%%%%%%%%Amercan Indian poems %%%%%%%% BURY ME AT WOUNDED KNEE Bury me at wounded knee, for my heart grows faint and my body grows old. The grounds too soft for my feet to tread, and the nights are cold; too cold. Bury me at wounded knee, where the warriors died young and bold. The white man comes to steal our land, for the gold; pure gold. Bury me at wounded knee, for we wont do as were told. The women die from lack of food, and our children are sold; all sold. And soon our footprints in the snow, will blow away with the wind. And only silence lingers on, where once laughter had been! ODE OF THE LOST INDIAN NATION You came to our land of milk and honey fair, and trampled through our woods, as if we were not there. You ignored all our pleas for peace, and marched us to and fro, and now we are scattered here and there with no place else to go. You beat us like dogs, and expect us to bow down, you made us hungry and weak, til we fall to the ground. You took our daughters for wives, and made our nation weak, you made cowards out of most, and now we are afraid to speak. So now I humbly ask you, was it worth the fight, to scourge our village, and raid us through the night? You thinned out our bloodlines; you thought you were smart, you may take the Indian from our blood, but never from our heart. THE VOICE OF THE INDIAN NATION They came with picks and axes and guns in tow, and told the Indian Nation, you will have to go. They cared little about nature, and less for the land, now left with no place to go, we must make our stand. They let us starve in winter, and put many warriors to rest. They walk around like kings of the earth; like theyre the only blest. But now I say to the white man, conquers of old and new, many diasterous events, will soon come to you! Because God, our might creator, and his blessed son, will not let you trample mother earth, and walk as if you have won. So come on brothers and sisters, lets dance and sing our song, and come together once again, and make our nation strong! A WARRIORS CONFESSION TO HIS FAIR MAIDEN Oh, my love how fair you are. You are brighter than a night time star. The wind sweeps your silky raven hair, your eyes like drops of amber rare. We climb upon a mountain high, and watch the sunset in the sky. Together we watch the stars above, vowing our eternal love. WHITE BUFFALO CALF WOMAN Many natives speak of her, she came from up above. She came upon the earth, to unite the rainbow love. She came as a white calf, but it soon was clear to see, that she was so much more, than a mystery. So long ago she came, and spoke of brotherhood. And sent each one their separate ways, to live a life of good. So when you see a white calf, born pure and true, remember to unite in love, for she is watching you! SOULS OF YESTERDAY They still walk the plains, when the moon is high. Their ghostly figures upon their horse, as they go riding by. The wolves upon a high rock, with their frosted breath of air, look out upon the poor souls, with their amber stare. The cold plains full of snow, the weary band draws near, silent is the night, but for the wailing cries you here. Marching onward they go, moving far away, soon they disappear; the souls of yesterday. THE MEDICINE MAN (CALL OF THE WOLF) On a cold moonlit night, with snow upon the ground, majestic mountains standing tall, where no soul is found, only the medicine man, with his palette round. In the distance, a hooting owl, as he takes to flight, or the faint bobcat growl, as he vanishes from sight, then silence, as the medicine man chants long into the night. Suddenly a heart-felt cry; a wolf stands by the tree, with his amber soulful eyes, appearing magically, like a spirit, roaming wild and free. THE WAY THINGS WERE Once upon a time there was a free land, beauty rested upon it everywhere. There were rivers of fresh clear water, where Bears of every kind would fish and play. There were Wolves with their mystic howl, telling of ancient times and singing to the moon. The trees would talk and whisper, laughing with every breeze. The flowers in the meadow lands were happy to peek their heads to each fresh new day. And they would be star struck every night with the moons gentle bright glow! The Buffalo would graze in the meadow and laze around on a sunny day and listen to the songs of the Meadow Lark as he happily cut across the grass lands. The rains had their time to pour and the fruits and nuts of every kind would grow. It was a vast and beautiful place, where harmony abound. The ancient people there would give thanks and prayers for their bountiful harvest. They payed homage to all of nature just taking where they should and leaving where they could. Nothing out of place. The kids would play in the fields and leap with the gentle Deer. For there wasnt yet that kind of fear between these people and their brothers and sisters in nature. All of nature had a gift and a message to send. From the wise old owl, the snake that slithered along to every rock, tree and blade of grass. Their ceremonies would make all the woodland creatures in awe. Hearing the gentle yet deep beat of the drum to the chanting and dancing of the two-legged kind. Then in the breath of time there were those that came. They didnt pay homage to nature, they polluted her rivers and creeks. They killed more of the four-legged than was necessary and sometimes they did it just because. Nature didnt understand and so she reacted by giving stings to the Insects and Scorpions. And killer instincts to the four-legged to surrive. She gave droughts and sometimes downpours when it should not be. She wanted to gently scold. But they didnt listen. Then things changed and fear was begotten into this beautiful land. Beauty still exists within her. You just have to dig deeper to find it! We must never give up hope and always love and remember in the far reaches of our hearts, the way things were....And only can we change it back again!
Posted on: Mon, 08 Sep 2014 10:52:56 +0000
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