Daniel Larson Poet Rhyme

Last Few of the Clan

I’ve looked at all the faces
     gathered in this milling crowd,
They’re staring at the music
     that is growing ever loud.
There’s only one amongst them
     whose head is slightly bowed,
He stands near the brown-haired girl
     wearing an old faded shroud.

A young boy reaches outward,
     he’s been left to wonder why
Those pure white doves of freedom
     can no longer reach the sky.
Listens to the minstrel’s words
     as they slowly drift on by,
And watches a young mother
     try to quell her newborn’s cry.

Footprints of the forefathers
     are long gone from golden sand,
Washed away by rolling tides
     that erode this sacred land.
The last of eagle feathers
     have dropped from an ageing hand,
Though many wise men gathered
     there’s so few that understand.

The spirits that still travel
     know nothing of distant time,
The snow-capped mountains of youth
     lie in mem’ries far behind.
They’re dancing to the drumbeats
     and the rhythms of the mime,
Reborn through the images 
     of warriors in their prime.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment