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My Indian Pride

 
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vincent

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Joined: 10 Apr 2006

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Post subject: My Indian Pride Reply with quote
From the link in my SIG

My Indian Pride

My body lives in the white man's land,
Yet strong and proud my red skin still stands.

Stripped of my heritage long ago,

Forced to give up the arrow and bow.

Denied the home where my people died,

For they trusted, yet the white father lied.

I wait in peace for our nations's return,

As forseen in ghost dance,

For this my heart yearns.

The spirit wind listens,

As the moon hears my cry.

My soul remains free,

With the eagle it flies.

Like war drums my heart beats with my Indian pride,

My spirit pony still with me rides.

A dream that one day my tribe will unite,

This I know is my Cherokee right.

They can take my life but not my soul,

I am Red,

I am Proud,

I am Cherokee,

Behold!


Martha Moongazer Beard
dec 2004



Oh Redman
To My Beloved People and All Native Americans

Oh Redman tall and proud,
watch him take his stand.
To protect his humble people,
and their mighty sacred land.

O're the Mother Earth he'll roam,
this is where he makes his home.
Summers,Winters he will go,
Deserts,mountains,and forests below.

Hunting only for the need,
Takes no more takes no less.
For his people he must feed,
To show his bravery to past the test.

Oh Great Spirt hear my plea,
protect my people watch over me.
The Whiteman comes we must fight,
To protect our lands with all might

Our women scream, our childern cry,
and on this day we all must die.
Now we walk with our fears,
down the sad,Trail Of Tears!


Linda G. Johnson



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PostThu Apr 13, 2006 1:26 pm
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zandore

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Joined: 30 Mar 2006

Posts: 78



Post subject: Reply with quote
Nice poems

I am 1/4 Blackfeet.
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"If you take a copy of the Christian Bible and put it out in the wind and the rain, soon the paper on which the words are printed will disintegrate and the words will be gone. Our bible IS the wind."
Statement by an anonymous Native American woman.
PostThu Apr 13, 2006 4:50 pm
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vincent

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Post subject: Reply with quote
What tribe?
Blackfoot/Siksika tribe here.
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NATIVE AMERICAN WISDOM
PostThu Apr 13, 2006 5:48 pm
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What a beautiful poem vincent, I'm a quarter cherokee indian....
PostFri Apr 14, 2006 4:47 am
vincent

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Post subject: Reply with quote
My Indian Pride was written by a Cherokee.

Teach Me
by Johnny Mott

I look around me and,
I find myself in deep thoughts.
Mother earth, the oldest of all creation,
teach me of the pain you felt.

Father sun up in the sky,
teach me of the seasons you made to change.
Wind, be the voice that I may hear,
in a gentle breeze or in the angry thunder.

Again I ask you oh father sun teach me,
of the things you saw your Native American
children do as you hung over the earth,
observing your children.

It has been told your native children,
honored, loved and respected you Mother Earth.
I sat in silence, watching and waiting for a voice,
perhaps the Spirit or Spirits of the native children.

The sound of silence was the only voice I heard,
then the wind spoke with a gentle breeze.
I started to understand I was going to perhaps,
receive the knowledge I ask for.

I prayed harder, teach me of your children,
of long ago Mother Earth.

"They Paid A Costly Price"
that is what the voice said,
You ask to be taught,
you showed patience.

The children starved,
grieved and were Slaughtered
by foreign invaders
of every walk of life.

There were times the clouds hung over
the children observing not giving me
Mother Earth a drink for I had rivers,
ponds and vast supplies of water in my chosen land.

There was a time the grass grew
due to the the Native people
gave to Mother Earth
in persecution.

Their Spirits can be heard in gentle breezes,
perhaps in the crayons, caves or in pain
from the angry thunder
or lightening in the sky.

Perhaps the seeds they planted when they
arrived has developed and is being harvested.
The children of the native people knew fear,
So do they today!

They saw native people slaughtered,
they see it now amongst their own people.
Mother earth your body is full
of those slain and aged.

The red clay soil you hold,
Could it be the markings of heavy flow?
Perhaps the seed did grow in the
soil of slain native people.

Now I close my eyes, darkness fills around me.
Thank you Mother Earth for teaching me.
One of the decedents of your native children,
for even in the darkness you let me see.

From: Pitter's Cherokee Trails
More links: rosecity.net/cherokee



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PostFri Apr 14, 2006 12:00 pm
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