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The Unsung Coup

A warrior by nature as summer grew in sultry heat, I sweated with desire to count coup on the first foe I beat, Swear by my breech clout I would grapple in hand to hand assault, Toss and turn this Ute in mortal combat before I halt; Or steal his associate to my ultra joy and his dread, Add another feather to my cap seeking it shows red, Along the Tipi fire I see a shadow stir the soup, Keenly attempt to pull off a red color feather coup; Enter slyly to put my first feather to the systole, In the confounded move I flounder to breath down her taught mole, Duel precipitates in raw battle weary raptures, Surrenders to roll within my bison hide captures; Victorious I swell with sensuous pride and forget to scout, No witness on sight says the chieftain with power he flouts, Cheats as he sequesters her away from me in his clout I am left with out my prize and the red feather he touts.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 4/7/2010 3:32:00 AM
You really capture the Native American spirit well in this poem, Jai. The story of the warrior and the chieftain had me mesmerized. Excellent! Best wishes, Carolyn
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