree.
The willow trees…. Old poet told the girl. We must try to go back to where we were, if we can.The bright eyed girl asked with wonder, dear poet, I come to you… Continue reading