The songs of the seasons.
The songs of the seasons. Warm days, cold nights.Create a restless passion.I can hear the whisper of the windon a solitary hill. Old Mother Nature is calling for aid.The water is sick with… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Jesus
The war, the blood and the gun.
The war, the blood and the gun. No-one is screaming for the child of war. They have known only blood and the sound of war. Who do we blame my friend? War is… Continue reading
Pathfinders.
Pathfinder A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe look in many places for what we need and want. Most times what we need is in front of our face. Pathfinder… There are many ways to live… Continue reading
You and me?
You and me? A long time ago. We had the same hope and dreams. We found each other again, drowning in old regret and good whiskey in the dark Texas taverns. You told… Continue reading
Payment due my friend.
Payment due my friend. I sat daily by the Lake St. Clair lake. I watched the boats go by and I wrote and read. I drank coffee and I fell into Jack London,… Continue reading
Passing through.
Passing through. A poet and writer exchanging words and thoughts. The Coffee house poet told the writer. We can never win. Jack London once wrote. “The gods always win. Men believe they can… Continue reading
Sins of our father.
(My father in 1996. He died two months later.) Sins of our father’s. A Poem by Coyote PoetryWe can learn kindness from living and seeing hate and violence. Father’s eyes and anger…. Is my… Continue reading
Heal, not kill. For Palestine. Murder is murder.
(No place is safe. But cannot know fear. We must show the world. Freedom lived and good people will not falter. Pray for the people and the family of the city of Paris.… Continue reading
Happy New Year. The weeping song.
The weeping song. I wrote years ago. “When our soldiers are fighting in faraway wars. War will find us. War will come to our doorstep.” “Older men declare war. But it is youth… Continue reading
I wanted a true love once.
I don’t need you. At the Purgatory Inn. Old men wisdom means little.Dead men wisdom is buried and gone forever. I’m sitting with old writers and fellow non-believers in the lullabies of the… Continue reading