The haunting echoes and dangerous dreams.
The haunting echoes and the dangerous dreams. 1- I told the morning, yesterday is gone and today is here. I go to my garden, and I remember my grandfather’s words. Johnnie, you did… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Family
Everyone is a river.
She sat in her bra and pantie, her bare feet moving and dancing in water of Lake Superior. I adored watching her and I traced her body with my eyes. I loved her… Continue reading
An empty bottle.
An empty bottle. My whiskey dreams, my last grasp at love or the emptiness at the end of the empty bottle. The broken pieces of my life laid shattered. Once sweet songs had… Continue reading
Ojibwa Grandmother hope and wishes.
Ojibwa Grandmother hopes and wishes. A Poem by Coyote PoetryI 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
We are, what we leave behind.
We are, what we leave behind. I remember the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She was an Ojibwa woman who lost everything and she kept her human emotions of kindness and… Continue reading
A letter.
A letter. Sometime cigarettes, good booze and a pen can give a man a reason to be alive. When we parachute blind into love.Even a renegade spirit can be broken.I tried to hide… Continue reading
The Nightingale song.
The Nightingale song. The Ojibwa grandfather volunteered to watch the five grandchildren and he took them to the big water. He told them if you listen well, you can hear the nightingale songs… Continue reading
A safe harbor. And an amazing Harry Chapin song.
A safe harbor. I saw her sitting alone on a park bench. She had a suitcase near her and she watched the sea. She was a pretty girl with sad eyes. I went… Continue reading
Grandfather told me often. Life is like a garden.
The roses are coming alive. Early June blooming for my grandfather roses. My red and yellow sunflower plants growing strong. They will be 8- and 12-foot plants in August. Photo from August 2025.… Continue reading
Like father.
Like Father… A Poem by Coyote Poetry Do we become our parent? Do we follow their footsteps. Like father. My father, like most men. He learned to hide is sadness and disappointment. He… Continue reading