Been awhile my friend.
Been awhile my friend. I visit my good friend, the ground was cold and I brought his favorite beer. I take one Budweiser and I leave the five remainders on his grave. I… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Father
It is cut and dried.
It is cut and dried. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Old words still mean the same. It is cut and dried. Old man sitting at the Old Fox tavern.Drinking his rum and coke… Continue reading
Knuckles red, knuckles bleeding. And an amazing Mary Gauthier song.
Knuckle red, knuckles bleeding. Knuckles red, knuckles bleeding. My father fought and fought, wars that could not be won. He told me in his drunkenness state. He told me. I killed and I… Continue reading
Old soldiers.
(April is poetry month. New poetry number eighteen.) 1- My stepfather was a paratrooper in WW2. He was six foot in height and 200 pounds. Was a police officer for 20 plus year,… Continue reading
The walls and the damn mirrors.
The walls and the damn mirrors A Poem by Coyote Poetry Can’t hide what we became when we see our reflection in the mirrors The walls and the damn mirrors. My father told… Continue reading
Knuckle red, knuckles bleeding. For my father.
Knuckle red, knuckles bleeding… His knuckles red, his knuckles bleeding. My father fought and fought, wars that could not be won.He told me in his drunkenness state. What have I done?He told me.… Continue reading
For my father, Jack. The strong and the blessed.
For my father, Jack. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Our teachers teach us and one day. We must become the teachers. The strong and the blessed. Today I am a old man. I lived… Continue reading
Killed and killed.
Killed and killed A Poem by Coyote Poetry A true and sad story of the permanent wounds of war. Killed and killed. On Friday night my father drank his rum. He would come and… Continue reading
My father/ my grandfather story.
(My father like many Mexicans. Fought for freedom in the Korea war . My illegal Grandfather served in World War two and a white Captain ensure he received his citizenship. Look at the… Continue reading
My father’s mind.
My father’s mind. If you live by the gun, you will die by the gun. Do corpses talk? My father asked me a few time when the rum was aplenty. Who will be… Continue reading