The still air is broken by a distant shout,
Watch out now Steven there's Red Indians about.
Your bright eyes widen in the sunny glow,
Quickly now Steven lets make you a bow.
Carefully through the trees we tramp,
Quitely now Steven there's the Indain camp.
But you are not scared, your chest is full of pride,
Now Daddy has made you a bow you don't have to hide.
I
All sorts of fears
A place of tears
And all these years
I thought these letters
Strung together for a collector?
No, far from such
C O I M E T R O PH O B I A
Intimated I feared losing
Coins at the cemetery
But oops, nothing to do with coins!
II
Then capital, names, of nations can
And do raise the odd question
Does Turkey have to do with FOWL?
For "turkey," tradition thanks Native Americans
With apologies a good country
Might - o capital - sound hell- ish, I'm sorry
I don't understand H E L S I N K I
But "hell" better deal FIRE than WATER
May Finland never taste an iota of sink!
Meanwhile tourists have made me think
About BANGKOK (some business stink!)
Back in the USA, I did learn to connect
The dots for INDIANAPOLIS & Connecticut
In Africa's south, a harbour (yes, there's contraband)
Rhymes with urban, not pronounced DUR - BAN
But yes, I do pray we do begin to ban
Alcohol sales on Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays
Prayer or pipedream for old fashioned ways?
I
If Obama and fans had stormed Capitol, democracy would preach
II
If Obama and fans had stormed the Capitol, he would not preach again
III
If Trump ever pays for 2021 sedition, all blood of First Nations would be Silenced
There are many of us who say we had nothing to do with the theft of land out from under the Natives who were here before us…that we didn’t break any promises, we didn’t lie or steal or kill in a massive land-takeover bid….
There are many of us who say we feel no shame, we take no responsibility for those actions…that was something our ancestors did.
There are many of us who say we’ve never enslaved another person…we’ve never mistreated, abused or caused another person woe…
There are many of us who say we feel no shame, we take no responsibility…that was our ancestors…and that was a long, long time ago.
But there are some of us who still see the impact of our ancestors…who see the destruction and devastation that has lingered long after the flood…
who know as long as there is still one person feeling their effects…
there will be a heaviness in our heart
and shame running through our blood.
They where hunter gatherers at one with the land,
They thanked mother earth with song and dance,
Occasionally another tribe would raid and kill,
Years they lived on the land with customs and traditions
The head was the chief beloved by all,
Happy .... not knowing what was to come.
White man came they wanted their land,
White man spoke with folk tongue signing treats they didnt keep,
They eradicated whole groups to get their way,
The natives not expected to fight back,
When they did they where called savages.
The whites called them indians a derogative name when all is said and done,
Shoved on reservations their traditions outlawed,
Their children shoved in white mans schools they didnt want to go,
For years it's been that way a tragedy to behold,
Soon their ways will be forgotten,
Native Americans true people of the land.
Native Americans were given such a dirty deal
Fought for the land that was theirs, how would you feel
My mind can't conceive
Of this horrible deed
Incomprehensible, unfathomable, totally unreal
I have a shark's tooth
Found under the soil not so deep
In my Kansas yard.
I hide it from others so they will not ruin
My illusions about it.
I feel it is from a fierce and mighty shark
Who devoured little fish, and even maybe a human leg.
I picture it as being from prehistoric times.
I hide it especially well when the archeologists come visit
We have a creek in the backyard where they have had a dig
Discovering hundreds of arrowheads
And maybe an axe handle, but not the one I am hiding with
My shark's tooth. For I do not want anyone to ruin my
Axe handle illusions either.
Wolf’s Song
I have the Great Wolf’s spirit
Flowing through my veins.
I can feel how my tribe suffered
When I gaze at their remains.
For all that’s left has turned to dust,
No longer do they cry.
They remain a haunting memory
Where soaring eagles fly.
Once a mighty nation
With pride and love to share
That white men turned to ashes
With no sympathy or care.
In my heart still lives the pain
But I must let it go…
For it hurts me more to carry it
Than white men will ever know.
I still love looking at our land
Though taken from our use.
I feel the pride that dwells inside
As still we suffer from abuse.
© 11-21-18
TRIBUTE TO NATIVE CULTURE Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
*Dedicated to our Native American brothers and sisters on reservations
Happy Thanksgiving to all American Poets
There was a mystical anticipation in
Running Wolf’s embracing forest tonight.
A heart-felt feeling that encompassed the tents,
The bonfires, and the family. The children had felt it at first light.
Mother Air was fog-like thick, Father Mountain colder than usual.
Brother Trees darkened themselves in a strange way,
Auntie Twilight helped Spirit Sisters enter the trees,
Rocks, and moss, on this particular day.
Day Spirit slept while Night Spirit took over.
Brother Sky smiled and twinkled in happy glee,
As well-kept secrets of the evening were hurled,
And Cousin Squirrels began the climb up their tree.
Running Wolf’s tribe family did not know it at the time, but
Some said to the Great Spirit later, there was no fright.
None were surprised when they discovered themselves
In the Other World greeting their ancestors at first light.
Written 11-16-2018 Contest: Tribute to Native American Culture
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
As a boy he read a lot of their stories.
At eleven he started to write two prose books
about them and he taught himself to swim their way.
At seventeen he walked alone for ten days
through the forests of Holy Cross Mountains
to bond himself with nature.
God saved him many times in his journeys.
After High School he studied theology
for two years in monastery to solve
metaphysical quests about existence,
then he immigrated to Native Americans’ land,
thinking he will meet them, but alas
their physical World was shattered.
Spiritually you are mighty people
of almighty God, creator of all,
who will recompense you for all suffering.
I know this apostle, he is acquainted with our God –
metaphysical poet he is.
Brothers and sisters embrace
true Church of Resurrected Christ.
There are many churches, but only
the one established by Resurrected Christ is true.
Get hold on Heaven, on eternity.
There are many empty thrones in Heaven,
after corrupted Angels were expelled.
These thrones will be given to the holy people.
Bad Colonists will be expelled as corrupted Angels.
Ask any Roman Catholic Priest to baptize you.
Petition Kateri Tekakwitha your holy sister
and abandon every false religion.
I Art am the Father of your Church,
guarding and advising you.
There are thousands of schismatic churches,
but they are just tombs without God.
Brothers forgive your intruders
for the Holocaust they have caused you.
Another land of Canaan taken forever
and they wanted you to perish
like the great Nation of Phoenicians.
Fortunately you had good prophets:
Dekanawida and others.
You did not listen to Jezebel
and Great Spirit, Manitu led you
to the Holy Spirit and true God.
We stand in front of you,
all Native Tribes –
humble, with heads bend.
Our president, who received Nobel Peace Prize,
had the time to reconcile
the atrocities committed on your people,
by the hostile men,
who had to corrupt their own religion
of one Church of Christ
to justify their terrible deeds!
Hunger led you through
the Bering Straits
to discover new possibilities
in the foreign, distant land.
You were hunters, brave and great,
chasing animals for your survival,
walking thousands of miles –
hunting to sustain existence.
Your other brothers,
set sail in their catamarans
from Polynesian Islands
through the ocean expanses.
Roaring winds, mass of water,
walls of treacherous waves,
sinking many of your boats -
huge billows of water were falling
to the abyss, on your ships.
The bravest of you,
came to the new shores
of imaginary, fantastic worlds.
Then, thousands of years later
came hostile brothers to the lands of yours.
They put claim on your dominion
and they diminished many Native Nations.
Ancient ways of life
those of yours, distinct culture,
which they wrongly understood,
putting their seal of polluted world.
White world and white words
Old in heart but yet peaceful
Symbol of greatness.
Take me to the hill
from which the rainbow rises
to pay ancestors’ tribute.
Share the memories
handed down by mighty chiefs,
warriors who loved the land.
Harmony once reigned
between their tribes and nature
until white men invaded.
Interstates now run
through our backyards -- urban sprawl.
Endangered is our future.
*Entry for Chris's contest, but originally written for Rick's "Ancient Songs" contest.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.