Long Ojibwa Poems
Long Ojibwa Poems. Below are the most popular long Ojibwa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ojibwa poems by poem length and keyword.
Something Old
April 29, 2016
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
There, high upon a sheer jagged, rocky cliff,
an appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic;
there, under a blazing azure sky above,
an Ojibwa girl looks at the beautiful land of Canada.
There, in that mighty wind that roars and howls,
eagle feathers in my hair and on my horse gently flutter;
there, below the Ottawa River thunders,
and the vast lands of wilderness stretch to the horizon.
There, above in that cloudless sky canopy,
eagles fly, symbolizing the Peoples spirit and strength;
there, in my dream, I am one with my ancestors,
the only sound is the wind that moves the fluttering feathers.
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
Something New
October 6, 2021
"They called it home, now the People watch it being destroyed,
once, they owned all the wilderness and in the mighty wind,
a lone feather twirls and swirls as if dancing ..."
the quivering feather is the only sound
where in my dream I am one with my People
and eagles flying above symbolize our spirit and strength
as they glide in a cloudless sky canopy
the vast land of Canada stretches to the horizon
and below the rocky cliffs the Ottawa River thunders
as feathers in my hair and on my horse dance
in the mighty winds that roars
this Ojibwe girl looks at the vast lands once owned
by the People, vast land that could have been shared
and with my majestic Appaloosa horse of many colors
upon that high jagged rocky cliff ... I weep
"and a feather lost glides drifting it soars"
______________________
October 06, 2021
Poetry/Verse/''The Lost Feather''
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1395-601-06
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Something Old Something New
sponsor, John Lawless, Judged 06/08/2022
First Place
Pellucid pearls in northeastern North America
since planetary birth
Comprise Lakes Superior, Michigan, Huron,
Erie, and Ontario dearth
Largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth
Straddle Canadian–United States border
tethering partial global girth
Constituting 21% of world's surface
fresh water species hearth
Total surface equals 94,250 square miles
And total volume equals
5,439 cubic miles immeasurable worth.
Lake Erie from Erie tribe, abridged form
of Iroquoian word erielhonan “long tail”
Lake Huron named by French explorers
for Wyandot or “Hurons” whence they did sail
Lake Michigan likely from Ojibwa word mishigami
“great water” aka outsize gold quail
Lake Ontario i.e. “Lake of Shining Waters”
shimmering like hammered coat of mail
Lake Superior coined from French
“lac supérieur” "upper lake", an emerald watery dale
Ojibwe people called it gitchigumi medicinal
to cure that, which might ail.
These five lakes each reside in separate basin
Form a single, naturally interconnected body
of fresh water caisson
Linking east-central interior of North America
to Atlantic Ocean akin to an escutcheon.
From interior to outlet at St. Lawrence River,
Water flows via Superior to Michigan-Huron
southward to Erie to avoid a shiver
Finally released northward to Lake Ontario
as like a well taut archer with his quiver.
The lakes drain a large watershed via many rivers
as an Olympic team
Populated with approximately 35,000 islands
this estimate not x stream.
The Great Lakes region contains
many thousands of smaller lakes,
Often called inland lakes undulating
in cascading analogous to a fluid ream
Lake Michigan the only one located
entirely within United States
While the others border between
United States and Canada – essentially a liquid seam.
I walk an already trodden path...
Uncertain, of future lives that lie ahead
But, in faith I close these earthly Ojibwa eyes
In trill, thus, I hear the old ways in your presence amidst Chinook winds
As harmonic they play across the plains, from sacred astral pipes
Mimicking cricket songs that echo abstract out of the season's last autumn mist
I also hear your fifes in the rustle of the leaves, rising into writhe
And almost see your spirit aura as it accompanies the Algonquian breeze
Ancient ghost of proud, but now lost upon a dying nation tribe
Your music from beyond is narrations of a mystical language nature speaks
Sweeping thrush calls, chirps through weeping willow weeps,
Unto past September sounds, beating down on war drum clouds, of thundering maelstrom claps
And babbling brooks going on and on until narrowing creaky creeks
Alas, whooper wills warning and morning loons mourning, hidden amidst the swaying grass
When I see you, I imagine spectral legends majestic high across horizon's sky
Snowy silhouettes in headdress, drifting in flowing rainbow crowns
And with the night, I see you in my mind dance as the "Will-Ó-the-wisp" just might
Then, my body shivers from the distance, where your flute imitates the cry of the lone coyote's sound
As for all of your Mishomis (grandfather) traditions, I accept there is a greater essence
Kindred I am, son to your spirit and without partition from an Ojibwa eye
And I stand here staunch in cattail marshes, pondering my place in ancestral questions
Now, your answers again begin to play upon the wind, but this time traveling through the November... Whispers on needles of the pine
I walk an already trodden path...
But, each new step before me keeps this culture alive...
Written in honor of my Chippewa family ©2012 Michael G. Smith
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
^^^^^
My people, the Ojibwe, fierce and strong
A people of stories and myths and knowledge
On birch bark scrolls and stones their history told
And I, a mere Ojibwa girl, write stories . . .
The early Canadian explorers wrote of our warriors . . .
". . . strong arms held bows, arrows and clubs,
their bodies tattooed in various fashion and design,
faces painted and noses pierced, majestic feathers"
Eventually, they stole our lands . . .
So, I tell my stories, I dream my dreams of a time past . . .
There
Upon a sheer and rocky cliff
The Appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic
There
Under the blazing blue sky
An Ojibwe warrior looks at me with great love
There
In the air and wind that roars
His feathers earned in acts of bravery quietly move
There
Nestled in his strong arms
My turquoise and glass beaded dress sparkles in the sun
There
Below the Ottawa River thunders
The vast lands of Canada stretch to the horizon
There
Above in that perfect sky
Eagles soar together as a symbol of Ojibwa unity
There
In the imagination of an Ojibwa girl
The only sound the wind that moves those feathers
Today, the majority of First Nation still live on reservations . . .
_________________________
May 24, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/The Ojibwe
Copyright Protected, ID 05-480-540-24
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Your Nationality
sponsor, Nathan D, Judged, 05/30/2013
Second Place
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
In the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
Once, the People owned all the wilderness,
They called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
There, high upon a sheer jagged, rocky cliff,
An appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic;
There, under a blazing azure sky above,
An Ojibwa girl looks at the beautiful land of Canada.
There, in that mighty wind that roars and howls,
Eagle feathers in my hair and on my horse gently flutter;
There, below the Ottawa River thunders,
And the vast lands of wilderness stretch to the horizon.
There, above in that cloudless sky canopy,
Eagles fly, symbolizing the Peoples spirit and strength;
There, in my dream, I am one with my ancestors,
The only sound is the wind that moves the fluttering feathers.
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
In the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
Once, the People owned all the wilderness,
They called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
____________________________
April 29, 2016
Poetry/Verse/"A Lost Feather"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-783-077-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
4/1/2019, 2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement
Sponsor, Mark Toney
Seventh Place
_______________________________
Submitted to Marathon, Mile 24
Sponsor, Mark Toney
First Place
________________________________
For the contest, A Poem Please
sponsor, John Lawless
Fourth Place
A feather lost, gliding and drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
There, high upon a sheer jagged, rocky cliff,
an appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic;
there, under a blazing azure sky above,
an Ojibwa girl looks at the beautiful land of Canada.
There, in that mighty wind that roars and howls,
eagle feathers in my hair and on my horse gently flutter;
there, below the Ottawa River thunders,
and the vast lands of wilderness stretch to the horizon.
There, above in that cloudless sky canopy,
eagles fly, symbolizing the Peoples spirit and strength;
there, in my dream, I am one with my ancestors,
the only sound is the wind that moves the fluttering feathers.
A feather lost, gliding and drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
____________________________
April 29, 2016
Poetry/Verse/The Feather
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1227-360-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Strand Select X
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
He walked up from the lake
Throwing open the door of the glorious day
Like a smiling OB-GYN snapping off his gloves
With a toolbox in hand
Delivered to my dad the good news.
“I’m certain this new ignition will take care of it
This time.”
My old dad said to the boat guy
I hope we can still get a few more years
Out of her.
The boat had become mainly show for us
Suspended in its hand-cranked metal cradle
Propeller crying
Like a pinwheel held in a hand of gale
Boat broke down summer after summer
Amongst the new Lear jets
Parked up and down the lake in solar-powered hoists
All the way to Sandy Pointe
We pretend it doesn’t matter
Swimming here
Is better than at the Sandbar or Cove
I swim deep
A shadow sprawled
Along the sun-refracted sandy bottom
Spearing this kaleidoscope of doubloons
While silver bubbles shimmer from my nose
A silver necklace
Drawn up to the blue universe
Past the gray of my temples
As it should be
Let them fillet the water with their young magic hulls
To enjoy a sunset beer at the Dockside
Like we used to in the Four Winns
Indeed, it is wonderful
Centuries ago
The Ojibwa canoed this lake Was-wa-gon-ong at night
With birch torches roaring
Hunting Whitefish until they were all gone
As well.
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
There, high upon a sheer jagged, rocky cliff,
an appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic;
there, under a blazing azure sky above,
an Ojibwa girl looks at the beautiful land of Canada.
There, in that mighty wind that roars and howls,
eagle feathers in my hair and on my horse gently flutter;
there, below the Ottawa River thunders,
and the vast lands of wilderness stretch to the horizon.
There, above in that cloudless sky canopy,
eagles fly, symbolizing the Peoples spirit and strength;
there, in my dream, I am one with my ancestors,
the only sound is the wind that moves the fluttering feathers.
A feather lost glides, drifting, it soars,
in the mighty wind, it twirls and swirls, as if dancing;
once, the People owned all the wilderness,
they called it home, now they watch it be destroyed.
____________________________
April 29, 2016
Poetry/Verse/'The Lost Feather'
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1149-942-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Your Choice, Any Form, Any theme
Brian Strand
First Place
Upon a sheer and jagged cliff an Appaloosa horse of many colors stands majestic
under the blazing azure sky. An Ojibwa girl, proud, looks at the beautiful land of
Canada as the mighty wind roars. A feather in her raven long hair quietly moves.
Below the Ottawa River thunders and the vast lands of wilderness stretch to the
horizon. The feather is caught by the blowing breeze and . .
fluttering drifting
it dances in the mighty wind
to and fro it soars
Above in the perfect sky an eagle glides symbolizing the strength of my people,
the Ojibwa. We and our native brothers once owned this land, the rivers, the
trees and the fish. In the end we lost. The only sound is the wind that takes
my beautiful twirling, swirling feather . . .
floating hovering
a ballet in the mighty wind
to and fro it glides
___________________________
April 25, 2015
Poetry/Haibun/The Fluttering Feather
Copyright Protected, ID 04-666-867-25
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France