Trying to lose your memory.
Trying to lose your memory. I tried to find peace and calm in the coffee houses of Monterey, drinking strong coffee and reading dead-end poetry at the nightly poetry readings. I thought I… Continue reading
Tag Archive: love
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
Her Gypsy heart.
Her Gypsy heart. 1- Her eyes, clear blue like the sea, her voice, gentle and sweet. She told me, open the locked doors, wide. We decide if our life and journey is, a… Continue reading
The sea.
The perfect sea. The golden dust was upon us and the warm day made the sea sweeter and more wonderful. You released your sundress and swirl in a free-fall dance near the sea,… 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
Morning glory.
Morning glory A Poem by Coyote Poetry Good to open your eyes and see the glory of the new day and beauty nearby. Morning glory. The smell of fresh coffee and pancakes cooking… Continue reading
Needing and bleeding.
Needing and bleeding A Poem by Coyote Poetry Love teaches us many things. Mainly hold on tight and be kind. Needing and bleeding. I have lived and died in your arms. You were… Continue reading
Brick, upon another brick.
Brick, upon another brick. Men, believe in his youth. Life is his to take. Young men believe life is now, just borrow and steal everything you can. Tomorrow may not come. He learns… Continue reading
The lilac wine.
The lilac wine. 1- She told me, maybe, maybe not. Let’s allow the lilac wine, to write the story for us. 2- Life is many colors, we can paint her black, we can… Continue reading
Love is a hammer. And an outstanding song.
Love is like a hammer. I left Michigan in 1991, and I sat in the jazz club at 12 pm, trying to write a poem. The Jazz man was playing the songs, so… Continue reading