I was Doc Holiday and you were my Austin 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 →

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Remembering Phil Ochs. The war is over. SOS.

SOS.. 1- When a poet cries, he cried alone. He write his tears to paper and allow them to be settle into a journal. Sometime madness can find us and we forget to… Continue reading →

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More Sunday poetry. The prettiest girl in my world..

The prettiest girl in my world.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Pretty places, pretty faces. We need the canvas of perfects days and kind people, always in our heart.  The prettiest girl in my… Continue reading →

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Maybe love, maybe not?

Maybe love, maybe not? A Poem by Coyote Poetry  The heart never forget the first or our first love.  Maybe love, maybe not? Poem one-  Dear Bridgette, please allow me to hold you in… Continue reading →

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A million kisses…

A million kisses.. She asked me. How many kisses do you need? I told her, I need a million kisses dear Bridgette. She laughed and she asked. Why so many? I told her,… Continue reading →

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Sunday poetry- The Dove of peace..

1- The Dove of peace. If we release the Dove of peace.  Will the blind and hateful men of war kill her? Where can the Dove of peace go today? In our messy… Continue reading →

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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 →

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The fragrance of time..

The fragrance of time… We cannot stop time. Youth run away from us so quickly. We must have a Gypsy soul. We must know wonder-lust, we must kiss many pretty ladies and we… Continue reading →

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The elixir..

 The Elixir… She had the Bacchus wine a plenty. She had found a dark corner to drink away the world. She was pissed-off lady drinking alone. I watched her and she was praying… Continue reading →

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The ballad of the pissed-off girl..

The ballad of the pissed-off lady… She was unbounded and a wounded pretty lady drinking alone. She loved the silence, she loved the whiskey and she loved the sea. She didn’t want to… Continue reading →

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