Best Navajo Poems
Argent moons myriad known, beneath an endless zenith sky
When hotter suns unaltered and stars ruled as aperture fever of a night
Around a fire this Naabeeho song begun, sung louder than a heaven's choir
As “Soaring Feather” was tuft mothered, from Navajo out of Chief Eagle Gray's desire
But, now less wild panes opaque of Dine', behind leather eyes am I
Brittle bone to withered dust, a desert sage that dries
And I plead one last dream before doors beyond forever
Gazing east, out cross, fallen white of Navajo still November
I am blinded into vision winds, so quickened unto rapture
Swept along the swaying prairie grass, messenger of earth then after
The billowing, ghosts of buffalo left innocence roaming over head
And I rise in the morning mist, wings tall on Appaloosa's empathic wrath
Regrets ascending gallop to step upon plateau in reach of raven's tail plumose
Reborn as Yei to hunt the sky, shed the herds of swifting nimbus
A changeling caught within a current writhe, transcending into tempest, high
Quelling ages and ages of limitations, let the lightning bolts of redress fly
A warrior of the Holy Ones, my tabernacle on mother earth drifting dies
But, on painted horse run rising up, a brazen spirit storm comes alive
Free amidst the gale, thunderous beats in temporal instrumental
As clouds begin to blacken, past native spirits dance ceremonial into tornado
Hozoji drums beating round and round, whirlwind roar of nightly chants
I, Navajo dreamer stampeding across the azure plains of my once pure native land
Recompense only to scourge prejudice away and humble the most of evil men
And then stillness, a silent healing song, as forgiveness is a welcome friend
Copyright 2012 Micharl G. Smith
Categories:
navajo, native american, earth, prejudice,
Form:
Lyric
Spirit of the Navajo
How hard life has become
Reciting prayers of long ago
Alcohol an escape for some
How hard life has become
Water is a scarcity
Alcohol an escape for some
Look at them with pity
Water is a scarcity
Wells will soon run dry
Look at them with pity
How could one not cry
Wells will soon run dry
Land stolen, left alone
How could one not cry
True intentions shone
Land stolen, left alone
Reciting prayers of long ago
True intentions shone
Spirit of the Navajo
Pantoum
The pantoum consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB in which the second and fourth
lines
of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain
introduces a
new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD. The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the
closing
quatrain, and third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming
ZAZA.
The design is simple:
Line 1
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4
Line 5 (repeat of line 2)
Line 6
Line 7 (repeat of line 4)
Line 8
Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanzathen repeats the second
and
fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line
of
the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the
first
line of the poem is also the last.
Last stanza:
Line 2 of previous stanza
Line 3 of first stanza
Line 4 of previous stanza
Line 1 of first stanza
Categories:
navajo, native americanlife,
Form:
Pantoum
A red Navajo blanket
Shines in the setting sun—
Marking a cowboy’s final rest
When that long ride is done.
There will be no wood marker
Or stone to note his place—
We’ll just remember laughter
And long recall his face.
“Please boys,” he asked us softly,
“Do one last thing for me
And put that Navajo rug
High where the world will see.
“An old dying Indian
Passed that blanket to me—
After I tried to save him
From sure death meant to be.
“Oh, it won’t last forever—
Like leaves it will soon fall—
But like a man’s life well-lived,
Beauty’s what we recall.”
So high upon that green hill
We placed blanket and grave,
Then said what words that we knew
In hopes a soul we’d save.
A red Navajo blanket
Shines in the setting sun—
Marking a cowboy’s final rest
When that long ride is done.
Categories:
navajo, cowboy-western, death, faith, introspection,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Navajo Spirit
The Amazon is amazing, so why are you still destroying,
Its beauty and your integrity? You are a monster devouring.
This natural beauty is in our way;
So we must destroy to build again.
We must cause Mother Nature incredible pain;
For she has given us all these trees and this bloody rain.
A forest stump wouldn’t complain about anything.
Oh no! A Navajo!
We must kick them out of their homes!
We come in peace,
Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!
We come in peace,
Shoot to kill!
Er; Captain. Yes what is it?
This thievery is taking longer than expected.
What!? Do you think I am an idiot?
No Sir; it’s just, we haven’t got enough biscuits.
What about Jaffa Cakes? No Sir, we’re all out.
Well what about meat? It’s all dead and cannot be eaten.
What do you mean? It’s obviously dead. (Clout!)
Ow! Sorry Sir, I mean it has gone rotten.
Well find some more natives and buy some more meat.
We can’t Sir; they have disappeared, since the last broken treaty.
They haven’t been seen and new supplies we just cannot get.
Doh! Why did we have to be such bloody stupid English Men?
Now we shall all starve because we couldn’t share the land;
The winter is coming and we have no friends.
Oh hello…I am Amity. I am a Navajo.
You look rather ill…where is your home?
England, I think; please help me I’m starving.
Oh of course, wait a second and I’ll get cooking.
Here take this, it will make you healthy.
Cough! Sorry. I never meant to scare you.
Oh you didn’t, don’t be silly.
I just saw you lying here in need;
So I thought I would come and see,
If there was anything I could do.
You’re too kind, after the way my people have treated you.
Oh don’t be silly, you gave us money,
To help us arm ourselves against you.
Such irony really, when we could just have been friends.
Here smoke this peace pipe, it is completely free…
I’m seeing visions…
I see us as neighbours, living beside each other in peace;
I see a time of change in the wind beneath our dreams.
Let us live in peace and never forget history;
For the Navajo Spirit has always been at home
In the Land of the Free.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Categories:
navajo, america, history, integrity, nature,
Form:
your eyes, black diamonds as dark and potent as your soul
your skin, the color of your sandstone mesas
your hair, a sacred silky, shiny, black mane
stranded with blue lapis, white shell, and red corral
Navajo princess with your big burning heart
full of Native sorrow
generation after generation
of poverty, degradation and shame,
opportunity stolen before your ancestors were born
your reservation a waste of stray dogs, alcoholism and dirty water
you
are the most beautiful woman I know
beauty far deeper than your warm terracotta skin
I fall into the abysmal depth of your eyes
into such strong medicine
that in conquering you, I am conquered like Custer's last stand
and lowered a realm or two
...a holy healing realm
or two
where I see
all that lies before and after
you
you are your beautiful people, you are your wasted land and all its shame
you are
your eyes
when I gaze into the glittering dark realm above
your eyes are all I see
"the brain is wider than the sky" said Emily *
but the windows of your soul
contain the whole multitude of universes
inhabited by every bit of joy and sorrow
dark-souled
Navajo
princess
you are more, more than all of them
so much more than this world
the drums are drumming a sacred beat
and Dancing Bear moves the spirit world
the bells your feet ring
and the feathers your limbs flutter
tell the greatest of the great spirits
about this hell on earth
make the sky listen, make the wind obey
make the way even
there is no time (and never was)
for anyone to escape these words
It falls and rises again
again and again and again
dark-souled
Navajo
princess
knows
Categories:
navajo, angst, beauty, native american,
Form:
Free verse
I ride the mesas
Wherever I go
Are Hopi, Zuni,
And tall Navajo
So many people
On dry, barren land
All Trump says is,
"They sure have got sand!"
Categories:
navajo, betrayal, corruption, discrimination, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Perched within the fair La Plata
just beneath the great San Juans
basking in the starlit rapture
as the dusk approaches dawn
Lies the point of inspiration
where lost souls have found their way
each unto the revelation
offered there in Rafter J.
Abandoned by the Anasazi
tamed by Ute and Navajo
across the river Animas
between the rock and blinding snow
Lies a spiritual awakening,
visions of the ancient ways,
a timeless wisdom rising, breaking
through the beams in Rafter J.
A refuge in the course uncharted
a tower of hope where love redeems
to bring us back to where we started
in our youth and with our dreams
To find our peace there in the mountains,
find the God to whom we pray,
to find new life there in the fountains
springing forth from Rafter J.
Categories:
navajo, america, appreciation, inspiration, mountains,
Form:
Rhyme
Navajo celebration
death is life
wakan tanka in the sky
where earth people become holy people
the soul is now free from suffering
Categories:
navajo, heaven, native american,
Form:
Free verse
I believe I may be Navajo my mind is telling me so
I can't help it but when I dance the rain makes all things grow
The universe is in my heart the nation's will return
Respect for mother lay in her womb
The fire walkers will one day burn
A land returned piece by piece by lost souls who ravage all
There way of economic waste a capitalist disease
Bringing others to their knees
days are drawing near
Smell their souls fear
I believe I may be Navajo my mind it says so
Medicine plants leading the way
Nature again will grow
I hear the vibration all around spreading far and wide
Fire people have had their day
It's time to step aside.
Categories:
navajo, native american,
Form:
Rhyme
He was already an old man the first time, at us, he waved
and that memory is one his sister and I…in our hearts have forever saved.
We learned his name was Joseph…and as a general rule
the three of us would sit together on his porch…on our way home from school.
I’m not sure what makes us remember…what causes a memory to last
It could have been the cookies and milk his wife had ready every day…
coupled with his stories from his past.
We would listen to his stories…some told with sorrow…some with jubilation….
tales of his growing up…a young boy…on the reservation.
He told us how the Navajo do not name their new born children
Instead…the parents watch them carefully…
waiting for them to reveal…what their name should be.
He said his mother would take him to the frozen water…it was there his mother claims…that he first smiled at his own reflection…and where Tahoma became his name.
With sadness he told them why he had to change his name…
how out of their land the Navajo were cheated
He told them so many other ways…his people were mistreated
He taught them through all his struggles, however,
how one can still remain joyful, generous and kind…
He said he learned to take the love along with him…
and leave the hate behind…
He taught them to take their generosity and kindness
and treat everyone the same…
lessons on his front porch…they will never forget…
Taught by an old friend…Tahoma was his name.
Categories:
navajo, native american,
Form:
Rhyme
Can you hear them? The tribal chants
Chanted only when a member advance
Can you feel it reverberating in your bones?
Can you hear the distant tribal people's tones?
With binoculars - watch the tribal daughters dance
There's the chief with a headdress and mask
There's the tribal elder - concocting a potion
There's the diplomatic princess - with all of her devotion
There goes the knights and warriors - ready for the hunt
You can hear the distant fanfare - the trumpets trump
Stop and listen to the maracas bells
Gather 'round the campfire - listening to the stories they tell
Speaking Navajo to the chief - you will soon find
He's marrying off his daughter - 'cause now it's her time
Categories:
navajo, society,
Form:
Rhyme