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New Buffalo Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Buffalo poems are below this new poems list.

Wrestling A Buffalo by Ellison, Jack
Buffalo by Scheidel, Philip
THE PUZZLE OF THE BUFFALO by Robles, Ernest
Buffalo Soldier by Vitale, Mario
Trees, Buffalo and Lily Roots by Alixopulos, ahellas
Buffalo by abdul , wahab
BUFFALO HUNTERS by Walker, Sonia
Buffalo Snow 11-20-14 by Babbit, DM
Gone: The White Buffalo HaikuX3 by Smith, Arlene
THE BUFFALO by Arribas, John

View all new Buffalo Poems

The Best Buffalo Poems

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Indian Ink

Listen to poem:

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky;    -Rising hymns release 
-ancient demons that   CLING to the soul

Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth---
Moccasin makers rise from underneath;    While
  guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world; 
Arrowheads,   Ivory gems,   feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss.......   My veins;
Run Cold, like ice through a desert night.

Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize,  my ties,  my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS! 
- takes place among the sanity of  who   I am
The spear of the perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
*
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Portrait of Nature

Each element of who she is, is scattered on the grass, 
with the scent of earth, the drop of rain, 
where dew reflects a sky of blue.
Her senses are illuminated to harmonize within,
with a howling wolf, a roaring bear, the song of evening wind

She walks within a dreamlike world,  which cannot be defined.
This puzzle we have come to know has no border, nor an end.
When life begins, a tiny seed, is strewn, tossed from the vine,
and picks up speed on feathered wing and touches the divine.

She is daughter of the autumn, and mother of the spring.
Her euphonious legend, an extraordinary thing.
It passes through the blossomed branch of all the sprouted trees.
She is young at heart, and old with drought,
she is strong, and bold, without a doubt, is stalwart through the night.
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of those who mar,
her spirit is unbroken, by the scars of bitter blight.

She honors creatures with respect, where unison is found,
with all things wild,  whether large or small, ...for every life is gold.
Her songs are as a journey, and frolic in the breeze.
There is prowess and a valor in her lavished synchronies.
Her flute will share her story, in the sound of lonely larks,
of loss, rebirth, of drifting sands, and sweet hours after dark

For yesterday creates today, with a promise for tomorrow.
When songs are played, it can bring us hope, in the laughter of the birds.
Each whisper of a clearer sky, will gently cleanse the smoke,
and buffalo will graze again, the tall green grass will wave again.
The golden sun will rise again, to warm her every word




____________________________________________________________________
10/22/14  Inspired by Contest sponsored By Debbie Guzzi
Resubmitted for Skat's Contest "Premiere Number 7"

Details | Buffalo Poem |

The Peephole that is the Moon

An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.

In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.

Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.

Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.

All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.

I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.

I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."

Details | Buffalo Poem |

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

The Big Five—Africa’s pride in the vast open wild
Buffalo, Rhinoceros, Elephant, Leopard and Lion
Their prey—scattered Impala, Kudu and Waterbuck
On hardened dust… their footprints prevail and stand

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

The proposal day--- carefully planned- a beautiful beach
Red Roses, a Picnic, Sunrise and Diamond ring
The petals—scattered on the soft damp sea tabloid
Lover’s plea….a stick his pen, “Marry me—take my hand”

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

Early one morning--- He entered the dusty temple to teach
Scribes and Pharisees brought her in—an adulterous
Large stones…scattered for all to throw and accuse
Jesus bent down… wrote with His finger on condemning land

What was His message…..?

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Ghosts of the Sun Dance-Part 1

Ghosts of the Sun Dance

1. The Path

A quest dating back through our history
Surpassing the flesh, a spiritual path
Human endurance, road to mystery
Dark trail winding through the gardens of wrath

It echoes through me, this deep ambition
Half century of miles, lifetime compressed 
Much more than a race, a sacred mission
With light of hardship I hope to be blessed

To outsiders, an act of madness pure
What motivations could compel this feat?
Past limits of human strength to endure
Pushing the body well beyond defeat

Mind and sinews outlasting the firestorm
Transcendence, to shed our skin and transform

2. Sun Dance

Transcendence, to shed our skin and transform
Once, Plains Indians embraced the Sun Dance
Sacred solstice ritual to perform
Life’s rebirth to the sound of drums and chants

Young braves fasting in their preparation
A stout pole connects the lodge to the sun
Days of reveling unite the nation
Dancers’ exhaustion, they seek to outrun

Animal spirits drawn in by the rhythm 
Forked tree with bison’s skull, hooks in their chest
Buffalo, bringer of potent vision 
Delirious dancers complete their quest

The Spirit Quest resounds through history
Beyond mundane, to sacred mystery

3.To Endure and Transcend 

Beyond mundane, to sacred mystery
Japan's “Marathon Monks” of Mount Hiei
The key to their spirit quest victory
To walk a Marathon one hundred straight days

Famed spiritual leader Sri Chinmoy
Believed hearts and spirits could be mended
Through self-transcendence, and he did enjoy
Countless long quests before his time ended

Chinmoy’s best, a fifty day epic quest
A journey thirty-one hundred miles long
Few are those who have ever passed this test
His famous Self-Transcendence Marathon

Darkest night, the gateway to a new morn,
Through painful trials, seeker’s soul reborn

4. The Spirit Is Willing

Through painful trials, seeker’s soul reborn
Deepest pain kindling the soul’s ignition 
Follow the path supplicants’ feet have worn
Transformation’s crux, soul transition

Our defenses and walls cannot let in
Sacred blessings of the gods and spirits
Impenetrable, much to your chagrin
They cannot touch your heart if you fear it

Mortification, a tribulation
Humble display of the supplicant’s worth
A spiritual emancipation,
Pain always accompanies any birth

These transitions in few modern nations
Our world, rare rites of initiation

5. The Fall

Our world, rare rites of initiation
Deconstructed, traditions have been burned
Soulless life breeds infantilization
Perpetuating the puer eterne

To make our lives easier is progress, 
Yet soft life an inadequate mantle
We can also suffer when life lacks stress
True transformation is never gentle

Safety, the goal of civilization
Eliminate risk, its increasing role
Safety’s bitter fruit is stagnation
Comfort cannot forge a resilient soul

Building true human vitality starts
With substance to satisfy questing hearts

6. Aimlessness

With substance to satisfy questing hearts
We dream to build greatness from the humble
Miseducation, meaninglessness start
Intrepid young souls questing for trouble

Drawn to drugs and gangs, tobacco and booze
No deep satisfaction do they contain
Oft mistaken for paying adult dues
But lead instead to spiritual chains

Youthful misadventures, trouble and blues
Sterile environment will generate
Tribal belonging they mark with tattoos
Clumsy efforts to self-initiate

Conquered world without initiations
Life’s road of genuine tribulations

7. Warrior’s Quest

Life’s road of genuine tribulations
Awaits our youth, whether they are prepared
Or not, we note with building frustrations
Future leaders, we see grow up impaired

The warrior within’s heartfelt yearning
A righteous cause in which to do battle
Meanwhile, the subway turnstiles are turning
Young champions doing time as cattle

Quests can be found for the searching young soul
Alas, the focus of education
Not on the development of the whole
But fashioning subjects of this nation

The challenge of living with one’s whole heart
Yielding to those who have mastered the art

5/19/16
Copyright by Author
For contest: Heroic Crown of Sonnets
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Syllables confirmed by howmanysyllables.com

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Sugar and Spice

.
Spicy experiment! 


Victoria secret bra
Love, toy with hidden pleasure 
sweet surrender to my taste 
grenade ecstasy. 

----------------------------------

Spicy taboo!

Sticky forbidden kisses
buffalo breath down my neck 
leak like a water faucet
time to get a fix.

~•~

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Song Of A Cherokee Princess -

Cherokee chamber,
where a pow wow stampeedes preconceptions of inheritence,
from Her beaded neck charms of chance & chains of change
glisten from opulent offerings of roots, corn & lavender ablaze
on an alter of unworked stone mantled with skins strong beasts knew,

She is a " Stomp Dance " Queen with an owl as a friend and a spider as assassin,
with rattlesnake ribbons around Her wrists and prayers in Her braids thick with traditions,
the walls of Her teepee painted with the pigments of buffalo blood & sunflower pollen,
portraying a history hewn from customs known to Spirits and men alike,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen speaks for Her People and sings from the stars,

I found this Tribe, not in Appalacia nor on a prarrie stage but in the smoke of ceremony,
the Cherokee Princess has rattlesnake teeth tied to Her thigh & turtle shells upon Her hips,
She played the rabbit on the scene, then the wolf, if you know what I mean,
celebrated by the warriors as a tomahawk maker,
praised by the medicine men for Her Visions,
and feared by the Elders because of wrath that may follow Her steps,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen is a Princess, She is a Cherokee with a song Her own -

J.A.B.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Plastic Paradise

Time’s ticking for whooping cranes
wild buffalo and prairie dogs.
For their losses outweigh their gains,
displaced by cattle sheep and hogs.

The elephant and the blue whale
may share the fate of the dodo.
For their lives are now endangered
like the dragons of Komodo.

Alligator and crocodile
tread the fringes of extinction.
And the California condor’s 
future hangs on its distinction.

Baby seals are slaughtered for fur
and otters for the fish they eat.
Lions and tigers entertain us
and are routinely starved and beat.

In sanitized utopias
we plant the occasional tree.
Yet in our plastic paradise
there's few animals left to see.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Obsessive Orange

I will always hate the colour of orange. Consider:
Last meeting was on promoting sales of necklaces,
The folder given was orange.

Going home was a one lane affair,
An orange sign stated “Works Ahead”.
Orange traffic cones lined the lane on each side.

Arriving home I found my wife had installed orange curtains.
By which time I began to have some shivers.

Dinner began: orange pumpkin soup with orange buffalo wings.
“Come dear have some orange juice laced with orange vitamin pills.”

Opening TV and orange Garfield appeared.
Even the Cheetos and Utz Cheese Balls were orange.
Turning to a book what do I get?  
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess.

That’s when I began to really hate the colour
For even the goldfish had the same colour.
“Is it possible in this world it’s all orange?”
My wife thought about that and said:
“Oh no my dear, there’s salmon, carrot, coral, titian….”
Disgusted I left the house towards a verdant park.

5 March 2016


United colours: ORANGE
A Silent One Contest.
Placed 3

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Jammin - spreading positive vibrations - Bob Marley tribute

Sun is shining as I sing my redemption song.
Hey lady, no woman no cry, lets spread one love.
Jammin', spreading positive vibrations so strong,
like three little birds easy skanking with a dove.

Hey lady, no woman no cry, lets spread one love,
turn your lights down low and dance like a soul rebel,
like three little birds easy skanking with a dove.
Don't be waiting in vain, let all your fears repel.

Turn your lights down low and dance like a soul rebel,
get up, stand up, stir it up, satisfy my soul.
Don't be waiting in vain, let all your fears repel,
exodus of emotions will make you feel whole.

Get up, stand up, stir it up, satisfy my soul,
shout I shot the sheriff, but not his deputy.
Exodus of emotions will make you feel whole,
feel like a buffalo soldier finally free.

Shout I shot the sheriff, but not his deputy.
Iron like a zion mind will help your hopes soar,
feel like a buffalo soldier finally free,
escaping from a concrete jungle full of war.

Iron like a zion mind will help your hopes soar,
feeling you finally could be loved as doubts cease.
Escaping from a concrete jungle full of war,
mind no longer questions is this love when in peace.

Feeling you finally could be loved as doubts cease,
Jammin', spreading positive vibrations so strong,
mind no longer questions is this love when in peace.
Sun is shining as I sing my redemption song.

Silent One
2 April 2018

Challenged by Maria Williams
A pantoum using 22 song titles by Bob Marley, listed below.
Each line is 12 syllables.

No woman no cry
Three little birds
Sun is shining
One love
Could you be loved
Buffalo soldier
War
Iron like zion
Get up, stand up
Waiting in vain
Concrete jungle
Stir it up
I shot the sheriff
Is this love
Redemption song
Satisfy my soul
Exodus
Jammin'
Turn your lights down low
Positive vibrations
Easy skanking
Soul rebel

Buffalo Soldier
The title and lyrics refer to the black U.S. cavalry regiments, known as "Buffalo Soldiers", that fought in the Indian Wars after 1866. Marley likened their fight to a fight for survival, and recasts it as a symbol of black resistance. The origin of the term "Buffalo Soldier" is theorised as given to black troops by Native Americans, who thought African Americans' hair felt and looked like a buffalo's pelt. The name was embraced by the troops, who were well acquainted with "the buffalo's fierce bravery and fighting spirit"

Easy Skanking
A form of dancing originating in Jamaica, now most notably done in Ska/Reggae shows

A rare form of poetry. It is composed of a series of quatrains; the second and
fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the
next. This pattern continues for any number of stanzas, except for the final
stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of
the last stanza are the second and fourth of the penultimate; the first line of
the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first
stanza is the second of the final. Ideally, the meaning of lines shifts when
they are repeated although the words remain exactly the same: this can be done
by shifting punctuation, punning, or simply recontextualizing.

It does not have to rhyme nor have a syllable restriction.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Notes on Dating a Latino: What You Don't Learn in High School Spanish Class

One. Latino boys like Buffalo Wild Wings. It isn't clear why, but it's definitely emerging as a pattern.

Two. Latino boys are persistent. When he asks to kiss you for the first time, say no. Why? Because you've known him for a matter of weeks and he is not your boyfriend yet. Don't worry... he will continue to ask every week until you say yes.

Three. Latino boys are really good kissers.

Four. Latino boys love their family. His cousins are best friends, so you probably already know several of them. If any of his cousins also like you, you might think this is problematic. Your boyfriend will tell you that it's normal, and it's just because they're jealous, and not to worry about it. You will probably worry about it anyway. Sometimes it's better to let things go.

Five. Latino boys are romantic. He will tell you how he loves you in two languages and struggle to find an apt metaphor which he can pronounce in the English language. Since his English isn't perfect, he uses his hands to compensate when he speaks, uses a tilt of his head, a shift in his voice; he says most with his eyes, when he isn't speaking at all.

Six. Notice how he lights up when he smiles at you, like the sunrise... remember that the word for smile in Spanish is sonrisa.

Seven. When he offers to teach you the meringue, say yes. When you trip over each other's feet, laugh. When his face moves close to yours... kiss him.

Eight. When your racist father starts talking about socioeconomic classes, remind him that unlike your brother's American friends, your friends are sober. (Well, more sober. Do not bring up tequila. They're not potheads, at least.) Besides, your Spanish teacher is thrilled with your miraculous improvement in spoken Spanish.

Nine. When you go bowling with him and his cousins and he whispers in your ear that people are staring at us, tell him it's just because they're jealous that I have a boyfriend that will dance with me in public.

Ten. "Te amo" is a phrase that sounds prettiest when whispered.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Winds of Time

Across the land, and in the wind, a way of life would end
Who could have known, when sons were born how deep the blood would run? 

Their legends were a journey, that rode against the wind
With prowess, and a valor that is left to memory 
Chanted by all their elders, to teach and touch the moon
The flute will tell their stories, and smoke will circle high,
then, drift with loss, and death, and cost, till silent ashes die.

We know of them , ….the sons of dawn, and daughters of the trees
Who watched the eagle sweep the sky, for signs of what would come
They heard the stars speak to the moon, soft whispers in the breeze
The young and old, who carved a place must face what would be gone
Proud and brave against the night when right would turn to wrong
Hearts bled a river, filled with pain. The dusk was red with white men's shame
Rain whispers to a sun filled sky, persuading showers to wash the stains
Where buffalo will graze again, and grasses sway against the wind

Their spirit lived, although the songs, gave thunder a new sound 
Pride tends to dying embers, and legends linger on
The songs still blend into the breeze, and trees will shelter man and child
whose heritage is carved in stone, to never feel the threat of shame
or never cringe in vain.  Yet...the river always knows

The rock, the leaf, the ruddy dust, would coat the valley floor
The cost, the loss, the bloody core, is gone, forever, more

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Native American Son

Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son,
Atop a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun.
A majestic, bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze,
Arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease!

He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation,
For the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration.
For the flowing rivers and the life-sustaining rain,
And for the beasts that roam the vast and verdant plain!

He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow,
That with true aim he can fell life-nurturing buffalo,
To contribute to the welfare of his tribal clan,
A feast of roasted meat and many hides to tan!

He prays that among his brothers peace will e'er prevail,
And that he be protected as he lopes along the trail.
He pleads for honor in battle, be the outcome victory or defeat,
And that he be brave and not falter against foes he should meet!

A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land,
Broken treaties and those who deal with deceitful hand.
With sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away,
Determined that from his fathers' paths he will not stray!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Entry for Shanity Rain's "Native American People" Contest

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Bengal

I move with stealth, assurance 
Muscles taunt beneath striped coat
Footpads softly caress the ground
My home
My sanctuary
The grasslands and forests of India
Men refer to me as Bengal
They wish to trap the predator
Sieze my freedom
Place me in a cage
I would rather be mounted on their wall

My brothers and sisters
Pace within their prisons
Lifeless meat placed at their feet
Not wild buffalo 
Where is the deer, the wild pig
No thrill of the hunt
No honor 
Life without balance
Eyes that have lost their fire

Oppressors and their children
look through bars or plexiglass windows
What can they truly see
Just a shadow of beauty
A glimmer of strength
They do not witness one like me
Powerful
Ferocious
Regal

I am Bengal
I am meant to be free
I will fight to remain
The master of this land
Come witness me here
I'm not in a cage
So I say beware
Don't come too near

For Regina's Animal poem contest.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Grow Old With Me

Breathless beauty shine bright tonight

 my loving arms will hold you tight

no wind, no storm, no evil tide

will whisk you away from my side

I'll fly you to a land where eagles soar 

where mountains climb from the shore

guide you to a meadow where nature plays

where geysers spout most every day

show you a place where the buffalo roam

where a simple man can make a home

 we'll sail the sea under star filled skies 

 gazing deeply into those caramelized eyes

we'll have no worries, we'll be carefree

so take my hand and grow old with me

Details | Buffalo Poem |

White Buffalo


elder's spirit born
white fur roams among brown capes
pale face prophecies

Details | Buffalo Poem |

My Zoo From A to Z

Alligators, Aardvarks; Arctic fox and hare. Also Armadillos and Asses will be there!

Bobcats, Beavers, Boars; One Blue whale will do! Bovines and a Booby (maybe 2)!

Caribou & Camels; *Cavies & a *Coot; Cottontails, Chipmunks, Chinchillas looking cute.

Dingoes, Deer & *Dik-diks; Dolphins doing tricks!

Elephants, an *Emu; Egrets and a Ewe.

Flying squirrels & Frogs you will find; Ferrets & Flamingos, Felines, every kind.

Goats & Gophers, swift Gazelles & Gnus; Grizzlies & Gorillas; Gibbons to amuse.

Humpbacks;Hyenas,also Harbor seals; Hummingbirds need little; Hippos need huge meals! 

*Ibex  & an Ibis, and there’s some Iguanas

Jaguars & Jackals & wading birds, Jacanas.

Killer whale; a Kangaroo; Kingbirds and the Koala too.

Ligers, Lynxes, Leopards, Langers; Llamas, Lemmings, Loons & Lemurs.

Manatees & Manxes & some Muskrats; Mustangs, Moose, Macaws ; Mountain cats.

Nightingales & Newts; and a big Naked mole rat!

Otters & Opossums; the Ozark Big-eared bat; Ocelots and Orca too. imagine that!

Pumas, Panthers, Penguins, Polar Bears & *Pipits; Puffins, Peacocks, Pelicans & *Peewits. 

*Qhetzals, such bright birds to see; also a Queen snake, Queen rat & Queen bee.

Rhinos, Rams & Reindeer need a look! Racoons too, & have you seen the Rook?

Sable, Sloth & Skunks & Snowy owl, Snipes & Swifts & *Squabs are other fowl.

Tigers, Toucans, *Tapirs; and just now born. . . 

Utah prairie dogs, Uganda Kob and the only one around, the Unicorn!

Vultures, Vipers, Vixens, and more than that; a Vole & Vervet & the Vampire bat!

Walruses, a Weasel, & the silly *Wallaroo; Woodchucks, Wolverines, Warthog too.

*Xenopus & *Xerus; *Xenarthra & *Xantus. 

*Yaffles & a Yellow belly lizard; a Yeti (found naked in a blizzard).

*Zanzibar and Zebra & the *Zebu; Finally a *Zigzag and a *Zoo-zoo!

Definitions of the uncommon animal names in this poem: 
Cavies - Hoofed animals   Coots -diving birds                Dik-diks - type of Antelopes
Emu - like Ostrich             Ibex - wild goat                     Langurs -Long tailed Monkeys
Pipits - small songbirds     Peewits -shore birds               Qhetzals -jungle bird
Squabs -Birds                  Tapirs -S. American Swine      Wallaroo -large Water buffalo
Xenopus -Frog                 Xerus - Ground squirrel            Xenarthra -Anteaters
Xantus - Bird                   Yaffles - Green woodpeckers   Zanzibar -Gecko
Zebu - Ox                         Zigzag - Salamander                 Zoo-zoo -Wood pigeon

Details | Buffalo Poem |

North American Indian - Contest

Native American people had  a set rule of living
The men hunted and protected
The women, cook, child mind and made clothing
To maintain both was an accomplishment.

The man when it's time to forage for food
Got ready their spears, arrows, bows and knives
These were the tools of their trade
Bringing home the buffalo, turkey, deer, salmon to survive

Nothing was wasted  of an animal
They created weapons with the bones
Stomach acted as a water carriers
Skin or fur would be used for shelter and clothes 

They were farmers also, with crops to plant
In doing this it gives them a place to live
A permanent residence along with other settlers
Their roaming days are over, peace is all they want

These proud people who were persecuted by most
Have survived and learned to live in peace
Are they treated fairly, or are classed as lower citizens
Their land taken, no compensation given, hopes crushed.

The before and after of a Native American life
From people being in awe of the tribes
To looking down on them regarding them as worthless
To be rounded up like cattle and put in settlements

But they will survive,they have survived.



Penned August 8th 2015

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Pure Of Heart

Wise Grandfather Shaman, 
I am pure of Heart,
I bathe beneath the Moon, 
and dry beneath the Sun,
I listen to the Wind,
I run with the Deer,
I hunt with the Wolves,
I fish with the Eagles and Hawks,
I ride with the Wild Paints,
And roam with the Buffalo,
I grow with Grandmother Tree,
Ever learning from her Wisdom, 
I am skilled in Warrior Ways,
A strong Hunter, 
A compassionate Listener,
A patient Tracker,
I have gathered with the other women,
Contributing to our tribes growth and strength,
I leave no tracks of moccasins in the soft clay,
My heart is pure,
And I wish to continue my journy,
Wise Grandfather Shaman,
Allow me to enter your lodge,
I will smoke from the sacred pipe,
My heart is pure.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Lakota

I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.

Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.

Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.

A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.

We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.

On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.

Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.

We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.

Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.


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

Details | Buffalo Poem |

An Iowan's Heart

The sweet green hills of Iowa were once my home
Till I moved west where buffalo once used to roam.

I now live in a valley, mountains all around.
It’s lovely, but there’s not one firefly to be found.

I don’t miss Iowa’s muggy air, for here it’s dry,
But how I miss the pretty farms with corn so high!

I miss the summer twilights spent with family
And seeing mighty Mississippi roll past me.

To stay here where I am now seems my destiny,
And yet an Iowan’s heart will always beat in me.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Warrior's Sorrow

When I sit my horse on hilltops, I find,
I cannot see the buffalo no more.
As whites have come and made the plains unkind.
Soiled all wondrous things I saw before.

For many winter's, warrior's sustained.
Freed our people to seek warmer winds,
And moved as clouds before coming rain.
To share Mother Earth with our naked skins.

Clouds dark, grow higher than eagle's wings,
As we feel the coming depth of sorrow.
Each moon we see dark smoke and what it brings,
Cries and death songs will echo tomorrow.

We join in ghost dance with its paint of black,
And seek visions from warrior ghosts of old.
We hear the iron horse on its metal track,
And know its fiery heart is burning cold.

Whites who come take each mountain they climb
While bones from buffalo and elk grow deep
Warrior's blood will  know the end of time.
Mothers who suckled us with milk, shall weep.

Details | Buffalo Poem |

life with Trump V, VI, VII, VIII

Author's Note: Recite the following using the rhythm and melody of "Home, home on the range where the deer and the antelope play." The first verse can be used as the refrain:

His income tax structure is strange
Donald will the needy shortchange
The overly rich 
Claim their life is a bitch
For them he’ll find bucks on the range 

A clear planet earth never smokes 
But Trump’s cohorts grim are the Kochs
Where fossils remain
They'll tear into the plain
Fracking rigs are their dirty jokes 

There's fat upon Miss USA
The Donald says queen you shall pay!
"For my regal job"
She did painfully sob
"Is rehab a roll in the hay?"

Like buffalo once were so vast 
Our middle class was unsurpassed
Now they are the prey
While republicans play
And deny the climate forecast

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Red Leaf

,          ,          ,          ,          ,          ,          ,          ,           ,          ,

He is called Red Leaf…. birth child of autumn, and son of the trees
His euphonious legend is heard in the breeze
He is young, he is strong, he has proven his courage
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of the reaper
His spirit was not broken, by the weight of the storm
His steadfastness will not melt like the springtime snow
 
                                                            

He has honor, respect, and a gallantry within
His songs are his journey, he plays to soothe the wind
There is prowess, and valor in each haunting lullaby
He was taught by his elders, sad songs that touch the sky
His flute holds the stories, like the sound of lonely larks
Of loss, and death, of drifting smoke, and silent ashes
Of when the mountains cried in anguish, and the sky looked on in pain

                                                            

But yesterday creates today, and holds a promise for tomorrow
New songs are played, today telling of laughter of the birds
And whispers of a bluer sky, how gentle rain will cleanse the smoke
How buffalo will graze again, where the tall grasses will wave again
Red Leaf warms the tender embers, his memories linger on
He plays the songs that drift away,  
Trees above where branches sway
The rock, the leaf, the ruddy dust that coats the valley floor
Someday must return, and be restored, just as it was before

,          ,          ,           ,           ,          ,          ,            ,          ,          ,          ,          ,

Details | Buffalo Poem |

Everything In Life Is Circular

My culture has been taken away,
I am a result of the government;
my hair dark and long
sometimes I wear it in braids,
I am of an era brought up white.
My life happy and I have been loved,
though, I always knew that I was different
and have a wildness inside of me
that could never be tamed.

     (I yearned for something unseen;
      in dreams I ride a wild horse
      and live in a forest- green.)

In time I was told:
that I was Ojibwe
so I went in search of my roots,
the reason for my vivid dreams.
I recall my first visit to an Ojibwe Culture Center,
where I felt, this is where I belong, with
my people.
I listened to the teachings of the elders
their stories, songs, and the beating drums,
I heard the lessons on morals, values and spirit.

The stepping stones one must follow,
The 7 Grandfather teachings;
the wolf, the raven, the buffalo, the bear, 
the beaver, the turtle, and the eagle
and that everything in life is circular, and
the heart is the center;
and after all this I embraced the eagle.

     (The eagle flies the highest and is
       closest to the creator and sees all
       from a great distance, the eagle
       is the core to all teachings. The
       eagle is love.)

One day, I climbed a high cliff
I stood tall in my doe skin dress,
and my black braids blew in the wind
in my mind drums beat a rhythmic pounding
and the elders sang.
Soon an eagle was hovering above in the azure
and down drifted an eagle feather
into my hands.
This is considered the highest honor
the most sacred gift,
I placed it in my hair-  and now I have found
my place in the circle of life and who I am
meant to be.

_________________________
February 10, 2017

Narrative/Everything In Life Is Circular
Copyright Protected, ID 874147


Native American Lore Contest
sponsor, Frank Herrera

Third Place