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
Like my Father.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Do we become our parent? Do we follow their footsteps. Like my father.. My father, like most men. He learned to hide is sadness and… Continue reading
My father’s war… A Poem by Coyote Poetry queerest 1 a : differing in some way from what is usual or normal : odd, strange, weird “How queer it seems,” Alice said to herself,… Continue reading
The sins of our father’s. A Poem by Coyote Poetry We can learn kindness from living and seeing hate and violence. (My father at sixty-one in 1998. The only time, he saw my… Continue reading
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
A little mercy now.. My father never cried, he never complained about life. My father rarely smiled with the burden of life surrounding him. His body and heart gave up, in the struggle… Continue reading
Sins of our father. A Poem by Coyote Poetry We can learn kindness from living and seeing hate and violence. Father’s eyes and anger.. Is my father’s eyes and anger.Are they mine now?… Continue reading
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