MY AMERICAN 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 won't do as we're 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 they're 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 WARRIOR'S 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 moon's 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 wasn't 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 didn't 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 didn't 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 didn't 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!
