Red cones on the blacktop
August is a burning blanket.
Dusty crows perch on long dead armadillos.
The Chevys' air-con
chokes up a warm blow.
A Navaho in Ohio has phoned.
he needs to talk about his dead wife.
He will have cold beers.
I have my own beers
but go anyway.
The evening is electric and neon,
city roads growl like wounded samurai.
If I were a hermit crab
I would shuck this scorched world off
my sweating back.
All I really want right now
is to sleep naked on a mortuary slab
as cold Atlantic waves
undress my skin and bones.
Not dead – just revived enough
to be a friend of a friend
to the newly departed
and still cooling.
Categories:
navaho, poetry,
Form: Free verse
navaho rainbow owl
appear to me in my dreams
show me my intended paths
bring the people I need into my life
you are my totem, my rock, my strength
you bring me my power and my wealth
I am intrigued by you
also grateful to the sky father
for sending you tonight in my hour of need
Categories:
navaho, animal,
Form: Free verse
snail peeked out of his owner’s Navaho backpack
where was his owner? They would be late for the geology test.
He knew he had been dropped accidentally
he began whistling
Categories:
navaho, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Free verse
The Holy Bible is a Journal.
On the desk, and it's definitely
not made of Mahogany,
it's lightly-stained Oak.
The blanket is Navaho. It's All Sacred.
Those Impeccable Tribes of the Desert -via the Fountaini
- will make more, but the Object can't be Programmed.
It's one of the gadflies or juggernauts ,
some say Gordian Knots,
of Simulation "Theory."
It's REALLY HARD (some say - ahem - difficult) to simulate a Grandpa.
Categories:
navaho, age, america, angst, anxiety,
Form: ABC
An energetic wedge of blue cranes doing mating dances
entered into Little Bear’s dream state without warning
Are they my totem? My spiritual advisors? My power animals?
He believed in such things, being Navaho.
He asked the revered shaman for advice
The crane will bring you luck and fortune
You will succeed where others have failed.
Keep him; he will teach you to prioritize.
The blue crane specifically will bring you peace.
Teach you to meditate, and be mindful.
You will better listen to the universe.
She is always speaking.
Little Bear had always been cheerful,
But this dream uplifted his heart.
Made him incredibly joyful.
He was a changed brave.
Categories:
navaho, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Prose Poetry
Navaho woman gathers eagle feathers in a thoughtful way
Understanding their mystical properties better than most
The feathers invite ancestral spirits to gather their soul clan
The resulting enticing dream catcher works well with turquoise
Dividing sorrow, tossing her into the ether
Making room for transitional joy and hope.
Categories:
navaho, hope,
Form: Free verse
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Deliberately Flawed
Makers of pottery, rug weavers too,
from varied cultures- plan each design;
create flawed patches in work that they do-
since only God is perfection, divine.
The Navaho weave rugs with broken lines-
this facade showcases imperfect art;
as humans, they leave illusion- small signs-
spirit lines where weaver souls can depart.
So, inside their art, they hide the mask
of those defects well, not to detract
from beauty- and weave within every task
a strand of yarn- torn, a tiny bead- cracked.
Blessings of their imperfection- embrace;
seeking to match God's perfection- disgrace.
June 16, 2021
~1st Place~
Contest: Writing Prompt - Flawed
Sponsor: Constance La France
Judged: 06/24/2021
Required Words:
flawed, broken, facade, imperfect,
illusion, mask, torn, cracked
Categories:
navaho, dedication, god,
Form: Rhyme
I might have seen,
(not on a movie or television screen),
but had looked where the mind flickers
when I am not there
to block the view.
In that place, where my dreams
see through a darkling glass,
skins and organs put on new clothes,
mind-bones structure the unfinished scaffolding
of forgotten lives.
Life-stories just threads in a flying carpet,
a legend for a Navaho shaman
to drape about his shoulders.
Perhaps reincarnation is a book of dreams
for insomniacs.
I watch for facets in a prism,
each one is cut into a hundred views,
a casting of what was or could be.
There are names and places,
all sorts of leasing’s
destined to always by-pass each other
until all arrive as one
in one multifaceted picture.
Those faces mean nothing much
until the mirror reveals your eyes watching,
as if you had just walked
through a door in a mega-mansion
you helped build.
Categories:
navaho, poetry,
Form: Free verse
He salutes the mountains Tehachapi to the west
San Gabriel and San Bernardino to the south
This is his rite of passage
His coming of age
How he’s yearned
For his spiritual journey
To become a man
Thirsting to prove his bravery
Alone he wanders the barren Mojave
Facing the elements
And challenges head on
Datura in hand for nights of visions
To forge his unique one-on-one bond
With the universe and its mysteries
Bam bam bam echoes of drumming
Till the spirits of his ancestors
The lingering chants of Navaho
Guide him to the oasis of manhood
AP: Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on October 22, 2018 for contest MID OCTOBER 2018 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
and October 1, 2018 for contest I WANDER THE DESERT ALONE sponsored by EDWARD IBEH
Categories:
navaho, age, boy, courage, growing
Form: Free verse
Wild horses, prairies, desert canyons,
Native Indians, brush landscapes
by 'Dean of Western Painters'
known as Olaf Wieghorst.
His contrast boldness,
softened with light
blended hues,
stirred my
heart.
Inspired to capture his moving art,
passion pushed to reproduce his
famed Navaho masterpiece;
every brushstroke chosen
to grasp his canyon,
mother and child
on stone bluff
framed by
rock.
Categories:
navaho, art, beautiful, love, western,
Form: Nonet
The Fox:
1. the blare of the horn
snooty hooves of fire red coats...
panting for my life
2. briar rabbit ears
twisting in my angry grip...
more tall tales are told
3. a hen in my mouth
a farmer without his gun...
life can be so good
The Wolf:
1. silver sinews coil
full moon permits me to speak...
shivers for all men
2. my proud bloody coat
clings to young Navaho skin...
tales of my demise
3. the grind of tractors
growl grief to my amber eyes...
leave my land alone
The Coyote:
1. mangy vermin shriek
pelts darken with scarlet smear...
ranchers open fire
2. mere morsels to munch
lupine snap shears of warning...
always last in line
3. roy rodgers singing
cactus cattle and trail dust...
my chorus off key
Categories:
navaho, animals, imagination, nature
Form: Haiku
an east meets west show
the Navaho laid low-
on western art nouveau
* a baize and handspun wool blanket-widely pictured in Stikley's Arts& Crafts mag 'Craftsman'
c 1900
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/fts/tucson_200601A55.html
Categories:
navaho, art, people, places
Form: Ekphrasis
Today's closing hangs lower than it did yesterday,
trying to mess with tomorrow's dreams.
Sitting here, dressed in a wry smile, my heart
whispers to a sky, tie-dyed with the jewel
of Navaho stone and the salmon pinks
of Tsimshian legend.
I feed myself with steam from Irish tea,
invoking the memory of my first Lakota sweat lodge,
and take comfort tracking what's left of tonight in Indian time;
tomorrow will have to wait 'til I get there.
This now is meant for savoring the scent,
sounds, and sights of Mother Earth
as she gets ready to tamp down the fire
of a troubled day, leaving my peace
under the watchful eyes of a Harvest Moon.
Categories:
navaho, native american, nature,
Form: Free verse