Sin, gin and skin…


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Sin, gin and skin…

We were the Tuesday night poets,

we shared words with the writers and the poets,

we shared words with the lonely at the Irish tavern at Pacific Grove.

You and I,

we called ourselves the sin, gin and skin poets.

We sang our words out-loud about love-lost and love-gained.

You were a beauty with the Alaska Winter heart and

I was the dead man walking.

You told me often.

Johnnie, thank you for the gin, the sin and you.

You never tell me stories and hold me tightly when I am lonely,

accepting me, ugly face and all.

I told her.

Some folks love “Love”.

Some folks love the gin and

some folks love the sin.

Barren heart accept less,

just waiting for a wish and a miracle.

She smiled and she brought me close.

Maybe too late for love, maybe time for friendship my love.

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A Poem by Coyote Poetry

O sweet you are, O brave you be and O darling. I love you as-is. My rose-cheeked gal, you never promised me anything and you loved to live. We loved to hear the nightingale songs and observe the sea rise and fall. I told you often. Delia, my Delia. I want you to reveal you true face and for us to taste the forlorn of love kiss, be pierced by love touch.

I told you often, the poet wasn’t killed off by the chronicle of love destined goodbyes. Damn life had stole my smile, my laughter. Delia, Delia. You make my heart dance with hope and please allow love to bloom. It is late April and the lilies are blooming and I would follow you to anywhere. Please follow me…

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