O Sierra Loa, the mountain of lions
A land of thy free, O native land.
A symbol of God's majestic hand
A nation so small yet peaceful and grand.
Beneath your ever clear sky
Merry mountains and gay valleys lie.
Home to air that touches hearts far and wide.
For you my song and hymns will always bide.
Your rivers, your vast and wide seas
As blue as the eyes of lion mountains
Flow like the taps of royal fountains.
The beauty of you my eyes will always see.
Oh native land, my home, my heart
In you I found the courage since the very start
To wave through the storms of our gloomy past.
The love in you, o native land, all my worries I cast.
When this plague passes over
And we emerge from our arks
Let not the euphoria of seeing
The rainbow in the horizon again
Becloud our vision or deafen our ears
To the sound of heavy chariots from
The end of the spectral
From whence travel a people
In the direction of the sun rise
With boundless treasure
In search of new lands to sow
Crop and human seeds
Let us not stray far away
For these wanderers seek titles
They will come first as farmers
To buy our crops
Yet will not allow us a square metre
On their own soil
Their prisoners will dare to do
What our envoys dread to do in their land
They will pay bride prices
To become one with us
Nomads will seek to become chieftains
And will drink with primogeniture
Till they enter chambers of princesses
In the name of wedlock
And become lords of vast fertile lands
Which natives boast not of
We crave for civilization but
God forbids us allowing princes sell lands
Where dwell the bones of our ancestors
We shall welcome strangers but
Will not share our beloved land
With vile visitors
Lest when midnight comes,
There shall be no shelter
And in my dream- I am a native girl,
I stand on a high cliff soaring above;
the wind is whirling,
caressing me with love.
Below the mighty Ottawa roars,
above in the azure the eagle soars;
I am one with nature and have no fears,
birds are singing;
flutes are ringing,
time is ticking.
These jagged rocks my throne,
this place I like to roam;
once to the horizon was my home,
deep in my forest the paths are cool.
See the deep pool,
and wildflower jewels;
I am falling and my eagle feathers twirl,
and I wake up weeping, a lost native girl.
______________________
August 9, 2016
Poetry/Verse/My Native Land
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 816-313-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to, Contest No. 330
sponsor, Brian Strand
Second Place
The golden grain stretched out like sheets
upon the Kansas plain, like birthright, innocent
behind the festered sun.
Some were unaware of upstarts
in the rolling Minnesota countryside,
defiant to the blistering avalanche of corn.
There were the sidewise glances,
prudent in their reticence, worn pencils
tucked behind their bibs, the markets'
vagaries aswim, Chicago far the east of home.
In Iowa as well,
the warriors of the plough,
the timeless men of bread,
the conquerors of earth and sinew,
beast and baronet,
to thread the cloth of motherland
before our birth.
Thereto in Illinois, my cradle sanctuary
nested from the mountains
and the alien sea; I was the listener
within this deep midwestern ground.
It is not still where I have been;
the voices and the footfalls
make their print in time
and may not be erased.
And though my ashes fly in space
my breath, my bliss, my bower
rests forever in the heartland of the earth.
~
Four legged people are indispensable and pride of our native land
With a pair of forelegs, they move forward with their gifted mind
They completely compensated their weaknesses with their creative hands
Making native products and handcrafts for tourists to buy in souvenir stands
Nov. 17,2012
*pair of forelegs means the pair of crutches/the four wheels of a wheelchair
Note:
A dedication to physically handicapped brothers and sisters who shared their aesthetic skills in making native products, art works or handicrafts being sold in different beauty spots of our country.
8th Place Winner
Contest: Four, For, Fore
Judged: 11/22/12
Poet Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Poet Sponsor
Have you forgotten your native land, the days when our ancestors sweat and harvest?
crop with their hands, Jamaica our black ***** land
the name itself is a brand
Have you forgotten the Jamaican national bird, our charming doctor bird?
can you remember that national dish we call ackee and saltfish
out of many one people, Jamaica human race, a land, a wonderful place
where human beings express their smile on their happy face
Have you forgotten the national heroes who fought for us and thus who died
for us, can you remember this all, these seven national heroes and one heroine who
stood tall, although our country was small
these were the one's who made it remain still and not fall
The last sentence in the national anthem I shall recall
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica land we love
created by the heavenly father above.
Demeter Edwards
The island
Once naive
now tainted
by the winds of change
Once native
now giving birth
to a race of diverse cultures
Once a peaceful place
now disturbed
by a rapid modern world
The island
Once their home
our home
my home
has become an uncertain place in the heart