Tag Archive: Coyote Poetry

Johnnie “YouTube” verbal poetry.

Thank you for listening….

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Write, write and write some more…

Write, write and write some more A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Words are powerful. They create tears, laughter, happiness and sadness. Without the great word-men and word-women. What would we know and understand?                              … Continue reading

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Peace, sweet peace. We have forgotten you…

Peace, sweet peace. We have forgotten you. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  I’m tire of war. Where are the men and women of peace? Where are the calm voices in a world gone mad?… Continue reading

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Why do we write story and poetry?

Why do we write story and poetry? A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Old wise saying. “Nothing good to say. Say nothing.”   Poetry, my dear friends,is a sacred incarnation of a smile.Poetry is a… Continue reading

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Existence of love…

Existence of love…. Ice cream with a cherry.A safe warm house.A big yard to play in. Kind smiles and words.Missed in my old age.Dear Grandmother told me before I left for war.“Too many… Continue reading

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Beautiful Brigitte…

Beautiful Brigitte A Poem by Coyote Poetry Beautiful Brigitte               (Few people touch our hearts who want nothing in return.               I was thankful 43 years ago and today for my blue eyes               Angel who picks… Continue reading

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Grandmother hope and wishes..

Grandmother hope and wishes. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  I lost my Ojibwa Grandmother in 1981. She had a hard life. You would never know. She loved her children and wanted them to know… Continue reading

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Father’s burden….

Father’s burden. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  My father taught me to appreciate laughter and woman.  Father’s burden….           (My father was a Ojibwa/Mexican man in 1950 USA. He never allowed anyone to… Continue reading

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Like father…

(Last photo of father in 1996. He died two weeks later. 61 years old. Booze and war, did him in.) Like father. A Poem by Coyote Poetry  Blood of father flowed in my vein… Continue reading

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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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