jcastellenas-Coyote

Poetry, story and music.

The sea

  • Don’t look at me with disappointment.

    (Do not become what the world wants you to be. We are all different. Needing more or less. Like yourself and be kind to the people near.) Don’t look at me with disappointment. Don’t look at me,don’t give me those sad looks of disappointment.I don’t care what you see. I’m breaking down walls andI’m not… Read more

  • Please hold my hands. Dear Amanda.

    Please hold my hands. Please hold my hands, please hold my heart. Please kiss me so softly and make me believe in the heaven mist. Let’s walk near the sea together and we can watch the stars rise in the night and fall into the sea at dawn. For you are my love love, dearest… Read more

  • Painting pretty pictures.

    Painting pretty pictures. Tonight I am drinking the Irish coffee and I am remembering better days. I am painting pretty pictures with my words and I am trying to remember your face. I am trying to remember your coffee brown eyes and the gentleness of your voice. I added some Gentleness Jack to the Irish… Read more

  • Dear Maggie. And the great Rod Stewart music.

    Dear Maggie. She was my sea dancer, she was a kind lover. Now, she is a lasting memory, and she is tattoos on my mind. I was being loco, drinking and trying to find death. She took my hand in the late Winter of 1992 and she told me. Death can wait and the sea… Read more

  • Resemble love.

    Resembled love A Poem by Coyote Poetry True love is rare and hard to find. Resembled love Pretty as a perfect picture and she gave me sly smile and a wink. I was weary of a beautiful woman who tempted me and ran. She listened to my poetry, and I introduced another Poet at the Poetry reading.… Read more

  • The waltz.

    The waltz. We were doing a waltz upon the beach.The waves were the orchestra,the wind was whispering a love song. I tossed her into a twirl andI brought her back to me. By the light of the moon.Two lovers danced the movement of freedomand celebrating being alive. We come back to the ocean after each… Read more

  • Sin, gin and skin.

    Sin, gin and skin. The bar poet, the bar storyteller told stories to the desperate people. He told them, we will have rainy days and the rain will stop. The sun will return. Bad days, become fewer bad days. One day, we will find what we need. Sin, gin and skin. Lowest of men will… Read more

  • Stitches.

    Stitches. I remember her last words. The million hellos were erased by a midnight goodbye. Once we entwined our lives and now in my secret place. A million fingerprints, leftover reminders. I painted on her tender and raw skin, love words. Over and over till they became meaningless. Somehow the love words made her bleed… Read more

  • My dearest Monterey butterfly.

    My dearest Monterey butterfly. She shrouded her face in fake smiles and she wanted little. I called her my Monterey butterfly, always escaping when someone wanted to get close. She adored the sea; she loved to dance alone on the Monterey Bay seaside. I told her dear Angela, love and men are thieves. Always wanting… Read more

  • Poetry for the Pacific Ocean.

    Poetry for the Pacific Ocean. I love to hear the orchestra of the Pacific Ocean.. The choir of the moving water, the hymn of the crashing waves and if we listen, maybe we can hear a siren song. When we adore the ocean, she can delight our hearts and we can love her tender melody. She can… Read more