Make your own free website on Tripod.com

REBECCA IN THOUGHTS AND WORDS

DENNIS LINDEBLAD'S POETRY PAGE

Home
DEDICATION POEMS AND QUOTES!
FAMILY POETRY
EVERYTHING HERBS
AMERICAN INDIAN POEMS AND QUOTES
WOLVES
DREAMS AND PROPHECY POETRY AND QUOTES
STARRY NIGHT POETRY
POEMS BY SARAH CLEGHORN (1876-1959)
LOVE POETRY
ABOUT ME
NATURE POETRY
INSPIRATIONAL AND INSIGHT POETRY
POLITICAL AND ENVIRONMENTAL POETRY AND QUOTES
QUOTES
LEGENDS AND LORE POETRY
DENNIS LINDEBLAD'S POETRY PAGE
FAVORITE LINKS
CONTACT ME
PHOTOS OF US
CHILDREN'S POETRY

THE POETRY OF DENNIS

strengthofthebuffalo.jpg

PROMISES...

There is no tomorrow for them who are dying,

a sleepless wanderer seeking for its soul

asking for forgiveness.

Promises left within to die in the wind blown away..

DL

 

CHEYENNE

They trade

hopes in trust..

Like their breath whispers a thousand  lies,

the break of dawn shines through their promises they attack,

no one spare a shine of light,

everyone has to die..

Soldiers drunk by whiskey within hate and anger

fire their arms.

Killed by them who didn’t understand

A sound of madness shouted out loud

buried so deep in an evil silence,

dies within last cries.

Sounds of horses

touches the ground...

DL

 

 

Dont leave me,

im not still dead..

shouted tears ,

running with children..

thru wisphers,

painted in

silence

after death..

We all exist..

DL

 



Our land is our soul, we treasure what mother nature provided for us,
honoring our gift to walk through her creations of beauty..
The great one gave us our life to walk on this earth in hope we
always keep her safe...

Thousands of years
 we kept our promises

500 years ago
we welcomed them into our garden of truth...

Our land...

No one speaks the words of the past anymore
mother nature poisoned dying...

Our future, 
no less, no more
we died for what is truly ours..

Some of us burried by the bullets, unarmed in a massacre in anger
some in hunger in a walk in a dead landscape
without water.

Our history is ours
truly ours..

Native Americans


                                                                      

By Dennis Lindeblad

Once we lived free…         

In our own way we created our future,

in our dreams we honoured them who brings us shelter,

our tears rides in the wind for the lost of and without forgiveness for the young ones

who died

for nothing..

 

Our pray…

Mother nature please forgive us for our sins

nurse for our women and children and our people,

father send us peace and health for the future,

don’t let us die in vain..

Oh great spirit let us walk in your beauty once again free..

 

Our land is poisoned with greed without understanding

dying in need,

there is no drums of joy

no sacred hearts protecting who we once were

is forever lost…

don’t let our children forget to be proud

remembering who they truly are…

 

White mans greed

like a dinosaur

Ends…
By Dennis Lindeblad




By Dennis Lindeblad
The grass grows like it will every year waiting to feed the buffalos

mother earth is tired of listening of long lost souls who is dying..

promised land grows in blood,

honour and defeat lay its hand over thousand of years of harmony

in respect remembering,

 

People who died fighting..

 

The great spirit let them into his world

honouring them..

 

Tears of rain cries

with its thunder in lightning

reminding us we are only guests in this world…

 

All our memories thoughts spoken words and action

lives in mother earth to be remembered..




 

Wounded knee     By Dennis Lindeblad

 

The beast leaves his horse reaches for his gun

two bullets ,

her baby died in her arms..

 

Men riding thru firing their arms chasing desperate

people ,crawling thru dirt asking for their life’s

 

Soldier in blue rise his sword slips throats of children,

thinks his a better man…

 

Burning shelter without fear ..

 

Solider poisoned its land

with its act..

 

Voices of wounded knee

 

No better war than

unarmed without arms to protect them selves.

 

Who can call him self a man

honouring his uniform,

 

buried them in a mass grave with no respect.

after two days

 

Let us remember them who died in fear

 

Their souls

died for us to remembering

their life’s





LAKOTA  By Dennis Lindeblad
My soul is empty without answers, our hopes and dreams vanished.

our promises our truth our heritage.

They tell us to give up our guns and they provide for our needs..

how can they ?

they hate us for what we are ..

They want us to give up what makes us men ,to provide for our families..

Their people learned us to long for things we wouldn’t dream of,

they gave us things we didn’t ask for..

Like a broken marriage they took our land and left us in sickness without health.

We made our promises and kept them into our heart learned our children

the way of natures band.

We were to many to kill , our needs, our families, our buffalos.

painted into the ground,

in blood

Our great leaders with wisdom hunted down

just kill them for what they are..

 

Our starvation is another word for reservation .

Id like to die like I was born

free..



Written by Dennis Lindeblad

Words written

like a leaf in the wind

flies

with it's emptiness..

Shadows, fur fills in the shades

of darkness....

Tears ride in the wind

of thunder and lightening.

Souls seeking shelter

afraid of answers bitten by the wind...

A taste of a wonderful dream

smiles.

A man who remembers

talking about the future..

A man who can't hear

rises his voice

without answers...

The unforgiving ones walk

in a nightmare..

Never to be forgiven..

Them who whispers

won't be heard..

Cut me and I bleed.



Truth     Written by Dennis Lindeblad

A Man came to us with hope

There is nothing,

put in reservation

forbidden.

Our past...

Walks the line to get blankets,

with nothing to eat,

children walk in hunger

dies.

Buffalo hunters made theirself a fortune

selling only the skin..

In hunger we dance for a better life..

Troops hunting our last people in freedom..

Soldiers

we gave up our guns..

In their hearts they're seeking revenge of a mad man

killing us all.

Our souls rise through the sky in spirits

They are not human

only mad men.

Our frozen hearts published

burried in mass graves with no honour.

Their medals 

speak of murders

honoured by their community..

Wounded Knee.




 

My last breath

They came asking for our weapons..

starving with hunger blinded in trust..

painted by them ..

shots fired..

I lay my head dying within the grass

remembering it all.

soldiers with their guns

fired

to let us know we have to die

for nothing..

Im not afraid..

we all die someday..

Remembers Wounded knee





 

Oh great spirit

 

We walked thru creation

we bring our children into this world.

we learned them to honour and know how blessed they are...

 

Mother nature..

a handfull tells a thousand memories

to honour in our hand..

 Native americans

 

Last

 

 

A poised land honour and truth worship what they create in a bitten hand.

In honour he died as young man

murdered

 but still a man of war..

 

He died entered our land in belief he was a better man,

 

A silence walks thru dead man last stand ..

 

To be remembered as greed...

 

 

 

 

Six horses seven lies..

 

 

He rides thru heaven speaks a thousand memories  but not enter this world..

His tomahawk buries thousands of breath,

never to come through..

In his eyes greatness disappear into action..

Silence for them who belief…

Honouring  them who died young..

In once a free world..

 

Seven lies

 

Against human trust you figure it out

 

 

 

Silent thru anger never whisper
footstep walks never speaks..
vain without …
I silent take my breath…
 
In  my memories I walk seventh miles
to come were I was from..
 
I hate my self and what I become…
 
In my dreams there is some kind of answers
who find its truth..
 
I don’t know my history
and were I came from..

Enter content here

cherokeetrailtears.gif

Enter supporting content here

VOTE FOR AN NATIVE AMERICAN HOLIDAY
 
 
 
 
 "Silence,they say,is the voice of complicity. But silence is impossible. Silence screams. Silence is the message,just as doing nothing is an act. Let who you are ring out and resonate in every word and deed. Yes,become who you are. There's no sidestepping your own being or your own responsibility. What you do is who you are. You are your own comeuppance. You become your own message. You are the message. In the Spirit of Crazy Horse." 
 Leonard Peltier~ U.S. Federal Prisoner #89637-132 

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing."--John Keats