Best Red Man Poems
American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf
Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!
Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'.
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.
R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...
Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.
Categories:
red man, art, conflict, death, history,
Form:
Verse
--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 of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim
Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names.
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl,
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,
Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman,
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero,
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas tricked and captured,
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over,
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands
Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before the princess,
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands
by;PD
Categories:
red man, adventure, girl, life, native
Form:
Ballad
Grandpa
a kind face
skin leathery and creased from years of working in the sun
long jowls like a basset hounds
sad droplet eyes
always a slight aroma of beer
brown wrinkled callous palms
dirt-stained fingernails were evidence of an old man’s toil
a blue plaid shirt now ashen from wear
a tall man
always unshaven with scrapes of gray hair that would scratch you un-mercifully if he asked for a hug
he walked with shoulders hung and bowed over as if broken
that of a man who had known the burdens of inequality all his life
the kindness in his eyes reflected a graceful acceptance of his fate
his tears masked a rage and unforgiveness for the destiny of his children
late afternoons he would sit out yonder under a huge black gum tree
a blackened wood briar pipe a pack of red man chewing tobacco and a can of snuff beside him
one jaw always popped out as the tobacco had to sit just long enough before it was time to spit
he would sit in that shaded spot for hours on end
up till sunset most days
always staring intently at something out there
was it memories from his past
or perhaps the dreams of a past that someone stole
eventually, grandma would call out to him
Henry where you be?
he would always reply
after awhile
I’m just there…
I never understood what that meant before
Until now
Categories:
red man, grandfather, grandmother, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Moonshine, diesel fumes, and chicken wire.
Laundry hangin’ on the line.
Bible open to the Book of Job.
Backyard thick with prickly pine.
Jacket pocket full of Red Man dip.
Work boots laced with leather thongs.
Wedding portrait on the mantel piece.
Shotgun right where it belongs.
Kettle simmers on a cast iron stove.
Faucet’s drippin’ in the sink.
Matchbook underneath the table leg,
Teacup teeters on the brink.
Cobwebs draped across a window screen.
Horseshoe nailed above a door.
Things calmed down some since the weather broke.
Same sad silence as before.
Ma’s been servin’ up the buttermilk,
Boiled potatoes in a bowl.
Pa starts eatin’ while she’s sayin’ grace.
Lets her worry ‘bout his soul.
Man might say he be a slave to love.
Women make the same complaint.
Neither really know the meaning of
What it is and what it ain’t.
Categories:
red man, allegory, marriage,
Form:
Lyric
Long before the ships arrived
Bringing European man,
America’s native people
Dwelt here and loved this land.
Great Spirit was the name they had
For the God that nurtured them,
They asked his blessings invoked his name
And sent their dead to him.
They organized in time of need
To give them strength of numbers,
Co-operation between the tribes
Often numbered in the hundreds.
The concept of nations was known to them
And today you can see it still,
As the bundle of arrows in the Eagle’s claw
On our country's dollar bills.
Their numbers greatly were reduced
By foreign plagues they couldn’t fight.
Then they got a bitter taste
Of the white man’s technical might.
Tribes died in droves as they fiercely strove
To hold on to their land,
But courage and pride could not decide
The battle for the doomed red man.
Exile or slaughter was their only choice
In this unequal test of wills,
Lush river camp and forest home
Became rocky barren hills.
Today they languish on reservations
Where life is often bleak,
But some do not accept despair
Their pride they vow to keep.
From a tortured past they have emerged,
And are proud to teach their young
Who they are and what it’s like
To speak their native tongue.
They haven’t lost all their history
Enough survives today
To see themselves as a people again,
And put their culture on display.
A nation healing and on the ascent
With reason to be proud,
As they don their dancing finery
And show it to the crowd
Then you should see them dance !
My stars it’s quite a sight,
When they start to whoop and holler
Your hair stands up in fright.
Yes the tribes are back and I am glad
We didn’t wipe them out,
These original Americans
Still have much to be proud about.
Categories:
red man, native americanpride,
Form:
Quatrain
Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same Dirt,
(Tribute to Philip Freneau and his poem,
The Dying Indian)
Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same Dirt
I welcome you- sweet dawn, soft break of day
As your vibrant voice sounds, seeming to say
Lad, I bid you relief from dark and gray
Feel my coming golden rays and rejoice
So precious life's gift, giving love free voice
Embrace your honor, honor that wise choice-
You are of braver heart, red is your blood
You are red-man, Native pride your soul floods
You hunt ancestral lands, wade tidal muds,
There amidst tall trees, beauty of the glades
You young lad are of pure Native blood made
Spirit must stay strong, as your time soon fades
In dreams, you sail to paradise isles
You race through countryside for miles and miles
Live, soon your tribes will become sad exiles-
As you dare the great beast to your soul fight
Search mysteries that hide truth out of sight
Know that same hungry beast, will your race smite!
Alas! Fate's wicked hands, its evil sends.
Stopping mercy, from which Heaven descends.
I beg mother earth, this carnage avert
Heal dark souls of men, stop such coming hurts
Are we not brothers, made from the same dirt
Do we all not cry, the same red blood bleed
Are we all not sprung from weak mortal seeds
In pain, do we not, to same Father plead-
Will violence and death, your greed absolve
Can we seek to, our differences resolve
Must destruction serve as means to evolve,
Is what will be gained, a treasure to you
Shall we learn to love, same sky's glowing blues
Share life's sweet gems, paying brotherly dues
Walk lit paths, love flowering meadows too-
Live serving peace and discover anew
Enjoy a rainbow's hope, its many hues?
Alas! Fate's wicked hands, its evil sends.
Stopping mercy, from which Heaven descends.
Robert J. Lindley, 9-07-2020
Rhyme, ( Written for new blog-- a blog not posted yet )
Categories:
red man, appreciation, conflict, dedication, history,
Form:
Rhyme
Constitution says All men are created equal
We live in the home of the brave
But we annihilated the Red man
And made the black man a slave
We imprisoned the Yellow man
And judged the poor and the gay
Only a rich straight white Christian
Can be a free man today
We thirsted for power, now isn't it odd
We raped, pillaged and plundered in the Name of God
We committed crimes time will never erase
Then thumped a Bible in your face
We sin compulsively assuming God will forgive it
Then preach Christianity but we never live it
We formed a bigoted society where hate is the rule
If we accept others as Equals we call our own a fool
We sit in judgement of others, I guess we forgot
This isn't the way that Jesus taught
I'm a straight white Christian so maybe I'll fall
But I'll die believing God created us all
So when I read the Bible and God's Children I see
I'll never assume it's only children like me.
I no longer listen to your bigoted view.
Equality for all, not just people like you.
Equality means Equality and Bigotry is Bigotry
Jesus said "Love Thy Neighbor" NO DESCRIPTIVE ADJECTIVE.
Categories:
red man, christian, hate, social, usa,
Form:
Rhyme
They came with a Bible in their hands;
To pilage and steal sacred lands.
It wasn't enough to claim our ancestor's graves;
They also had to make us their slaves.
They teach that the pilgrims and Indians were friends:
But, in all honesty, that's when the Holocaust begins.
Burning our villages to the ground;
Killing any and all survivors that could be found.
Small pox blankets and rotted horse meat
Juan de Oñate cutting off our feet.
Our scalps taken for a bounty man's price;
Preferably from warriors but a child's would suffice.
Drive us out on a trail of death;
Auction off whatever we left.
Manifest Destiny and forced assimilation;
For us there was no Emancipation Proclamation.
Kidnapping children for missionary schools;
Beatings and starvation for breaking their rules.
Saying it was for our own benefit;
We should be grateful for what little we get.
They saw us as savages, heathens, and beasts;
Of all the races we were considered the least.
Still today they only see us as a spaghetti western;
So to them, I have but one question:
Upon their death when they return to the sky;
And they must look their Creator in the eyes.
What on Earth will they say and do;
When they realize that he is a red man too?
Categories:
red man, abuse, america, creation, discrimination,
Form:
When that jolly red man with a sack
brings your wishes to you off the rack,
no late Christmas night
for first frosty light,
warm the car up and take it all back.
Categories:
red man, life
Form:
Limerick
( This is a fictional write)
I was a short skinny seven year old boy growing in a town
Believed in fantasies of scary boogie to jolly old red man.
When dad took to see Santa, was worried about naughty list.
On Christmas Eve I went to bed early full with excitement.
Then heard a strange sound coming from the living room
Saw parents carrying toys placing them under the tree.
Returned to bed and where I silently cried myself to sleep.
As if was not enough heard the voices of parents fighting.
Saw Christmas tree torn, toys scattered and dad leaving.
Felt rejection, loneliness, physical and emotional abuse
It was awful and bitterly engrained still in my memory.
When the troubles come, come not single but in battalion.
===============================================
Sixth place win in:
Contest: My darkest childhood Memory sponsored by Walayee Whitlock
Categories:
red man, christmas, dad, old, parents,
Form:
Free verse
Colours
A passionate Red Man, in this cold, cruel, blue world,
stands, – one eighth blood in his veins, that doth swirl –
on his own, watching black prejudice all around, unfurl,
permeating every fiber, every grain of his marrow
that lay within the heart of the bones, the soul of this Red Man,
from the time the Europeans, the white man stole his land.
They coned, they pillaged, they raped, they stole with deaths hand.
The world they knew, gone, horror left, nothing but black !
Nothing the white man can do will ever bring it back !
The spirt , the soul, the heart and dignity,
all lost – for most - in the raging sea,
of the white mans greed
to satisfy his need.
B. J. “A” 2
March 27th 2004
Categories:
red man, racism, prejudice,
Form:
Rhyme
Enemies of love, pride and injustice
The actions of the benevolent unnoticed
Omnipotent powers
Spark the cigarette that blinds your eyes
The smoke that hugs your nose, and penetrates your clothes
Grey streaks on rose-colored dyes
The red man that guides your actions,
Is the same man you look at in the mirror
Childish ambitions, oh cute superstitions
Ego of a scapegoat, the nightmares of gloat
The pirates of humanity afloat with no fear
They mime the tale of those who seek
The money in banks and the water of the creek
Their enemies brandish guns, cars and jewelry
Brownish tones of indifference
The Robin Hood mentality of selfishness
The human condition overlooked,
Suffering is malignant
The cancer spreads to the lungs of the desperate
Shooters of chemicals and perverts splattered in blood
Shrewd victims of consequences
Flooded in waste, the barriers of insecurity
Robbing our children of their eloquent innocence
Categories:
red man, addiction, allusion, anger, angst,
Form:
Free verse
Riding bareback ‘cross the wide plains
Brave Geronimo in his deep pain
Makes his pathway, looking forward
Never losing faith in fortune
To the far off land Dakota
Where he will seek for an answer
To the question that pursues him:
How and why and where he came from.
Warrior, peace man, loving life
Through this world’s unending strife
Boldly, lonely, empty-hearted
Seeking out the place he started,
Gripped and held in life’s deep wonder
Hearing only endless thunder.
‘Cross the wide, dark Gitchigumi
Named and famed by the Ojibwe
Through the lands of the Navajo
Apache, Cherokee and Sioux
On and on he journeys fiercely
Never pausing, never fal’tring
Prowling through his mind’s great vastness:
Infinite, eternal, endless:
Here he seeks to cease pretending
That he knows his life’s true meaning.
Without guide, without companion
Through forests wide and darkest canyon
Holding fast his faith in meaning,
Hope and purpose to his dreaming
Of his love at home awaiting
His return with light enlightened.
Categories:
red man, hope, howl, love, love
Form:
Lyric
Red and hairy
Brown eyed and wistful
Long lanky arms
That swing from tree to tree
Sweet gentle red man
Of Borneo forests
The greedy have taken
Away your home
Your forests, your food, your memories
Your families - now fading into history’s mist
They have sold you to Cesar and forgot
God made you
©? Brenda V northeast 6th January 2012
Categories:
red man, nature,
Form:
On arrival in the American Outback I was warned.
“ Beware of the red man.”
“ He is a lazy drunk.”
“A dishonest gambler.”
“And makes an unworthy neighbor.”
In the late summer heat of a state fair,
I discovered an expansive white tent.
A native greeted me with respect at the entrance.
He granted my children each a small gift,
and invited us to watch a performance.
I warily seated my family on folding chairs.
The floor beneath us piled with fresh straw.
A handful of locals drifted in from distracted crowds.
The din of the tractor pulls, cattle auctions,
and singing celebrity impersonators carried under canvas.
Moccasins ushered in a distinctive young woman,
wearing a deer skin vest fringed with tiny beads,
an outfit untouched by machine.
Her long black hair brushed to a single braid,
hung perfectly on her proud back.
She summoned a hand carved wooden flute
from her pack, and lifted the object to trained lips.
Slow, haunting notes ran together without seam,
falling like dry, colorless leaves upon sacred ground.
The tone, somber yet peaceful, filled the still air.
A conveyance of subjugated emotion sprung forth,
from a language untranslated yet comprehended.
The sorrows of centuries washed into my blood.
No longer did I sit at a common fair.
The melancholy song of the native maiden had transported all.
The seeds of iniquity, spread by the winds of fear,
washed from my being. Mystically cleansed,
by music from a pure source.
This native woman had cast a spell.
The prison of ignorance crumbled before me.
Categories:
red man, native american
Form:
Narrative