Many Moons Poems - Poems about Many Moons

Echo of distant cries, quadruped steps deepening into dusk— wind folding the earth’s breath. Craftsman of the spider web, seas of lightning possessing the sky. Guardian of the other side, conceiver of comings and goings, I will meet you soon— after the waning of many moons, God-willing—I will meet you soon! Til then you will wait— til the fateful rain washes the earth, til the sky...

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In our wigwams we hear tom-toms Like hearts beating out a greeting; Seasons in tune with thirteen moons. In the moon of red grass. Let the white man come. There is room enough for all. In the moon of green grass. Let the white man come. There is grass enough for all. In the moon when ponies shed. Let the white man come. There are ponies...

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Thinking about us and thinking back to the day we met, Thinking about current circumstances, it was a planned bet. The cards were lain out long ago, before we had any ache, The chips were already locked in, no one else could partake. Destiny locked us in together. Welded the door and such, It was comforting, to have met someone...

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Many Moons Many moons have affected my way of life From conflicts to divine meetings To when I choose to say goodbye I’m always pulled in the direction of what seems most right When listening to the many moons And the thousand faces she assumes...

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The ancient prophecy foretold so very long ago ... has finally arrived Coming swiftly on eagle wings The howling wind carries piercing night cries, as open iron claws fall from the mountain sky And the slumber days, shown many moons ago, has awakened death — cursed faces carved on the fallen totem poles So many, many moons ago, my careless people were told by the Almighty Spirit...

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Before ten thousand moons passed by reigned Mother Earth and Sacred Sky. Their spirits whispered on the breeze, from mountain streams to deepest seas. Nomadic souls rode ne’er to die before ten thousand moons passed by hunting bison, both proud and strong, with lips chanting ancestral songs. Each blessing rained from clouds of truth of spirits taught in gleaming youth. Before ten...

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rock radio tunes white walled treads and baby moons… laughing like buffoons...

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