Best Native American Poems

INDIAN INK

Indian Accent, form 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 CLINGING to the...

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your labored breathing
called out to me
and in my soul I knew
what needed to be done

I reached for the drum
to summon the spirits
called out to ancestors
and anyone who’d listen

gently tapping to the rhythm
of our beating hearts
united as one in a prayer
released to the universe

filled the silence...

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I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying...

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listen to the drum,

talking to the dance

listen to the elders, 

whispering their chants

listen to the hooves, pounding on the plain

listen to the birds, prophesying rain

listen to the moon, time to plant the grain

listen to the tales, told around the fire

listen to the breeze, and the...

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--Virginia Slim--

Different eyes, the same world 
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl 
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair 
---Now listen to  the colors, of transformation, 
On the day she was born, the wind blew in, 
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A  gorgeous puff...

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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...

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The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I...

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Medicine Hat Appaloosa
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remember free will too has been gifted,
with freedom allied to fate's fickle choice.
Tendered words uttered still..now uplifted, 
God provides each one a life and a voice.

Ere life ebbs and scrimshaw scrolled hands beckon, 
find strength in Medicine Hat horse's paint.
Flesh prized and spirit...

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Cherokee Tears

ceremonial drums' rhythmic heartbeat
impassioned tribal chants
echo in Smoky Mountain mist before dawn

tortured spirit of an ignoble president
Andrew Jackson seems imprisoned here
haunted by wailing ghosts of tribe members
too old to meet Jackson's mandate

rise up, carry all you own
except your memories, your hopes
abandon graves of your...

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A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars, 
In the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
Once, the People owned all the wilderness,
They called it home, now they watch it be destroyed. 

There, high upon a sheer jagged, rocky cliff,
An appaloosa horse of...

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Charcoal black tip of arrowhead,
among these ancient, stones - stained red

Heartbeats share rhythms of ghostly drums..
Winds carry haunting, chanting hums

I feel your blood, flow here with mine,
outlasting, even decaying time

I've been told the stories, told to you,
I know we're just spirits, passing through

When thunder, shakes...

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‘neath the halo of a full moon
Wind Talker gives music to the night
flute carved from a fallen tree
 
he plays to the dwindling forest
trees that remain and creatures losing habitat
softly the melody resonates through the woods
 
Wind Talker recalls stories handed down
tribal legacies of prosperity,...

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       my chief ...

thoughts go back to that again -
    the day you found me on the plain
      so bleeding from a musket wound
  and dying, slow, with fear and...

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Angel Bones

Two Hundred fifteen angels  (Narration by an elder)
each buried in a shallow grave
The monsters said the Angels were savages
that they were there to save

Each little heartbeat 
cries up from the earth
“Come seek out our answers.  (Narration by child)
please prove that we have...

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For My Children
-	Daniel Henry Rodgers

As dawn's first blush ignites the eastern sky—a cool
Caress of dew upon the breeze—and the birds' serenade
Pierces the silence, their notes ascending high.

The mist, like a spectral ballet, pirouettes, twirling
In the light. And the flowers, in their resplendent array,
Bloom, banishing the...

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