Best Hopi Poems
I am to him a Stradivarius, a treasured violin
His bow expertly caresses my supple strings
My body moans when tucked beneath his chin
Revving to his rhythmic pulse, my heart sings
I am the delicate ivory he strokes on his keyboard
his adventurous fingers roam over me in staccato
Those romantic interludes he's adeptly scored
accompanies intimacy to the point of crescendo
I am the mouthpiece on his golden saxophone
Our blues brings about passion and lustful desire
From a distance I hear the pitch of a lone trombone
Emotions build with the heat of a roaring wildfire
Across the well worn bridge of his idle acoustic guitar
I yearn for the virtuoso's touch to strum my chords
But there's no harmony, although we've come so far
No gliding glissandos found at the tips of drawn swords
Now he plays mournful melodies on a native Hopi flute
Reflecting our lives in every wistful and somber note
We're both lost, wandering like phantoms in pursuit
of lost love. We're adrift without oars or sail for our boat
With each wave a tear falls as I lay sheltered in the bow
He sits astern listening to music whistled by the wind
staring at the far horizon with worry etched on his brow
Is this, I wonder, punishment for those who have sinned
Categories:
hopi, lost love, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
Come December 21, two thousand and twelve
On the winter solstice, mankind may burn in hell
As man's Creator, I've sent multiple warnings
Nostradamus, the Mayans, Hopi Indians
All believed there was still time to reverse this course
But My warnings have ceased, even My voice grows hoarse
Dear Father, my sacred heart is of course willing
Though mind be the enmity of Christ's blood spilling
My center most being, with Your spirit's all seeing
The sacrifice of Your son saves souls of all beings
Father, though slay my flesh, Thou hast immortal stash
For Thou has the Adamantine, the adamant cash
This is not the response I expected from you
My warnings so long unheeded have made me blue
You are my children and I vow to save your souls
But to save your flesh, you will have to meet these goals
Let the evil wars end, allow nature to thrive
Cast aside all notions of greed to stay alive
I shall heed with God speed to sow the righteous seed
My love will manifest, for 'tis my soul's main heed
I shall present my flesh body as this soul's alarm
I shall not conform, from this world I shall transform
Holy acceptably my receptacle sin free
By my renewed mind transformed by Christ's mind shall be
I will spare your flesh if your words prove to be true
In turn, dire prophesies I promise to undo
Encouraged am I to hear you express remorse
It was never My wish to take action so coarse
To save body and soul, I sacrificed my Son
It has been My wish that all men will live as one
Forgive Father, so shall I speak just this once more
As Thou has given thus this world for to explore
‘Twas a parasite seed from derivative mind's greed
Brought forth by chance, a wild branch, doeth Thou not concede
Purgeth my wild branch of chance, ‘tis your right to do
That I might pursue Your true vine, my love be true
Categories:
hopi, devotion, faith, forgiveness, upliftingworld,
Form:
Rhyme
IV. Interconnected Web
Teach your children the ethos of
the rampart-
of the earth under their feet.
Is it more than just soil? It's heaven —
The Chosen Hallowed Retreat
Where we connect
For you must see life as fully rich with
the resounding vibrations of our
kindred lives on this sacred earth.
Our temporary home.
For whatever happens to her
happens to our kindred race.
All life is connected. Wouldn't you agree?
For all life is like
blood that unites a family,
by a process of no creation.
For there is no division. One must see
Humanity and other forms of life
are knitted together...
by the fabric of existence.
Which are only a part of
circle of life cycle.
Each time we do, we are getting
our bodies intertwined.
Just like the Hopi who revere sacred mesas,
we must honor our...
Ancestral wisdom -
winding through desert canyons.
A sacred thread is planting -
our stories into the mother land.
Into the wind-carved rocks' etched. In coyotes'...
starry night songs!
We hear earth's eternal rhythms,
guiding us along.
Feel the warmth of the sun-soaked soil
beneath bare feet.
Perhaps, the cool, refreshing
touch of mountain -
stream water.
Let us smell the wild sage carried on
a gentle breeze.
And hear the wind swept leaves of
ancient trees.
In these moments, we connect to
the heartbeat of the earth.
As Katsina spirits teach through
their dances that
We are temporary guests
on this sacred land.
Yes, stewards of its beauty, bounty,
and balance. —
Our legacy layered by our
own deeds' hands.
Through each mindful step and every
gentle touch
We praise and honor
the interconnectedness web of life.
So Must Stop! and ask:
How now can we translate this
intimate and spiritual connection into
a harmonic coexistence and illiminate
the discordant strife?
Categories:
hopi, earth, life, native american,
Form:
Free verse
From the Painted Desert, head west
Past sagebrush, brittle bush, desert scrub
And The Petrified Forest at rest
To the Rocky Mountains above
Go past the Continental Divide
Below Douglas firs and pinyon pines
Head down the sunset side
Where the Colorado River cuts and winds
Many generations ago
Native Americans were inhabiting squatters
There were herds of buffalo
Along with now extinct muskrats and river otters
Beaver, cut cottonwoods and willows
Leopard frogs slept on limestone pillows
Mule deer and bighorn sheep
Climbed up and down walls so steep
Follow me down the foot trail
Like indigenous butterflies with swallowtails
In to the Valley of the Sun
Where Hopi civilization begun
Tassel eared squirrels frolic about
Bald eagles fly over and scout
Stream orchids, honey mesquite and arrow weeds
For pocket mice and other rodent species
Gray fox, weasels, bobcats
Spotted skunks, ring tails, and bats
Call this canyon their home
Where bark scorpions and rattlesnakes roam
While gila monsters and red spotted toads
Search for midges, flies and black widows
It took this river millions of years
To make this home for all who are here
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
hopi, adventure, america, animal, history,
Form:
Rhyme
I would like to pay tribute to those who died
While introducing you to our native pride
We are Cherokee, Iroquois, and Lakota
We are Navajo, Algonquin, and Dakota
Our lands were open and free to roam
But when the pilgrims came, we lost our home
We are Omaha, Sioux, and Pawnee
We are Mohegan, Crow, and Shawnee
Our people were brave, our tribes were strong
What was done to them was very wrong
We are Hopi, Ottawa, and Comanche
We are Pueblo, Cree, and Apache
Now my friends, let the truth be told
Our people were killed, beaten and sold
To this day we get no respect
The word used to describe us, we must reject
A football team even bears the name
Which brings us dishonor, grief and shame
So tell me the truth, what would you say
For us, is it a Thanksgiving Day?
Categories:
hopi, america, native american, remember,
Form:
Nostradamus quatrains
Famous Frenchman’s foreboding forecasts
History’s course, well-charted in rhyme
Startling revelations
Called Hitler “Hister,” brothers three – Kennedys
Forewarned the fall of “New City’s” twin towers
Dire observations
Verses recently discovered reveal
Civilization’s demise, two thousand twelve
Further consternation
Stretching across cold Atlantic waters
Unknown to him, two tribes concur
Hopi, Mayan predictions
The end of time draws near; final years
Proclaimed in calendars, written in sky
Chilling Armageddon
Nuclear war; stars and planets collide
Hellish fury fuels the clash; Earth dies
Sacred retribution
When on the winter solstice, man harkens
To the call of God; Judgment Day arrives
Categories:
hopi, visionary
Form:
Free verse
Light travels faster than sound... that's why
Some appear bright till they speak
I'm sure we've all met some people like this
They're not all totally unique
The main reason Santa is always so jolly
He knows where the bad girls reside
Never really thought Santa could be naughty
Sure like to go with him on his ride
A psychiatrist once told me I was crazy
Told him I wanted a second opinion
He said well then, you're quite ugly too
Ain't no cure for that condition
Men have two emotions, hungry and horny
If you see one without an ********
Make the poor man a sandwich, he's hungry
Later you can show him affection
A fortune teller once told me I would marry
Into a very famous Indian tribe
You'll surely become one big Hopi family
And live in a teepee with your bride
The world's fattest man should be a hockey goalie
He'd be famous and go down in history
For never allowing even a single puck past him
The reason is certainly no mystery
I received a degree in Calcium Anthropology
The study of creatures called milkmen
When asking for something on sale at the store
Surprise, it's not available. Amen!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
hopi, silly,
Form:
Narrative
Kachina of the Hopi
There are so many of you
Holding sway with our nation
We of the Hopi yearn for your wisdom
Your powers over air and water
Talk to us in gentle tones
Let our ancestors rejoice at our life
Let them release us from misery
From the memories we had of long ago
Let fertility become your watchword
As you tend to our people and crops
We teach our children of your ways
We make your form to show them
The creatures of the Earth
Adorn the images of your form
With feathers and seed of the Earth
We will teach our children to walk tall
We will sing and dance your praises
At the Soyal we will renew our vows
Ahola oh ancient one watch over our sun
You led our people that long time past
We walked from the Mountains of the East
To the great plains of the Middle land
You showed us the track of the sun
Hear us now oh special one
We ask only that which we need
Forgive us our wants that we can live again
Send to us Chaveyo, show those that do wrong
Put our people on the road of the Great Spirit
You are many where we are now few
I will talk to you again Great Spirit
Forgive this lowly creature
Take my love and praise for ever
Categories:
hopi, native american, people, children,
Form:
Free verse
Hey, Pilgrims,
Let's dress-up
Dress-down the plumes
of the dancing Peacock
(If we'd allow)
but for the Ritual;
For Francsly speaking
in tongues of plata y oro,
Pound-for-bloody-pound
How much 'cide this buys?
A simply-uneasy angst to the quest,
Oh, how Corpulent "m.d.'s" -
Which dystrophy Indigene Water - Land - Identity muscle
Manifest your Destiny! - Trophied.
Lots of time for sargeants,
for unhappy Cherokee rides on trails to tears
Led from 50,000 years to Discovery? Indeed!
With no reservation
'cept to enslave the Spirit,
And with tobacco & cotton gotten
from the corn colors of the Earth!
Are the Iroquois/Mohawk/Navajo/Cherokee/Hopi
Thankfully jeeping...?
Don You grisly-now...
Our meleagris gallopavo decapatito,
Strut and march like mute Mummera in the Charade!
Cum Multis Aliis
Categories:
hopi, angst, black african american,
Form:
Free verse
I ride the mesas
Wherever I go
Are Hopi, Zuni,
And tall Navajo
So many people
On dry, barren land
All Trump says is,
"They sure have got sand!"
Categories:
hopi, betrayal, corruption, discrimination, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Poem: This Rock
Poet: Ken Jordan
Edited By: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2012
This rock
This Holy
piece of stone -
Bestowed upon
the Pueblo People
of the
Tribal Nations
by the
Great Spirit,
some
seven thousand
years ago -
Gave way to
a Ceremonial
tribal gatherings
to
give
thanks, honor
and prayers
to the
Great Spirit
for blessing
them with ,
This Rock
This holy
piece of stone -
The Pueblo People
sang
and
danced
as they
held
this priceless
Devine
and
Sacred Rock
majestically
to
the heavens -
And
on this day
became
the first known
people
to set foot
on these
hallowed
grounds
of the
Grand Canyon -
Their master
craftsmanship
of masonry
showed
in their
Dwelling's -
They built
communities
on this
stoney
"so-called,"
inhabitable
terrain,
constructed
from
This Rock
This Holy
piece of stone -
Even now
remnants
of their
craft
still shadows
the valley -
There are
caves
on the face
of the canyon
ancient as time -
And
Ruins of
Stone Huts
in the
Bottomland
down by
the river -
Their faith,
hope,
strength,
and will,
reflects
today
from their
past -
In the
solitude of
the setting sun,
one can hear
old voices
speaking
in native tongue,
Echoing
across the canyon,
carried by
the silent wind -
O' Great Spirit
this Rock
is your
hand print -
This Rock
is
the breath
of YOU-
And YOU
bestowed
This Rock
upon
a grateful
and
humble people -
And
they held
This Devine
and
Sacred Rock
majestically
to the heavens -
praising you
for their
new found
beginning's -
Their legacy
lives on today
through the
new keepers
of
the canyon -
The Hopi
and Zuni
nations -
Who are
master
craftsmen
in their own
spirit...
The Torch
burns bright
in remembrance
of the
Pueblo People,
and
what they
achieved
with a Rock-
This Rock
This Holy
piece of stone -
Categories:
hopi, native american
Form:
Light Verse
For Paula Swanson's "Beseech" contest:
Prose Poetry Verse:
God has given the moon the stars.
He remains a God beyond the stars!!!
A year or two ago, "Ort" was discovered in space and is where stars are formed -
yes, new stars born upon the darkest of skies ever...?
This scientific world; fascinations with what is beyond, as if "Jacobs ladder" did not
teach us all something.
Objects accidently left in space, just nuts or bolts, yet with the velocity upon
crashing upon the earth surface....?
The lovers and the lonely gaze upon these small bits of light in wonder, in comfort
It has been that way;
ponderings of the heart, the soul, and the mind~
There are as many stars in the sky as grains of sands upon the earth.
This is fact?
It is infact how the Hopi, many old scholars and cultures too, made our time, our
calendar... it is within our own peception of how we could at times perceive the
stars, and yes, "time", time, time, "I am afraid I don't have enough....!" (murmurs)
When in fact, we as humans made that!!!?
Our time, I believe is His Glorious, Lord God that provides all things to both the good
and evil, His love, we only know so little. Like a drop of water in a bucket of ALL His
Love, so, if you ponder to the stars tonight, shed a tear, for some will fall instantly,
many a day; Our Lords magnificence.....goes on and on, and His wrath will come.
Blessed starlight... these bits of light, how I do admire your gestures to the
illuminations of the moon so high, and we awake; another breath~ a Sun!!!!
Echoing in my sanity that is on solid rock~?
~
God bless everyone in the world, please keep our families, our loves safe, within
these times, it is difficult. amen
God, thank you for your Son! Praise to you, Oh Father, Most High
Praises!!!
Categories:
hopi, faith, hope, life, people,
Form:
Verse
“Santa Fe”
Santa Fe, Santa Fe,
Oh Santa Fe,
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Where mountain peaks
Are bathed in gold.
Where artists and seekers
Come to unfold.
Where natives live in ages past
Stair step terra-cotta
Rise on desert floors.
Where artists come to paint and play
Calling all to Santa Fe
Dream maker’s dreams
Come true in the
Travertine
Aisles of Canyon Road.
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Zuni, Navajo and Hopi jewels
Laid out on woven throws.
Travelers come to barter
For jewels upon their wrists.
Sculptors, painters and weavers
Silversmiths, potters and glass blowers
Excite the spirits hidden deep
Within your soul.
The joy of beauty unfolds.
Galleries upon Galleries;
Artistic nudes,
Golden sunsets and landscapes.
Glimpses through storefront glass
Play on your senses.
The sun shines bright in Santa Fe.
Boxes carved in walls
Deliver stories from the past.
Colored doors tell tales of lives within.
Many an O’Keeffe have come and gone
Yet they linger in the spirits
And walls of Santa Fe.
No other place inspires
Like Santa Fe.
I dream of her
Whenever I’m blue.
Take me back to Santa Fe;
Paint a picture on my soul.
You wake up my senses
You beautify my soul
You heal my sorrows
You bring joy to my life
When I die let it be in Santa Fe
There is no better place
To lay your bones
Than dear old Santa Fe.
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Lon 9/24/2021
Categories:
hopi, adventure, art, beautiful, city,
Form:
Free verse
Tonight I stayed at work until 7:00.
It was dark when I locked the front doors.
Winter approaches again, soon the great coat
huddled like a rug around me. The streets
were active as usual, block residents
hanging out front steps. I said goodnight
to Nydian Figueroa, after school counselor.
I bought a beer at the deli on Third Ave.
from the Arab owner. He’s a bit upset about
the bottle bill.
Collecting bottles from small groceries
could be a useful youth employment enterprise.
I walked down Fifth along the park in the dark
drinking my beer and looking at women. I need
a good badly. I tried to decide whether
to go to the movies, a Hopi film Howard recommended,
or just go home, watch tv and light a candle.
Maybe I’d meet someone at the film.
Can I handle
the malady of going home tonight? If I die,
I die alone.
I turned west toward the subway
past the museum, through the park.
I can’t look at the myriad lights in buildings
large enough to hold a small town. It increases
my anxiety and anonymity to the breaking point.
I hoped to be mugged, for the human contact.
Two big guys looked me over, but I lowered
my center of gravity and they passed quietly. Survival
feels fine, proves I am alive.
The white pines
in this corner of the park hold a cool, earthy air
reminding me of coming winter, that mortality is
restful, of the black bear and swollen river I saw
500 miles away and only one day ago.
Categories:
hopi, dark, life, river, school,
Form:
Free verse
Good night full autumn moon shining so bold.
Harvest is done this eve of this seasons end.
I rest for this short period before the bitter cold.
Playing my flute for you, my music I do send.
I may be sad though my heart is gratefully filled.
Good night full autumn moon shining so bold.
Winters strength comes soon, elders’ bones are chilled.
Weak with age though their memories brisk to be told.
Stories rich with truth, understanding natures mold.
Within the wilderness, my soul captured by insight,
Good night full autumn moon shining so bold.
I shall await the next day’s prudence, our tribes fight.
As the moons shadows come out, though I never see,
I play for natures delight, praising all things we never hold.
My name is Len which means flute from the tribe of Hopi.
Good night full autumn moon shining so bold
written by
Cecil Hickman
written for
Sponsor ~ Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ ~
Contest Name Tell HIS Story~~
Categories:
hopi, art, happiness, life, native
Form:
Quatern