Monthly Archive: August, 2022

Andrea…

Andrea.. I remembered dear Andrea. A lovely Michigan gal, once was kind to my young heart. I wrote into a notebook. “Time has pass us by, old wounds don’t hurt so badly. Old… Continue reading

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My eyes adored you…

My eyes adored you.. I learn we are made of places and pieces. We are a puzzle being built slowly by time and memories. Old men think too much and the what if?… Continue reading

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The wisp/the kiss, the memory…

The wisp/the kiss, the memory. The Long Island ice tea. A Chapter by Coyote Poetry Part one.                The wisp/ the kiss, the memory. The Long Island ice… Continue reading

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With open eyes..

With open eyes.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Closed eyes can’t see nothing.  With open eyes.. I love the girl who can see beyond the lies. I love the girl who can watch the… Continue reading

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Lady Winchilsea- Anne Finch and my words of appreciation..

Lady Winchilsea- Anne Finch poetry and my words of appreciation. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  I fell in love with their work tonight. I wrote a poem for her.  Song The nymph in vain… Continue reading

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Goodbye my lover..

Goodbye my lover…  I walked to my lover with the liar’s moon above. It was a warm German Fall night, and I walked 20 miles to get to her. I went to say… Continue reading

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Could you? Could we?

Could you? could we? Was a beautiful Michigan Summer day and I held her hand. We walked the circle at Lake St. Clair and she asked me. Could you, could we? Outrun the… Continue reading

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Ladybug wishes…

Lady bug wishes… My dear Ojibwa grandmother told me. If a ladybug lands on you. You can make a wish. Only one. I told my grandchildren. If you see a butterfly dancing in… Continue reading

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The poet’s eyes, the lover’s song…

The poet’s eyes, the lover’s song… A pretty lady glided across the room to me. Her eyes inflamed with the hunger for a dance, sweets words and some kisses. I told her. Dear… Continue reading

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Words, not spoken…

 Words, never spoken… Last two years been very hard. 2020 and 2021, I lost many to cancer and to sickness. Today I miss their voices and I yearn to talk to them again.… Continue reading

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