My father’s burdens…
My father’s burdens. A Poem by Coyote Poetry My father taught me to appreciate laughter and woman. My father’s burdens (My father was a Ojibwa/Mexican man in 1950 USA. He never allowed… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Ojibwa
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The song of the seasons…
A Story by Coyote Poetry A Native American tale. The song of fall.. Warm days, cold nights.Create an restless passion.I can hear the whisper of the windon a solitary hill. Old Mother Nature… Continue reading
Ly O Lay Ale Loya- The circle dance.
Ly O Lay Ale Loya (Circle Dance) The elder is burning the sage, cleansing the air of separation.He told the people, many races, many hearts and we are becoming one in the hope… Continue reading
Wisdom of the Medicine wheel…
Wisdom of the Medicine wheel.. I have been lucky. Many kind Native Americans took me under their wings and taught me how to find peace. At the Mall I went to the so-call Native… Continue reading
Where have the Ojibwa gone?
“Only when the last tree has died and the last river has been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money.” “Treat the earth well: it was… Continue reading
My Ojibwa Grandmother chant…
My Ojibwa Grandmother chant A Poem by Coyote Poetry I lost my Ojibwa Grandmother in 1981. I tried to be like her. Children must know freedom and not be afraid of life. My… Continue reading
Ladybug wishes…
Lady bug wishes… My dear Ojibwa grandmother told me. If a ladybug lands on you. You can make a wish. Only one. I told my grandchildren. If you see a butterfly dancing in… Continue reading
The Coyote and Raven dance…
The Coyote and Raven dance… The coyote was dancing for the half-moon, he moved and weaved into the deep forest and he knew. His beautiful friend was watching him celebrate the night. The… Continue reading
When the sun kisses the moon…
“You taste like sunshine just like you’ve been kissed by the morning light and I was the darkness dancing with the stars carelessly, breathlessly and our lips meet softly. color creeping in the… Continue reading
Lakota Lullaby and my May-day hope…
April morning… The days of May are coming Kind earth is alive and we must become the people of the sun. The fire are burning and grandfathers must become the story tellers by… Continue reading