The twisted dance of love..
The twisted dance of love. (written in 1988) A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words. A rewrite from December 1988. The twisted dance of love… (Written in 1988) I lay beside you in… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
I try to remember..
I try to remember A Poem by Coyote Poetry Old poetry with are-write. Written in 1992/rewritten in 2014 I try to remember.. I tried to remember the curves of your body. Us blindfolded… Continue reading
A lullaby for dear Luna. And a beautiful Sophia song.
A lullaby for dear Luna… Once I chased the moon, once I sang to her, great songs of love. “Dear Luna, you are a miracle to behold, please come and dance with me… Continue reading
Can you catch a falling leaf?
Can you catch a falling leaf?….. The days of October are here and I did the greatest sin. I returned to a place of magic trying to find the scent of yesterday. Time… Continue reading
I can’t bleed, no-more..
I can’t bleed, no-more. —————————————————————— In Austin, Texas Johnnie don’t cry no-more for love, he don’t look for things… Continue reading
She was dancing alone..
She was dancing alone… She was dancing alone. Moving her bare feet slow and easy to the Jazz songs. She looked into my eyes and she waved me to come to her. I… Continue reading
We must slow down my darling and a beautiful IMANY song.
We must slow down my darling… Drunkest poet, drunkest soldier in Austin, Texas. He wrote to a journal.“Nothing is lost,nothing is gain,we will back step,we will fall forward and we will get up.This is… Continue reading
A solace and a blessing..
A solace and a blessing. . . The good cognac and German wines kept me in my woeful and tranquil state. I was lost, fainthearted and raging mad at life. Death and dreams were… Continue reading
A Robert Frost verbal poem and three poems.
“I loved the hard climb, the untouched path. I listen for the flowing river and I go to her. Rarely do I see people. I sit with the trees, the free animals and… Continue reading
A song of forever..
A song of forever… A song of forever, she didn’t want to sing. She had shun love and she wanted endless night, loud music and her colorful cotton dresses. She was my hippy… Continue reading