Some words and Saturday verbal poetry by amazing ladies
Maybe Bukowski The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He… Continue reading
Maybe Bukowski The silence poet read his words on the first Tuesday night of each month. Otherwise his voice is quiet, he prefer the Salinger way over Hemingway loudness. He… Continue reading
Hemingway’s whiskey Hemingway saw war, he loved, he drank and he danced with the pretty gals throughout the four corners of my world. I tried to follow his path, to seek… Continue reading
Looking for my Agnes Hemingway wrote of his Agnes. A love, who saved him and left him. Hemingway learn. Love in war, just gifts of the survivors. We must go home. Took J.… Continue reading
Write, write and write some more A Poem by Coyote Poetry Words are powerful. They create tears, laughter, happiness and sadness. Without the great word-men and word-women. What would we know and understand? … Continue reading
Yesterday I am in the Fall of a life. Death whispered in my ear. Old heart and my tire soul seem to need and want less. Maybe I have given-in, given-up. … Continue reading
Concrete angel It was a Spring morning in Austin, Texas in 1995. The yearly poetry weekend was here. My favorite time of the year. My only attempt at verbal poetry for me… Continue reading
My Hemingway wish After World War one. Many great writers gathered in the city of light, dear Paris. She was a place where artist, poets and writers painted their wonders, wrote their… Continue reading
In love with a Bonnie girl The soldier drank the Johnnie Walker whiskey in a Austin, Texas tavern. He had came here every Friday for three months to talk to a Scottish… Continue reading
Je t’aime A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words 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… Continue reading
Je t’aime A Poem by Coyote Poetry Just words 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… Continue reading