Best Knee Poems
if you wanted to dance with me
i mean really wanted to dance with me
then i would
i would dance with you
if you needed me to walk on water
i would stand there until the lake froze
then i would
i would walk on water for you
if you suggested i climb
a mountain
warm at the bottom
freezing at the peak
i'd buy you a snow globe
turn it upside down and up
hold your hand warm
watch the freezing snowfall
climb your suggestion creatively
if you mentioned
you'd like me to paint your portrait
i'd buy every different colour of acrylic paint I could find
blend them on a canvas
paint your colourful internal portrait
every crayon in the box
that's who i see
if you said move me
i wouldn't hire a truck
or even touch one stick of furniture
i would write this poem for you
put a bow on it
fingers crossed
i would move you
your lips are always on my mind
if you want a man
willing to do...
...a man...
...hold you gentle but firm
i'm here
ring in hand
on one knee
November 28 2016
An outpouring of happiness,
love surges up from the heart
and splashes against the soul:
an emotion, exclusive to humans.
More than a ubiquitous word:
love is an overwhelming feeling of elation
that burns in your heart,
and merges with your soul;
defying logic and reason.
The human heart entertains a multitude
of inexplicable innate feelings,
that fuel hopes and expectations.
Love is such a feeling:
both ethereal and physical,
it defines humanity.
A heart imbued with love will forgive:
what a prideful heart will not.
For love's a knee-jerk reaction
that requires no thought.
Love can bring excruciating pain,
or a euphoric adrenaline rush:
either way, it will not be ignored
nor ever fade away.
tempest stomps her feet
as she shakes her liquid skirt
knee deep in N'awlins
The Black Hills wept for Thee
East of the Black Hills of South Dakota,
On the Pine Ridge Reservation,
Live a proud tribe of Oglala Lakota,
Part of the Great Sioux Nation.
On saddled chargers rode half the Regiment,
of the Seventh Cavalry.
A tune they played on behalf of the GarryOwen,
was such a sight to see.
While climbing through Prickly pines, they spied,
near the summit of Porcupine Butte.
Spotted Elk with Hunkpapa Lakota tribe,
the chief of the Minneconjou.
Five miles West through the cold day they walked,
the Lakota and soldiers of the Seventh,
Where Wounded Knee creek's icy waters balked,
between hell and heaven.
The Colonel ordered all of the tribe's rifles confiscated,
while the braves danced the ghost dance.
For rumor had spread of a new religion, long awaited,
that would turn the tide of chance.
Then suddenly came the report of rifles fired,
as the women and children fled to a ravine.
From the heights the thunder of cannon, now inspired,
close quarter fighting and lead, now convened.
Who knows where Providence went,
on that cold December morning.
Both guilty and innocent, now spent,
lay dead with little warning.
Bodies of the fallen now sprawled across the snowy plains,
with faces frozen in a moment of violence.
One mass grave with all, is all that remains,
of tears and laughter forever silenced.
In the days that followed medals were pinned to chests,
who proclaimed victoriously.
Though God only knows why, ignoble and divest,
life taken in vain, ingloriously.
In the shadow of the land of Sitting Bull,
was now told the tragic story.
Passed down from Mother to Daughter were recounted,
days of lost glory.
“Let us put our minds together to see what life we can make for our children.”
-Sitting Bull
They Call It Wounded Knee
I came, I saw, I cried;
To the field where they died.
They call it Wounded Knee;
My peoples' history.
Bodies lying, frozen to the ground;
No mourners to be found.
Children still clinging to their mothers;
Laying dead beside their brothers.
The smell of death in the air;
Pools of blood everywhere.
Babies with their heads bashed in;
To waste an army bullet on them would be a sin.
Soldiers surveying their wicked deeds;
Mugging for pictures with the "savage" breed.
Celebrating the slaughter of the Sioux;
Burial is for Christians, but for Indians a mass grave would do.
Sporting medals upon their chest;
Saying that they conquered the west.
Taking the lives of an entire race;
Feeling no remorse or disgrace.
I came, I saw , I cried;
I asked questions of why.
The people of Wounded Knee;
Could not have life and liberty.
The answer was simply said;
"Kill the animals until they're all dead".
"Let my God sort them out";
Land is what it's all about.
The place where the mighty Sioux fell;
Is a white man's hell.
Once was a place of pride;
The field where they died.
Darlene Doll Smith
Take a Knee
Let’s call it a day
We’ve been over this
‘Til there’s naught else to say
Take a knee
Don’t make a sound
My will is Power
Now get on the ground
Take a knee
One day you’ll see
When I’ve got the gun
Justice is Me
May 29, 2020
A cloud from the sky
plopped down on my knee
Said, ‘Do you realize
all my rain is for free’
Not only that
for the cloud was not done
asking, ‘Are you aware
I shield folks from the sun’
Taken aback, I kept my mouth shut ~
relaxing under a shady chestnut
Creator of heaven and earth
whose Son was born of virgin birth
one God, a trinity of three,
on bended knee, I worship thee.
Lord of kindness, mercy, and love
hailed on Earth and Heaven above
whose eternal spirit runs free,
on bended knee, I worship thee.
You gave life to clay with Your breath
God of birth, youth, old age, and death
You, who are everything to me,
on bended knee, I worship thee.
My Lord, in both spirit and truth,
You entered my heart in my youth
answering my impassioned plea,
on bended knee, I worship thee.
Lord, You're my reason for being
and I believe without seeing
shouting hallelujah with glee,
on bended knee, I worship thee.
Write my story, in rhymes and prayers
Light of joy, in the skies, quiet tears
Praise in colors of laughter, sincere hope
Ways of a spirit who knows how to cope
Tell the world about this love that grows
Smell the roses, where faith surely knows
Rains of the autumn rest on those who see
Pains are erased by love when I fall to my knee
A ridiculous sight for all to see
in my tacky sweater of Charlie Brown:
I'm nervously sitting on Santa's knee.
I wouldn't be here, except my friends dared me,
a full-grown man, acting more like a clown:
a ridiculous sight for all to see.
When my friends start laughing, I try to flee:
my smile, suddenly replaced by a frown,
I'm nervously sitting on Santa's knee.
Santa's too jolly; ignoring my plea,
embarrassed, I'm desperate to get down:
a ridiculous sight for all to see.
Holding me tight, with a sly look of glee:
as he asks me to go out on the town,
I'm nervously sitting on Santa's knee.
Santa's suit is dirty; it smells of pee:
damping any desire to stick around.
A ridiculous sight for all to see:
I'm nervously sitting on Santa's knee.
Historically accurate, narrative poem
29 December, 1890 - At Wounded Knee Creek
A baby cries for its mother slain
and a way of life dies on that frozen plain.
Old Chief Big Foot and his small band,
for Custer’s last stand are made to pay-
on that cold December day.
Women, children, and unarmed braves-
lie tattered and torn, dying and dead-
in and along a crooked shallow rill
that afforded no protection to those that cringe
from the 7th’s deadly Hotchkiss guns on the hill.
Custer’s former command has at long last-
on defenseless people exacted unfair revenge-
for past defeat in combat fair.
The Great Spirit sent a blizzard that same night-
to cleanse the air and hide the earth
so that he could not see-
the death and carnage inflicted there
at Wounded Knee.
The carnage is long past-
all now is serene at Wounded Knee,
and upon the hill on the very spot
where once the Hotchkiss guns did stand-
a small strip of land now remains
for Chief Big Foot and his Minneconjou band.
Finally theirs for eternity or until the sun sets no more-
purchased on that cold December day
with blood and gore at Wounded Knee.
cjf
“I did not know then how much was ended-
When I look back from this high hill of my old age-
I can still see the butchered women and children-
lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch-
as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young.
And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud-
and was buried in the blizzard.
A people’s dream died there-
the hoop is broken and scattered-
there is no center any more, and the tree is dead.”
Chief Black Elk @1932
I once had a Doc take some stitches
Apparently not without glitches
Because now when I sneeze
I jerk at the knees
And kick people in the britches
On bended knee
I hope you know
Of how much I feel
my heart bestow
For now I offer
my hand my love
a golden band
and pure white doves
Perhaps you'll arrive
in princess carriage
what ever you want
the perfect marriage
Through happiness
and sickness too
I've one true love
and that is you
So if you'll say yes
and marry me
through all my days
I'll cherish thee
Chorus:
Wounded Knee, hear their plea,
Hear their cries, hear their sighs,
Hear their dreams,
The Ghost Dance
Was their chance to be free.
Narration:
When the gold rush in the 1870's,
Brought the white man in,
Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull,
Began to raid again.
Who knows if it was just or not,
In wild and lawless days,
Sitting Bull retird to the reservation
And for many years there stayed.
Chorus:
Then in the 1890's,
Wovoka, a piaute man,
Taught the Indians the Ghost Dance
To bring peace to their land.
The pony soldiers feared this rite,
And arrested Sitting Bull,
When he resisted and was killed,
The soldiers lost control.
His people fled and joined Big Foot,
The soldiers brought them back,
To a camp on Creek Wounded Knee,
And some rotten, filthy shacks.
In freezing winter, no means of heat,
Men, women and children crouched there,
Not even as warm as an animal,
Snug in a den or lair.
Chorus:
No one knows how it started,
Some say a Medicine Man,
Threw a handful of power in the air,
As a signal, the fight began.
Yet others say a soldier,
While the Indians were being disarmed,
With a rifle shot, an accident or not,
Was the one that set off the alarm.
I guess it doesn't matter,
For when the fight was done,
Two hundred sixty there had died,
Tell me who really won?
This was the deciding battle,
It was the last big fight
To occur on the nothern plains
Between, the Indian and the White.
Cile Beer
Chorus:
*
Dakota Land albumn written l975
Executing my pace to destiny with an added pair of legs
makes it a perfect symphony
the long queue of my aspirations and visions
will translate into reality
by passing through the doors of your views.
Your focus, ideology and belief, nothing more I expect
corresponding to mine, like a lock and key
that I respect.
One can expertly execute, but two will effectively deliver
every bridge has two ends
and no coin has just one side.
Little wonder!
The body’s functionality naturalizes in pairs.
the limbs, eyes, ears and lungs;
even the mouth, nose and the brain
house anatomically paired contents.
This rounded finger-loving element
just confirms our steady Life’s movement.
My mind rings with an uproar of oceans
but not anointing that finger becomes my dreadful superstition.
Now! Let’s honour the “pair-religion” as I…
Stand on a foot and a knee, engaging you with the popular line
“Will you marry me?”