Long Inuit Poems
Long Inuit Poems. Below are the most popular long Inuit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Inuit poems by poem length and keyword.
There are many things that make me happy in life,
But a day when I can go to the art gallery is the best;
I walk the many galleries, totally lost and delighted with the art,
From room to room, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, 18th Century;
The bright religious paintings of the Gothic era, the mythical painting of Renaissance.
I could dwell there forever, for art is life, a story painted,
And then I rest, perhaps a bit of lunch, then I begin again;
19th Century, 20th Century, and a quick visit to Impressionism,
A peek at Abstract (not my favorite) nor is Modern Art, but I view;
And in my gallery, because I am in Canada, there is the Canadian art, amazing.
And then the Aboriginal Art and the Inuit Art of Canada,
That is always very moving and beautiful to linger over;
Then after yet another rest, I go to the Water Court and Garden,
In the very heart of the gallery there is a reconstructed church;
Well as you can tell, a day at the art gallery for me is blissful with happiness.
For me art is part of life, painted of life, it tells a story of life,
and it brings me utter happiness that lingers for days and days.
______________________________
April 14, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Lost in Art
Copyright Protected, ID 16-777-976-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, What Makes You Happy
sponsor, Royal Ninja
Fifth Place
_____________________________________
Written for the contest, Happiness of Life,
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negren
Second Place
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were a far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun.
When not out clubbing
hey-ho the merry oh
at night with the Inuit
I suspect by intuit
an intrepid Inuk named Nanook
a-hunting walrus he would go
with his trusty harpoon
traipsing 'cross the ice and snow
then when paddling afloat he went
in the harsh Arctic environment
to keep out the bitter cold and damp
in the very bottom of his boat
there was a fiery seal oil lamp
which eventually burned a hole
and without trace into oblivion he sank
with nothing to mark the place
in those deep dark blue depths so dank
even so who can ever forget
this tall tale chilling yet true
as his demise to the pithy proverb gave rise
'You can't have your kayak and heat it too'
I remember like it was yesterday
but it was years ago and another lifetime ago
that I fell in love with a man
it was a love that could never grow
could never be
I was working for the Government of Canada
for Health and Welfare
and was sent way up north as part of a group
to see the conditions in isolated villages and towns
we were given wilderness guides
because it was not like you could just take a car
to get there
one was called Claude he spoke the language
of the Inuit and was our translator
this was his life and he seemed to love the snow wilderness
I spoke a lot with him
and overtime we became friends and of course
I was falling in love and he loved me too
we set sail on an ocean of snow white love
one night he invited me to his cabin in the woods
I lost myself in a place of a thousand trees
and in front of a blazing fire we found paradise
my hair a flowing dark river streaming
his voice music for my soul
we knew that our love was doomed
there was no promise between us
for I would be leaving for the civilization soon
back to the city life that I loved
I could never see myself in this isolated place
and I knew he did not belong in a city
so we enjoyed our nights as star-crossed lovers
dreading the end but knowing it was soon
and the drums of time rolled
we both decided that our love would end when I left
there would be no long distance romance
no letters and no communication ever
we would become shadows on the wall of time
I would never see him again
when that day came it was so hard
I left by a small aircraft it was not like there was an airport
looking out the window
my eyes swelled with tears
he waved goodbye to me and turned away
as clouds sailed across the snowy sky
and that is the last time I saw him
love is a guest that comes unbidden at times
yet, I find a sweetness amid the dregs of the past
where memories of him shake the ocean of my sleep
and I know that I will never forget him, never
for I keep him in a secret place within my heart
he will always be that young northern wilderness guide
with the beautiful voice and smile
even when I am withered old
The grass "dewed" in spring’s early morning shimmer
Upon a crocus lay an "alula" in the sun with a glimmer
A symbol of many flights on every "level" there is to be
Whether it be "solos" or those together, feeling free
Often at "noon" Robin hop across the sunny land
Their "stots" fun to watch, then so still they do stand
Summer brings the "pop" of fireworks in the sky to see
Hummingbirds, "kayak", cookouts and bumble bee
Fall for me can sometimes bring on a "doom mood"
As fun summer "sagas" end, squirrels scramble for food
Winter looms but "live not evil", for there is Christmas "Eve"
Followed by Christmas, a "tenet" most important to believe
Heidi Sands
9/26/18
*Placed 2nd in Palindromes 2 Contest.
One palindrome for each sentence.(oops one sentence has 2) Difficulty getting the bold to work for the words.
Dewed - Past tense verb of wet
Alula - Broken bird's wing
Level - Horizontal plane above or below given point
Solos - Plural for one singular person
Noon - Midday
Stots - Bounces
Pop - Explosive sound
Kayak - Canoe of a type used originally by the Inuit, made of light frame
Doom Mood - Feeling of things going badly or to get worse
Sagas - Long stories of achievement
Live Not on Evil - Choice not to live evil
Eve - Period of time immediately before an event
Tenet - Principle of belief, especially one of the main principles of religion
From sea to sea our voices rise,
Beneath the wide and open skies.
On Canada, this first of July,
We lift our hearts and spirits high.
The Rockies wear their crowns of snow,
Where crystal streams and rivers flow.
The prairies wave in fields of gold,
A timeless beauty to behold.
The forests whisper, deep and green,
The grandest sights we've ever seen.
The maple's leaves in scarlet blaze,
Bring warmth to cool autumnal days.
The northern lights in silence dance,
As moonlit waters gently glance.
From Arctic shores to ocean blue,
Each mile reveals a wondrous view.
Before our nation's course was drawn,
Indigenous peoples greeted dawn.
With wisdom earned through countless years,
They faced the seasons without fears.
The First Nations cared for every tree,
Each mountain, river, lake, and sea.
The Inuit stood both proud and strong,
Where northern nights are dark and long.
The Métis helped to shape this land,
With faithful heart and willing hand.
Their stories live in every place,
A treasured part of Canada's grace.
The dreamers came from far away,
To build a brighter, better day.
They crossed the seas with hope anew,
And built this nation, strong and true.
The railway stretched from shore to shore,
Connecting neighbours evermore.
With every spike and iron rail,
They proved that courage would prevail.
Our farmers tilled the fertile ground,
Where rich abundance still is found.
Our fishers braved the restless tide,
With strength and faith their constant guide.
Our builders raised each town with care,
Creating homes for all to share.
Our teachers, healers, artists too,
Helped paint the future into view.
Our soldiers answered duty's call,
With steadfast hearts they gave their all.
Their sacrifice we still revere,
Remembered every passing year.
Though history has both joy and pain,
We strive to learn and grow again.
With open hearts and hopeful eyes,
A stronger nation we shall rise.
So let the maple proudly fly,
Beneath this bright July first sky.
With grateful hearts we proudly say,
"Happy Canada Day!"
May peace endure from shore to shore,
May kindness lead forevermore.
With every sunrise yet to be,
May hope define our destiny.
Here's to the mountains standing tall,
The rivers, forests, one and all.
To every voice both old and new—
Happy Birthday, Canada, to you!
We the People
Will disagree
On taxation and prosperity
On liberty and duty
We the People
Are every color of Christianity
Every Jewish prayer, every song of Islam
The puritans, the atheists and the Amish
Are neighbors here
We the People
Are Jamaican and Japanese
Swedish and Samoan
Cuban and Cherokee
Moroccan and Mexican
The Irish and the Inuit
And all shades of Africa
We are country hills and cityscapes
Suburban parks and downtown fire escapes
We are singers and stutterers
Daredevils and diplomats
Renegades and redeemers
The leaders and the lone wolves
The suits and the sarongs
We are the gun owners for gun control
The justice for unjust loopholes
We are the hands that struck the iron
And the backs that laid the tracks
Of trails of rails connecting
Sea to shining Sea
We are protesters and poets
The soldiers without peace
The nurses without sleep
We are the straight arrows and the skeptics
The gay and the god-fearing
We are Black Lives Matter
And we are the badges in blue
We the People
Are complicit and complicated
No freedom gave
To chains of slaves
We have conquered and colonized
Sacrificed and stolen
Pillaged and planted
To naturalize a nation
We are teachers of tenacity
Prophicies of pioneers
And the children of second chances
We the People
Speak for our land’s legacy
In every tongue, from every rung
On each stumbled stair, each crumbled chair
We demand democracy.
8/21/20
Poem of the Day
August 23, 2020
Deep rooted symbol in the Inuit culture, the inukshuk is rudimentary, primitive but effective communication. Through centuries, it is still a practical directional marker used as vital hunting and navigation aids, coordination points, indicators, and message centers.
remote voice
shattering the silence
of hesitation
Published in my photo/haibun anthologies ~PRIMITIVE~ 2019 and ~ANCESTRAL VOICES~ 2019
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Embodying the human spirit, the inukshuk can serve as a spiritual symbol, a ceremonial site, a place of worship, a place of judgment and decision making or a site to gather and celebrate. Regardless of their function, inuksuit are venerated by the Inuit for their history and ancestral value.
sacred touchstone
hub of present and
generations past
Published in my photo/haibun anthologies ~PRIMITIVE~ 2019 and ~ANCESTRAL VOICES~ 2019
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were are far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun
.
The True American.