Best Apache Poems
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
©1996 RICO LEFFANTA
Apache Ga-an are like the disciples of Christ, they were most highly respected
Missionaries condemned the Ga-an as “Devil Dancers,” and called them inferior
“New World” new beliefs, but even the woman and children were unprotected
Apaches totally rejected a religion where humans only are considered superior
Evil men, who taught they were above everything else, “The Chosen Ones”
Apache language was unaccepted, so punished when it was proudly spoken
Franciscan’s, Jesuits, Spaniards, Comanches, confinement, disease, and guns
Killed, called them savages, or their spirits and bodies were gradually broken
The dance ceremony is performed to drum and song, and mostly at night
Four dancers representing different cardinal directions north, south, east, west
The messenger, “clown” with a dual nature is the only one who wears white
Dancers represent mountain spirits, their masks prepared by a shaman guest
A bull roarer or whistle starts the ceremony to create an ethereal sound
The ceremony is performed at na’ih’es, girl’s adulthood initiation ritual
Flashing adding to the dazzling effect are the mirrors on the crowned
Apache, indigenous peoples, associate with spirituality and are habitual
Powerful mountain spirits and a comical teacher who heals through laughter
You may see the Ga-an rise from the flames, when you hear the messenger
The dancer’s bodies painted with symbols and patterns, stars, of here after
Today, more enlightened Americans call the Ga-an, “Crown Dancers” ~
They were here before the settlers arrived
They lived off the land, they knew how to survive
But after the great white spirit came
They lost both their land and their fame
There were many native American tribes
Dakota, Apache, Cherokee, to name a few
But from the Apache tribe a legend grew
To his people he was a hero
The legendary warrior known as Geronimo
In battle he was known to kill
With both the gun or the knife
Many an enemy lost their lives
To the heroic Apache's skill
In 1909 Geronimo died
And he was buried in Fort Sill
On Apachean winds his spirit still rides
And his name is used in battle still
Halito
Follow the rythms of nature
Rise and retire with the sun
Enjoy life's journey
But leave no tracks
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
Deep in the woods I can hear a twig snap
A bird goes into flight that was sitting on a limb beside me
And it just so happens that right now we are at war with another tribe
But I must remember the cries of the mothers and children
Yes I heard them, with a determined look as I left the village this morning
It is in mourning for the lost of our Cheif who died in starvation
He would not eat because our village is hungry
He had the greatest Heart
For he gave his food to the children
But I cant resist it
I put my warpaint on
I dip my finger in it
And run it under my eye
I no longer sit and listen
For an Apache Warrior is now on the War path
After I kill my enemy
I will take his horse and feed the hungry
I send out my thanks to The Great Spirit for this day
I'm so happy because a horse will feed more than a deer
Great Spirit i love you my Cheif is honored
So I set aside my bow, and instantly in my hand is my Tomahawk
I love to stalk 'em before I chop 'em up
He was rsised in New Mexico
and became feared more than Geronimo
The army enlisted him as a brave
to track down other braves.
Accused of many crimes
he escaped many times.
He led many raids
with his four braves.
He didn't trust his tribe
so he stayed on the outside.
People say he died
in a fight with soldiers
others say he died in his cave.
Even ranchers claim
to have killed the brave
down in New Mexico way
after a raid.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Story: Apache Junction
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: April/2014
Gonna take the 405 train
to Apache Junction.
Bought me a one-way ticket,
and I ain't look'n back.
When I get there, I'm gonna hike the
Apache trail; forget about my past,
and look forward to the future -
It's my dream to climb Superstition Mountain,
and lookout across the wilderness,
to free my mind of all negative thoughts,
about the town that I left behind -
This is my fresh start! In the land where
they still panhandle for gold.
I hear that the sun, is at its most beautiful
setting, over the Goldfield mountains.
It feels right, I have a gleam in my eyes again,
and through the blessings of the Great Spirit,
I'll have a few gold coins in my pockets too.
I'll visit the Lost Dutchman Gold Mine,
and prospect for a few nickels and dimes.
I'll gallop back to my place on a horse,
kickback in the cool shade, from my
clay colored, adobe style home,
and look out at a field of cactus trees,
take a sip of some citrus infused water,
and call it a day.
Yep! no worry's, no problems,
just the sky, and the Arizona air -
Well, gotta go, here come the westbound 405
to Apache Junction.
she's my apache...shootin arrows of anger straight through my heart of hate
she's my apache...she devistates like hurricanes,twisters and earthquakes
she's my apache...she scalped my spirit and seared my soul
she's my apache...she turns a pile of pure garbage into living mounds of gold
she's cold as ice and hot as fire
she owns my love my lust my disgust my desire
we make love on a bed of roses set to fire by desert heat
she puts the flames out with her sweat and tears bad beasts up with her teeth
she's not discreet but they just don't make her breed any better
she's my apache...wildflower wrapped in barbwire
I want to take a scalpel
And surgically remove countenance
I want to fire a chainsaw
And massacre fast food consciousness
Sever and slash rinky dink rememberance
If you want to honor the dead
Let's go dance on gravestones
Not forgetting the bodies lost in Vietnam jungles
I want to take a hatchet
And slice clean modern education
Remove all doubt
That this is not what knowledge is about
More to the point
Let's cut the electricity
Rewire the main hardware
Start over and begin from the beginning
Before Genesis colonized the mind
When pure babies lay in savannahs
And a bastion laid before our hands
Suddenly became awake
An Apache pilot once sought for a treasure
In booze, in fun
Sampling leisure and pleasure
Until an Apache chopper gun
In his attentive ears whispered
Enjoining him to a wound-prone warfront to go
Where the gun the pilot pampered
Soon sadness and recklessness the pilot did forgo
Strafing an egregious enemy
Determined to inflict huge casualties
Until the enemy’s alchemy of blasphemy
Enjoined the pilot to exploit the enemy’s foibles and frailties
Inflicting huge losses on the enemy who by roadsides planted improvised explosives
To kill or maim the pilot’s troopers
When the pilot engaging sibilants and plosives
Alongside paratroopers
Read a crystal ball
Hoping to glean a roadmap
To his life’s call
And Wrap
Up the direction to his future
Engaging first this dame then that dame
In a complex culture
When the crystal ball requested the pilot to stake a claim
On the heart of a feminist damsel
Who the crystal warned was a tough nut to crack
Neither for hire nor for sale
In circumstances within a pesky pack
Teeming with churlish challenges
Which the pilot tackled
Unwrapping and unpacking lozenges
To his Apache chopper buckled
Somewhere in the United States of America
Where the pilot’s eyes and red hair
Flew in search of Erica
With whom he played fair
All of a sudden a way crystal clear
Appeared with a miracle string
Which the brave pilot seized and bending on his knees said, ‘Erica, dear
Allow me on young finger to insert a wedding ring.’
APACHE
His name was Apache
His eyes were so bright
He was completely full of joy
Hopping, jumping, dancing
Taking naps on top of me
Happiness, love, to fill the universe
Playing with home-made toys
Always excited to see each one
He warbled like a bird when he was held
He filled my heart so quickly
Like he knew me, before we met
He was a smart Guinea Pig
Squeaking from across the house,
When he knew I was cutting his food
He had a special ramp that I made
He would wait for his treats put on that
He always knew everything I would do
He was only 7 months old when he got sick
An ear infection spread, ending up untreatable
The light bulb of joy went out in my house
An emptiness that I cannot explain
There are other things that I cannot say,
But I wish that I had one more day
My writing area was near his play pen
When he left, my muse went with him
It will be a while to feel it again
It will be a while for my heart to mend
There is no answer for his leaving so young
There are always questions in life,
Left unanswered in some empty place that makes no sense
And we are expected to move on without knowing
Heidi Sands
9/26/22
An Apache hid out in Dragoon
Was revealed by the sight of his moon
In Judge Roy Bean's twang
Came, "By God, you'll hang!
You caused Lily Langtry to swoon!"
The Cobra sleeps
As the Apache AH-64D awakens
This attack helicopter
Delivers the forsaken
With it's tandem cockpit
Reverse-tricycle landing gear
At the forefront of theatre
It's enemy will fear
Hellfire's and Hydra's
M230 Chain Gun
As the lead rains down
Cutting down the unwanted ones
Into service they were delivered
In March 97'
This breed has arisen
They now start delivering
This creation called Longbow
With it's cannon of fire
Arrows from the hip
If it's for freedom, then we require
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-7.php
AntiPoem 19
“Apache”
(Poet’s Instruction: Softly play “Apache” by Jorgen Ingmann, 1961, while reading)
Olathe and Yamka
Cochise and
Mescalero
Varlebena - forever
Ya’ateh – Hello to
These streaming flower gardens
These feathered priests of Gaan
Their white flags of truce burning
Geronimo
You can fly now
Fly as an osprey conquering
Retaking the cottonwoods of Tubac
Feasting on rabbit and mourning dove
Drop seed grass and agave blossom
Hating the white lies the soft knives
Mangas
You are the blood warrior in the stars
Brave as the wind pinned to the sky
T`Inde, Inde, N`dee, N`ne
Your children still sing the old songs
Voicing the call of the spirit dancers
The crown dancers of Pinos Altos
Lipan and Salinero
Gaan is pointing now
East west north and south
To Cookes Canyon and
The Florida Mountains
Your sleeping villages
Dream again the heartbreak
Of Dragoon Springs
Humility’s white flag hoisted
With Mangas’ head
Boiled for the white owls
Dangling with lizard tongues
The atrocities of Adobe Wells
Visiting upon the noble innocents
We can hear them again the
Apache choirs of the dead
Screaming into the savage night
The high mountain spirits forever
Bringing dreams of sky-blue light
The streaming peaceful flower gardens
T`Inde, Inde, N`dee, N`ne
I am an Apache brave, the preteen rat said.
He had always wanted to be one, this critter, Ed.
Why not a Wyandotte, an Osceola or a Sioux?
This confused the rat, who did not know what to do.
I guess any Indian culture in the USA will be okay.
For I am tired of being a preteen, Ed said right away.
You will still be a preteen, said his wise grandmother.
Don’t worry about it then, just get rid of my brother.