Long Eagles Poems
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My people the Ojibwa are fierce and strong. A people of stories, myths and
knowledge. On birch bark scrolls and stones their history is told. And I,
a mere Ojibwa girl writes stories. The early Canadian explorers wrote of
our fierce warriors. "Strong arms held bows, arrows and clubs, their bodies
tattooed in various fashion and design, faces painted and noses pierced."
Eventually they stole our land, so I fight for the rights of my people.
I tell my stories
keeping the warriors alive -
their strength and spirit
And there upon a sheer and rocky cliff a black stallion stands majestic under a
blazing sun. My Ojibwa warrior looks at me with great love. In the air and wind
that roars, his feathers earned in acts of bravery flutter. I am nestled within his
strong arms. My turquoise and glass beaded dress sparkles in the sun. Far below
the Ottawa River thunders. The vast lands of Canada stretch to the horizon. Up
above in the azure, many eagles soar, as a symbol of Ojibwa unity. The Spirit
Fathers approve of this love. And in this dreamy dream the imagination of this
Ojibwa girl moves his majestic feathers. The beauty will never fade in stories.
wild water echoes
of land as far as the eye -
and tribes brave and fierce
___________________________
May 1, 2015
Poetry/Haibun/An Ojibwe Girl - My Spirit
Copyright Protected, ID 05-668-447-01
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Submitted to the Stndar contest, Show Me Your Spirit,
sponsor, FJ Thomas, HM, Judged 2015
Allocation, O ally?
Resources put where?
In the heads of those who fly?
Worry, hast thou care?
O ye spirits, I collect!
End Times, be my Muse!
Golden gods to genuflect?
Dare to disabuse!
Wrath of wind, thy cyclone?
It really must blow in.
Heaven and Hell, hie to hone!
Drenching downpour, din!
Ramparts of old castle?
They're slippery when wet.
Gods of death, call thy vassal!
How could we forget?
Tomb of ancient pharaoh?
A curse is on the door.
Folly thus to enter? Go?
Doom, thy pinafore!
Mercenary armies!
Become, O lords of hell!
Storm from thy cemeteries!
Legions, lead thee well!
Soar, O mighty eagles!
O parapets, take heed:
Fate and Fortune, full the fools!
Grind them in their greed!
Ache in heart of bygone race?
Lulled within thy chase.
Dithering is thy disgrace!
Seize the skin of face...
The American eagles left their warm nests
before snow fell on the evergreen pines and spruces,
so did the ravens, grackles and petrels...
hidden among the white mountains, the river still flows.
So peaceful, so cold is this winter afternoon,
no other sound but the waters babbling on rocks,
flowing into the wide valley below without a tune...
two months ago, the placid lake swarmed with ducks.
Footprints are visible into the frozen snow that no one loves...
who would venture in this life-threatening wilderness?
Could it be a grizzling gone astray, or searching for his cubs?
Leave it to the imagination, or simply take a guess!
So peaceful, so cold is this winter afternoon,
and the more I look, the less I think of danger...
I would love to get out and discover it like the slow-moving raccoon
seeking food until he shivers and decides to turn back with anger.
On the wind's current,
face-swept and braving fret;
I push forward...facing a tough day,
never fainthearted: merrily drifting away!
I challenge my strength,
to fuse more enthusiasm;
to beat the puzzled clouds with ingenuity,
and they, frustrated, initiate a plot against me!
I laugh, making them infuriated,
and they respond with stronger blows;
thinking they can't be imitated!
Don't they know that I watch all their moves?
Call me a marine or a sky-diver,
I may not look too convincing for a liar;
the open sky lets me on the wind's current,
lifting me off the earth to deliver my stunt!
Where are my rivals? Are they hiding or
planning my imminent defeat?
I may be too naive to cheat,
but I am as swift as a hunting panther!
On the wind's current so rough,
aware and attentive, I make my living;
chasing the fearless eagles with a bluff,
vulnerable...yes, but unafraid and willing!
Copyright by Andrew Crisci
Down by the reservoir of dreams
Waters reflect subconscious streams
The lake’s mirror a mosaic
Wishful well versed and prosaic
Droplets of pain dissolve on touch
Always to soothe never to judge
Up in the sky eagles hold sway
Kindle sweet lullaby’s soiree
Send prayers for tomorrow’s prey
Tuck their wingspan and portray
Freedom bold faith and clear vision
Succinct guidance and precision
Blind underground earthworms dig deep
Sift soil blindfolded into a heap
Caress compost while they quietly roam
Embrace their mission to turn over loam
A labyrinth of tunnels and passage
An amazing maze and direct message
Just the like the waterfall and the kestrel
The little creeper points to orchestral
Symbiosis which we should protect
Treat nature and planet with due respect
Often though we are quite spineless creatures
As birds and invertebrates teach us
1st May 2020
Amidst the woods and fields so green,
Nature's beauty can be seen.
From the chirping birds in the trees,
To the buzzing bees and gentle breeze.
The flowers bloom in rainbow hues,
And the leaves rustle with morning dews.
The sun shines bright and warms the land,
While the moon and stars glow on command.
The rivers flow with gentle grace,
And the oceans roar with a fierce embrace.
Mountains tower high in the sky,
And valleys dip low, where rivers run by.
Wildlife roams free in the land,
With beauty and grace at their command.
Deer that dart, and rabbits that hop,
And majestic eagles that soar and stop.
Nature's cycles, a wondrous sight,
From dawn's first light to the end of night.
From birth and growth, to age and decay,
It's a magnificent display day by day.
So let us cherish nature's gifts,
And protect it from harm and rifts.
For it is a treasure to behold,
A legacy worth preserving for all to behold.
To read, perchance to dream,
To run through woodlands fresh and new,
The grass an emerald green,
To allow the words to draw me in,
As they describe the scene.
To see and feel as the poet feels,
To see and live the glory,
To be a part of everything,
To be within the story,
Of mighty battles lost and won,
Engrossed in a pot-pourri,
Of wonderful description,
Of freedom, love and life,
Words of passion, love or hate,
That cut just like a knife.
Words to take me far away,
To soar on eagles wings,
Or search for treasure yet unseen,
Or hear the angels sing.
To read, re-read and read again,
To feel it, taste it all.
Experience the stuff of dreams,
Adventure gives it's call.
Judy Ball
For Put Yourself In The Reader's Shoes Contest by Judy Konos
WAIT, I SAY, ON THE LORD
How difficult 'tis for us to obey,
To possess unfailing hope and patience,
To wait on the Lord, let Him be our stay,
To trust in the Lord God of all nations,
To look unto Him in our temptations,
To wait upon Him amidst frustrations;
Blessed is everyone that waits on the Lord,
It is good for them to quietly hope,
They will fly like eagles with strength restored,
They will run, they'll walk, neither faint nor mope,
They'll be glad, with troubles and trials cope,
Led by the Lord, in His truth, they'll have scope;
None that wait on the Lord will be ashamed,
He will incline to them and hear their cry,
He will strengthen them as His Word proclaimed,
He'll have mercy, His love He won't deny,
Their salvation, on them He has His eye,
He'll guard them, with all good things satisfy;
Whatever our needs, whatever our state,
He is our Lord, on Him let's learn to wait.
04/11/2019
Contest: Urban Sonnet
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Black Hotel
Immortal fear,
blind rage appears on black rock…
How does it rise along on a lonely beach?
…an outcrop of the night!
A black hotel looms like inevitable doom
from the cloudy regions of the stratosphere.
It rises starkly against a crimson sky
unbroken vertical fields fade to a bloody gloom!
A black house shall rock,
immortal fears shall rule,
blind boys will talk
of infinite jest and the crones will cry unto your sisters…
The black hotel will reign…
On a dark deserted highway along an infinite beach…
Cooling wind with ice in its entrails
…cresses onyx hair.
Up ahead in the diminishing distance,
in shimmering heat waves of night
a lonely light of a black hotel.
A head grows heavy
as sight grows dim
stopping for the night…
Feeling the tic of a cooling engine.
Its headlights die...
...fade along a lonely stretch
of beach an outcrop of night
a black hotel looms like inevitable doom
with rambling endless rooms!
from the cloudy regions of the stratosphere
it stands starkly against a crimson sky.
A Black Hotel.
Something in the doorway;
There are vacant voices echoing in distant corridors,
Deep in a labyrinthine hell.
A Black Hotel!
As a Californian highway stretching uncharted
into the night, a mirror of once was...
feeling the gravity wells...
Welcome to this; The Black Hotel!
Ode to Eagles when they fly as Lost Boys walk.
sometimes we wake
and cant see the view
then realize i guess it was not you
if only i saw the same as you
i guess then
id see the view
pushing through the fog
i get to the edge
only to discover and tree lined ledge
obscured my view
i must push through
only then i will find my true
trees they part
as my heart does start
i see the view
and my love is new
dive off the cliff, not scared to live
i soar with the eagles
i am true of my words
for now i know the view is mine
i own this land
i am one of a kind
my eyes wide open, i see it all
there is know reason to ever fall
i see the the view.