Grandfather’s roses..
Grandfather’s rose bushes… My grandfather loved his roses. He would care for them and ensure they survived the Winter. He was a story-teller and he loved his story of the roses. He told… Continue reading
Tag Archive: History
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We were young once..
We were young once.. “We poets in our youth begin with gladness; But there off in the end despondency and madness.”Wordsworth“Soldiers rest! Thy warfare o’er, Dream of fighting fields no more: sleep the… Continue reading
A witness to life..
A witness to lifeA Poem by Coyote Poetry “We must remember friends and family missed. I believe. When we speak or write about them. We bring them back to our hearts and our minds.”… Continue reading
Empty spaces..
Empty spaces A Poem by Coyote Poetry A poem of question.” Empty spaces.. Once I was dancing,… Continue reading
My father war, my father lasting sins.
Father’s wars, my father lasting sins.. (My served in the Korea war and the Vietnam war. After the war, he killed three people in bars for disrespecting his Ojibwa/Mexican face. Took him 50… Continue reading
Old soldier..
Old soldier… A Story by Coyote Poetry Only Soldiers understand what another soldier had saw and felt. Strangers to war and violence cannot understand. When you are near death for too long. You appreciate… Continue reading
Angel dancing, too close to the earth..
Angels dancing, too close to the earth… Pretty wishes, deadly journeys led me to the Austin, Texas sun and you. Till I met you. I saw grey skies only and the drink was… Continue reading
Coffee shop conversation..
Coffee shop conversation A Poem by Coyote Poetry A Poem by Coyote PoetryGood coffee and a chess game is what life need to be. I miss the days of good conversation and chess games. … Continue reading
Poetry, writing and history.
Poetry, writing and history. A Poem by Coyote Poetry History and poetry. Old timer at work told me a interesting story. He asked me did I know the reason for Memorial Day and where… Continue reading
Stand for the right things..
Stand for the right things.. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Quiet, peace, solitude and loneliness. Places and traces of what we were and are. Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of… Continue reading