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:
doeskin, boy, child, fantasy, nonsense,
Form: Rhyme
Singing softly,
Someone stretched love's rhythmic,
Unrestrained, undulating laughter,
Returning disappearing doeskin dreams
To the stormy sea.
Cynthia
Categories:
doeskin, life,
Form: Free verse
Maid of the Mist
Living on the mighty Niagara,
the Ongiaras dwelled in peace
but the village members were perishing
at the will of an unknown beast
They gathered fruits and fresh killed game,
and sacrificed to the God of Thunder
but all was refused so a maiden was chosen
to calm this raging wonder.
Lovely Lelawala the chiefs only child,
her hair wrapped in baby’s breath,
in a doeskin robe she stood at the falls
plunged in and fell to her death
The Thunder Gods’ son caught the maiden
and awestruck by her charm,
she promised she’d give herself to him
if he’d save her people from harm.
He told her a tale of a giant snake,
that lived in the river bed,
it poisoned the Indian village at night
and then devoured the dead.
So the Indian brave killed the serpent
and Lelawala promised to care
and always protect the raging falls
and all who ventured there..
Chandeliers of water cascading down
in it‘s splendor, harbors this,
the spirit of lovely Lelawala
Niagara Falls “Maid of the Mist”.
Categories:
doeskin, history
Form: Rhyme