James Fraser Poet Rhyme

White Mans Gifts

From their first step
On my tribal lands
The sickness starts
From their poisoned glands
 
My land they take
They call it home
Our prairie soul
Where my buffalo roam
 
Degraded with uproot
Barren land to land
Their grass is green
While ours is sand
 
Strong tribes diminish
Illness rife
Cholera
White mans strife
 
Their eventual
Was to wipe us out
Brave nations
No longer shout
 
Many battles and conflicts
Arrows against guns
Their ultimate
Have us on the run
 
As i look back 
At these history rifts
Where would we be
Without those
White Mans Gifts


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php

♡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

Michael Jordan May 19, 2009 at 8:41 PM James a beautifully written poem of very profound truth I recently wrote one called "The Breed" I'll post it tomorrow for you, God Bless you Bro, a Fav, mj

Carolyn Devonshire May 19, 2009 at 2:56 PM Surely the Native Americans would be living a more primitive but vastly more peaceful and spiritual life today, James. Today I hiked through a site where Native Americans once lived and we were talking about how disease had wiped out that local tribe after the Europeans landed. Guess you and I were thinking along the same lines again today. Excellent poem, James! Love, Carolyn

Raul Moreno May 19, 2009 at 2:05 PM "Arrows against guns" nice line and great work James...Raul

Brandy Megens May 19, 2009 at 1:37 PM honest but very true

Nathan Leccese May 19, 2009 at 1:16 PM This is sad but uplifting! Very well done! Nate