Timothy Brumley Poet Narrative

The Ghost Dance

A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.

That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.

Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.

A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.

A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.


                                     Timothy I. Brumley

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Diane Locksley April 8, 2011 at 7:59 PM This is a terrific poem, Timothy. I enjoyed learning more about the battle at Wounded Knee. Best to you, Diane

James Foulk April 8, 2011 at 2:25 PM a beautiful write i remember reading about the ghost dance, i got the movie about wounded knee, and it was awlful, the Native American Indians got a real bad deal, and nothing is big done to make up for it. thank you for reading Go To Sleep and for your comment. right now my grandson brandon is sleeping the last three days he has been a little angel.

Harry Horsman April 7, 2011 at 8:35 PM I too have learnt something here today about your history (U.S) Timothy, your rendering of this period in time, is exceptional, thank you, Harry

Kabuteng P.Ink K. April 7, 2011 at 6:09 PM I am not familiar with this at all but this sure is interesting-- very vivid piece and I learned something new as well today-- thank you for dropping by my poem :) that's so cool that you've been to the Philippines :) would be a joy to share those native delicacies with you :) Maraming salamat sa pagmamahal ;) hugs

Carolyn Devonshire April 7, 2011 at 10:46 AM Ah, the battle of Wounded Knee! Thanks for the heads up, Tim. Extraordinary poem in many ways. Writes about history and Native Americans always interest me. You did a great job here! Goes to my faves now. Love, Carolyn

Sara Kendrick April 7, 2011 at 9:41 AM Enjoyed reading your historical write today..Some happening in the past are not good but we can't change the past we can only learn from it..I hope that we as the human race begin to learn.Your kind review of my work is greatly appreciated...Sara

Linda-Marie Sweetheart April 6, 2011 at 1:00 AM A stunning and stirring write Timothy.. a rousing tale of tragedy and loss .. very descriptive images and visuals luv.. good luck if for the contest ...

Timothy Brumley April 5, 2011 at 5:02 PM It wasn't a battle Carolyn, it was a massacre. The great Sioux massacre at Wounded Knee of the Dakota Creek and Sioux Indian reservation.

Carolyn Devonshire April 5, 2011 at 4:44 PM Captivating poem, Tim. I'm not sure which battle you're referring to, but many Native American tribes were wiped out by the bloody bluecoats. A tragic time in American history. How interesting that the shaman died in a trance while evoking the Spirit Great to bring their souls to heaven. Very compelling write and brilliantly penned! Love, Carolyn