Wicked games, we do play..
Wicked games, we do play… 1- We stole kisses, we said so many words of lies. We loved the wicked game. We adored our naked nights, where we shared sin and gin. We… Continue reading
My due reward..
My due reward… Once the kindest girl in Michigan told me. Please don’t die. You love your damn wars, maybe if you loved me more, you would leave the damn Army and stay… Continue reading
Love is a careless child..
Love is a careless child.. Her skin whiter than Winter snow and her trembling lips of soft pink tempted the fearless man. His boldness lacked the confident of his youth. He had learn… Continue reading
Reflections..
Reflections A Poem by Coyote Poetry Words have great power. Use them well. Reflection.. Writers and Poets write reflections like a painter uses his gentle strokes to create permanent images of lingering memories.… Continue reading
Lady Mischief..
Lady mischief… The Coyote told the falling Sun, the rising moon. I need less hard days, I need more easy day, cooler nights. I want deep and soulful jazz, the long river near… Continue reading
A wing and a prayer..
A wing and a prayer.. He told the Lake St. Clair. We become, who suppose become. Hell-bound life can lead us to place of peace. He told the lady of the lake. Kind… Continue reading
A poet’s love and a beautiful Lorde song.
“As long as the poet’s words live, the beloved will be, in a way, still alive too.” Shakespeare “If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.”― Mike Everett “If a… Continue reading
My Ojibwa Grandma hope and wishes
I believe she wanted the old memories dead and forgotten.She lived for us children and her son. I had to go out west. Find kind elders to show me the right path.They showed… Continue reading
Blood and wine..
( Death Valley. Took my unit six months to clean up bodies and damaged vehicles.) Blood and wine. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Life teaches us many things. Sometime we must fight for the… Continue reading
I don’t remember how you looked..
(Dreams can become nightmares. Nightmares can become sweet dreams one day.) I don’t remember how you looked… I don’t remember how you looked. Your eyes were blue, maybe hazel green? Your hair golden blond or maybe… Continue reading