Tag Archive: John Coyote

The songs of the seasons…

The songs 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… Continue reading

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The sweetest gift

The sweetest gift (Written in October 1990) In is noon on Sunday and our bodies are wrapped together, your warm skin against my skin, my arms encircling you and I am falling into… Continue reading

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Delia

(The name Delia is of Greek origin. The meaning of Delia is “visible”. It is also of English origin, where its meaning is “of Delos“. Delia is generally used as a girl’s name.)   Delia… Continue reading

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John Donne- Death be not proud

“Death is a pause, just a place we must meet. Life is possibilities, don’t wait for things we want. Time wasted in useless things, just days wasted. Do things you enjoy, find laughter,… Continue reading

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Waiting for a miracle…

Waiting for a miracle I remember you, I remember us. You were my wild and untamed lady, and I was running to you, and I was running away from you in the same… Continue reading

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Hey brother, hey sister…

Hey brother, hey sister (Time for us to learn. Lead with concern, kindness and listen. Old world is gone. New world is here. Call a friend missed, call the family members and be… Continue reading

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Somethings shouldn’t beheld or touched…

(Thank you Mahafsoun for the photo)     Somethings shouldn’t beheld or touched       You have taunted my dreams and made me wish for  sordid and frenzy nights, captured in your… Continue reading

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A safe place, a kind face, maybe?

 A safe place, a kind face, maybe? Someone told the loneliest lady in the bar. Johnnie wanted to die alone, with Jack Daniel and Jim Beam as his only friends. She stood behind… Continue reading

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You are my lake Gichigami prayer

(mariareginapittemonteiro) You are my Lake Gichigama prayer     Once we danced in Paris, once we fell in love in Basel and once we loved the big cities and the sea. Kelli, Kelli… Continue reading

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The old soldier

(My father Jack Isaacs. Singing with the angels now) The old soldier Some of us had learn. The simple things are so damn sweet. The laughter of children, holding hands with love one’s… Continue reading

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