jcastellenas-Coyote

Poetry, story and music.

writing

  • She wore flowers in her hair.

    She wore flowers in her hair. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Good memories get better with time.”                        She wore flowers in her hair. I have descended to scattered dreams, and I lost my place in life. I decide a trip was needed. I was told in Vienna. The wine was sweet and the city… Read more

  • The heartstrings.

    (Old memories become sweet dreams in old age. Johnnie and Daniela in 1979.) The heartstrings. She poured the sweet red wine into her Grandparent borrowed wine glasses with soft and tender hands. Her eyes of river blue looked into his eyes. He knew she was playing him like a violin. Her gentle and sweet voice… Read more

  • When did I get old?

    1- Time isn’t kind to us.. Once I was a soldier,  once I was a business man and now I am a old man. I told the Lake St. Clair. What we did yesterday, doesn’t matter no-more. And what we became, is who we suppose to be. Old sin, old hate and old regret is… Read more

  • SOS.

    SOS. 1- When a poet cries, he cried alone. He writes his tears to paper and allows them to be settle into a journal. Sometime madness can find us, and we forget to scream an SOS. Did Hemingway tell anyone. I am done? What was Phil Ochs last thoughts? 2- Are whiskey written words, less true. When… Read more

  • First day of Autumn. September 21.

    First day of Autumn.  1- The warm days of Summer are holding on. The grandchildren want to swim in Lake St. Clair and to enjoy the warm days of Autumn. The leave is turning and Halloween is coming. The kind days of September. I do love. 2- I have learned. Life is like the four… Read more

  • A cradle hymn.

    A cradle hymn. “Hush little baby. Don’t you cry.Daddy going buy you a hummingbird.If the bird. It doesn’t sing.Daddy going buy you a diamond ring.” Poor little baby.Alone and scare.The child will be going to the daycare. Mama and daddy must both work.Minimum pay world leave the house in stress.Poor mama and daddy do their… Read more

  • I tried to memorize her face.

    I tried to memorize her face. She was my midnight dancer and she loved the sea.She didn’t like loud people, and she sought the quiet of the Monterey Bay.She adored band night in the Monterey taverns and the poetry readings in Pacific Groves.I tried to memorize her beautiful face, and I needed to hear her… Read more

  • The red dress. Raging water.

    I saw your laying nude alone in our king size bed and I’m writing though-out the night just words into the stream of the internet, forgetting the once powerful need for your body nearby. Serene night can leave two people on different paths. Love will fade if it doesn’t know attention and care. Love is… Read more

  • We must be, like a sea.

    We must be, like a sea (“Bacchus wine are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier pleasure; Rich the pleasure, sweet the pleasure, sweet is the pleasure after pain.”—-John Dryden) I told the Pacific Ocean, I have forgotten more than I remember. I danced alone for the midnight moon, moving and grooving to the sound of… Read more

  • She ambushed my heart.

    She ambushed my heart. The poet near the sea sings a lullaby. Tra la, la, la. Was the prettiest gal in Michigan and I loved her so. Jenny, Jenny. I remember you. Tra la, la. Once sweet girl ambushed my heart. Once sweet and sensual Jenny told me, “Come live with me and be my… Read more