Ancient floors.
Ancient floors. In the mirrors of time.Old windows may never be closed. Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
The Nightingale song.
The Nightingale song. The Ojibwa grandfather volunteered to watch the five grandchildren and he took them to the big water. He told them if you listen well, you can hear the nightingale songs… Continue reading
A safe harbor. And an amazing Harry Chapin song.
A safe harbor. I saw her sitting alone on a park bench. She had a suitcase near her and she watched the sea. She was a pretty girl with sad eyes. I went… Continue reading
Like father.
Like Father… A Poem by Coyote Poetry Do we become our parent? Do we follow their footsteps. Like father. My father, like most men. He learned to hide is sadness and disappointment. He… Continue reading
Jenny wrote.
Jenny wrote. A Poem by Coyote Poetry Words can be magic, can be visions of beauty and can make us dream. Jenny wrote. Painted words are what the writer understands. Wisp and grasps… Continue reading
Show me the way to love.
Show me the way to love. (Photo of my Daniela in 1978 and my first published poem somewhere. Written in 1979.) A Poem by Coyote PoetryA poem written in 1979. Being young and hopeful… Continue reading
Pretty Peggy. The last dance.
Pretty Peggy. Once I chased you and all I wanted was a kiss, a dance. I told you often, you were the most beautiful girl in my world. We tried to find love… Continue reading
The daylight fading.
The daylight fading. Once the kindest woman in Texas weaved me a safe place to be. Dearest Jayne used to hold me tightly and she sang songs of love to me late into… Continue reading
Already broken. A Tela, an Honduras story.
Already broken. Oldest and most tire man in Michigan escaped to find something lost. He remembers an Auburn hair with a silky voice, the whiskey nights and the Soldier’s liar prayer. He gave… Continue reading
Don’t give up. And an outstanding song by Willie and Sinéad O’Connor.
Don’t give-up. I changed face, I changed cities and played the jester well. I believed the stories in the wind; I believed in the voices of the traitors who forsaken my generation. I… Continue reading