Tag Archive: Writing

Dust in the wind..

Dust in the wind.. Was the early Winter of 1992 and I landed In California. I left home to go to war in the Spring of 1991. I was tired and I wanted… Continue reading

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Ashtrays, whiskey and the pen..

Ashtrays, whiskey and the pen… I loved downtown Austin, Texas. No-one is a stranger. Just people seeking good booze, music and opportunity. I like the comfort of a cigarette, Jack Daniels and time… Continue reading

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The dance…

The dance A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Many kinds of opportunities for the dance. A wise person is fearless in life. If you take no chances. You won’t know what you could of done… Continue reading

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Bad behavior..

Bad behavior.. Loveliest lady in Port Austin. She waited for no-one on the long pier into Lake Huron. I adored her auburn hair and her wild hazel eyes. She would find me sitting… Continue reading

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Do not go into the night quiet my friend.

Where today are the Pequot Where are the Narragansett, the Mohican, the Pokanoket, and many other once powerful tribes of our people They have vanished before the avarice and the oppression of the… Continue reading

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Beautiful stranger..

Beautiful stranger.. Sitting alone in the corner in a piano bar bar in Austin, Texas.Reflecting on things lost on the road. Strangers are around me.Whispering secret to their lovers.Under the dim lights.Where words are twisted to revive passion… Continue reading

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Do you know me?

Do you know me? Pretty girl sat by the motel window. She is watching the ocean and the coming storm from the western sea. She is drinking coffee and waiting for a reason… Continue reading

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Morning glory..

Morning glory A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Good to open your eyes and see the glory of the new day and beauty near.                                 Morning glory.. The smell of fresh coffee and pancakes cooking… Continue reading

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I remember you. I need a warm day.

I remember you.. The summer days were long andthe splendor of the blue skies and the bright sun.Beckon us to the sea. The heat of hot days.Thaw our cold hearts.The beauty of Monterey… Continue reading

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January calling..

Dear December.. The war couldn’t kill me and I returned home in 1992 and I called you.A sweet voice answered the phone and you whispered.Dear Johnnie, please come home to me. I would… Continue reading

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