Best Papoose Poems
Long tennis matches stretch on and on for love of deuce,
While endless freight trains mercifully end with a little red caboose.
Domestic snits could be shortened dramatically with a fruit juice truce,
Though kids keep on playing 'Super Elite 4' when they might be watching
'The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle the Moose.'
Some highly-paid accountants play with their clients' numbers, fast and loose,
As weight-loss specialists do patients' expanding waistlines fail to reduce.
More and more often gynecologists must early labor unexpectedly induce,
So that a healthy, social-media-acceptable baby be rapidly produced.
Romantic poets with winsome words do their audiences seduce,
Since philosophers do airtight, logical conclusions no longer deduce.
Injun squaws are still known to carry their young ones in a papoose.
Whereas a hanging by a noose is a custom quite understandably out of use.
And, of course, the current Oval Office Occupant continues to rule the roost
By tweeting, texting, and twittering a refuse-storm gallopingly profuse.
Which all leads to the inevitable, inescaple, perhaps irrefutable con-cluse
That some people will and others won't throw up their hands, saying
"What's the Use?!"
Categories:
papoose, humorous, perspective, word play,
Form:
Monorhyme
I was renowned as Chief Buffalo Chips, a great leader of many tribes.
I was given that pathetic name by my father resulting in a heap of gibes.
But with a name like his, Chief Tater Chips, what else could I expect,
So I had to count many coup in battle to gain my braves' respect!
I rode my pinto pony as free as the wind, as free as the eagle soars.
I smeared my bronzed body with colorful hues to enjoy the thrill of wars.
With bow and arrow true, I supplied my tribes with plenty buffaloes,
To feed and clothe the old and young to see them through winter snows!
I smoked the peace pipe with blue coats but they were wont to deceive,
But I got my revenge at Little Big Horn where I won my tribes' reprieve!
Many moons later The Great White Father set up a fund for Indian Relief.
(For some reason Libby Custer refused to donate due to a spiteful beef!)
My humble teepee housed many papoose and Red Deer my prolific squaw,
Plus her grumpy mother, Black Widow, my miserable mother-in-law!
When this mortal shell I shed, I thought I'd escaped eternal reprobation,
Only to find Black Widow in the Happy Hunting Ground! Oh! Such damnation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 3 in Carolyn Devonshire's " Past Lives" Contest - June 2014
Categories:
papoose, humorous, native american,
Form:
Rhyme
I have grown old and twisted with all my living;
my limbs gnarled and arthritic,
my skin rough, sometimes peeling,
turning dark beneath the sun.
Bunions and corns decorate my feet.
What a life I have lived!
In my youth, young natives sat on tender grasses at my feet;
i sheltered them in coolness,
i listened to their vows of love.
Months later, they returned to me holding the joy of new life.
I rocked their papoose in my arms,
the wind sighing lullabies through my evergreen hair
making the silver moss, hanging on my tresses, sway.
I saw them leave before the growing strength of new settlers,
weeping as they walked away from this beloved land.
A wealthy man settled the grounds where I spread my roots;
I grew and wrapped my arms around the home he built.
I was young then, strong and full of vigor;
I was the watchman at the door.
I enjoyed many years with the family,
playing with the children,
giving shade and shelter.
Early one morning, the sounds of war disturbed my sleep;
all day the battle raged.
Cannon balls ripped through my flesh;
I heard the anguished screams.
When the sun set,
the ground beneath my feet was littered
with the broken bodies of men,
dead and dying,
soldiers uniformed in both blue and gray.
Our beautiful home was nearly destroyed,
our land ravaged.
If men could only learn, as I know,
to respect and care for one another.
As time passed, my limbs healed,
through scarred, just as my heart is scarred.
Generations have come and gone,
each one passing close to my heart in fleeting succession,
but I live on.
Age shows on my body, yet I cling more tightly,
stretching deep into the ground, sucking the earth's sweet nourishment.
My arms droop low, hanging heavy with sad and happy memories.
I do not want to leave this dear, fair earth,
the tears of heaven fall,
trickling down,
bathing me in dewy sadness.
A thousand years is not enough.
Copyright, August 22, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories:
papoose, history, memory, tree,
Form:
Personification
Poor Sacagawea we will no longer see.
She was replaced by the “Father of our Country”.
Just like predecessor Susan B. Anthony,
Sac’s image is no longer on our money.
Some presidents are there now. You have bid adieu.
You carried your papoose on the front in plain view.
Before the dollar coin, we knew nothing about you.
It seems women are done no justice by the Mint.
As was Sue, your presence was less than permanent.
Categories:
papoose, history, native american, social,
Form:
Rhyme
If I were an angel, I'd grant
the Asian infant freedom
and a halcyon wind,
infuse the Native American
papoose with ancestral pride,
give the African baby nuru,
the light of understanding,
a potent shield in a harsh world,
and bring the Hispanic infante
respect and peace of heart.
If I were an angel, I'd kiss
[with my eyes] the Jewish babe
whose soul from heaven knows
all things* and efface memory,
visit the Caucasian at birth
with the gift of grace
and a sense of moral reason
which comes only from God,
and to all the rest—newly born—
the wisdom of Solomon
and literary promise,
that the brotherhood of man
might match
the balance of nature.
*This belief requires the babe’s
memory be erased at birth.
Categories:
papoose, angel, baby, birth,
Form:
Free verse
only me to take a wok of sauté or call it a walk
the streets of brooklyn very silent I made sure
left right two feet and a foot up my ass
but two hands do the talking of a name
every one call me when they see such piercing
I left my beau and arrow with papoose in a taxi
of yellow or green and hubber anon a mouse
the middle finger say thank you for the smoke
Categories:
papoose, age,
Form:
Acrostic
A vision legendary among Native Americans...
glimpse her in your mind’s eye
young Shoshone woman
with a papoose on her back
stands on a precipice
surveying the wild panorama
Her presence treasured by these explorers
she who guides them across the west
human drama wraps around
Sacagawea-- destined to survive
in her people’s imaginations
so enigmatic, simple, safe
Envision this mysterious legend--
a female, intelligent, pregnant
walking along the Yellowstone River
looking as if a native princess
translating to the tribes
fearlessly saving the expedition
To notable explorers Lewis and Clark
Sacagawea is survival
Captain Clark calls her “Janey”
how he values her acumen
If you listen, you can hear her...
in the wind she whispers,
"Everything I do is for my people."
watch her walk into the misty morning
pursuing the future
Categories:
papoose, appreciation, native american, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
roast beef (rare) had looks beyond compare
his face was rosy and blush
without a trace of stubble or gristle
he was suave and clean
a beef lovers dream
hard and lean a macho machine
gleaming
dreaming
scheming of a way to seduce Phyllis Filet
roast beef (rare) met Phyllis filet on a gray day
the were standing in line at the slaughterhouse gate
small talking
awaiting their fate
as the inched their way closer to endeavor the cleaver
they felt so much lust they were encrusted in fever
burning to escape the date of their fate
they devised a plan
a slaughterhouse scam
they executed the plan with lightning force
Phyllis wiggled over and started flirting with a horse
she glowed
her words flowed as she took him for a ride
roast beef (rare) felt a swelling of pride
he knew when Phyllis caressed the horses tail
that there'd be no way that their plan could ever fail
that they'd soon be romping in greener pastures
both of them getting just what they were after
they flung on a fling
high
low
every which way but loose
Phyllis the poor dear conceived a papoose
a bouncing baby beef to be or not to be
that was her dilemma
after she found out that roast beef (rare) was infested with salmonella
Categories:
papoose, humorous, satire, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
A porcupine, when threatened, will
Let loose upon his foe a quill
Or actually, I have a hunch
That he’d release a giant bunch.
I always knew about that use
But never knew that a papoose
Could find what every baby needs
Where quills are used instead of beads.
Yes, cradleboards and moccasins
And shirts or cloaks made out of skins
Were gussied up with filed-down quills
By Indians with awesome skills.
A new exhibit at the Met*
Has beadwork that I won’t forget
By Natives living on the Plains
Where porcupines shared their domains.
Or that is what I must assume
For every ornament and plume
They used to sew with (all by hand)
Was found nearby on native land.
That’s how it was in times gone by;
The local life could satisfy.
Those Indians, now mostly gone,
Today’d rely on Amazon!
*Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC
Categories:
papoose, native american,
Form:
Rhyme
There was a great Chief named Many Papoose,
Who with many brave's squaws played fast 'n' loose!
When in battle the Chief died,
The Chief's tribe was well supplied,
With many papoose since he was profuse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories:
papoose, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
A Short Indian Tale
I look out of my window
As my leaves blow across the lawn
Some go into my neighbors yard
I laugh, lean back and yawn.
We seem to be now having
An extended Indian summer
Dec 4 with local temps
Mid 60’s now they hover
But that brought to mind
Our recent Thanksgivings day
And the sturdy Indians bucks
Some say came that day
They couldn’t have been all grown
Nor wearing a big head-dress
There would have been some ladies
Dressed proudly in a doeskin dress
Strapped upon their sturdy backs
A youngster safe and sound
His tan cheeks and tiny eyes
Just looking all around.
This lead me to a tale
Of a young papoose buck
Who lived a privileged life
With almost daily luck
But yet at times
Things may not work
Sometimes there’s just
Some silly quirk.
A warm, herbal beverage
As he went to sleep
Settled him down
Without a peep.
He went to bed
In his mom’s wig-wam
But woke some mornings
In his own “tea-pee”. :o(
Written by oldbuck Dec. 4, 2017
as a change of pace from all the Holiday themes
Categories:
papoose, boy, child, fantasy, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
'Tis fascinating to read epitaphs that upon stones are etched;
Some are rather appealing, some are tragic, others a bit far-fetched!
'Neath this stone lie at peace a husband and his wife
She a Republican-He a Democrat-both now free of strife
Here rests Bruno Snipes the founder of our fair city
He slipped on a banana peel and died-Oh what a pity
Lion trainer Dave was brave and famed
'Til he met Leo who refused to be tamed
Uncle Bob died so young and we wondered why
Seems he tried to drink Canada Dry
The plane's controls Pilot Horace failed to recoup
Alas he spun out doing a double outside loop
Cowpoke Hank should've known as a matter of course
That it was futile to borrow a judge's horse
Here sleeps Senator Claghorn the wiliest politico around
He was so crooked they screwed him in the ground
Here lies the prolific Chief Many Papoose
Who with brave's wives played fancy and loose
She met her doom as over the cliff she did traverse
Instead of shifting to drive she shifted to reverse
Cowboy Pete was so bow-legged from riding his horse
That he lies in a double-wide coffin as a matter of course
Categories:
papoose, death, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
His warriors called him Chief Randy Moose
Since with young maidens he played fast and loose
He was very prolific
His stamina terrific
He enlarged his tribe with many papoose
Categories:
papoose, humorous, native american,
Form:
Limerick
Just a big overgrown kid, my Bruce
Wanting to hit the road and vamoose
Dreams of conducting a caboose
Go all the way up to Toulouse
Bruce refuses to grow up, what’s the use
He can rhyme off one of many old excuse
And sometimes swears to All and to Zeus
Bruce wasn’t always this way, something came loose
He’s become simple yet ever so abstruse
Can’t differentiate a moose from a goose
Doesn’t have a clue what to do with his papoose
The best we could do was come to a truce
Now they both get an afternoon nap after their juice
Sometimes I feel like a recluse
But never a victim of abuse
Or that life dealt me a deuce
When Bruce smiles he can still seduce
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on March 17, 2018
Categories:
papoose, caregiving, change, dedication, family,
Form:
Monorhyme
sleepy papoose
nunavut eskimo baby
tucked in mama's hood
posted on September 4, 2018
Categories:
papoose, baby, home,
Form:
Senryu