POETRY SUBMISSIONS page 2
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FOREVER GONE--
Saga of the Native American.
Oh my people,where have they gone?
They have descended into the land of the ancestors.
We are surrounded by a great white wall,
always taking until there is no place left for us to go.
Never again will there be any great leaders
to stop the growing wall and restore us to our freedom.
Where have they gone? Where have they gone?
Once we were a mighty race,and dwelt upon this continent.
To the North,where it is always winter,
to the lands of grandfather sun in the south,
and to the coasts of the mighty waters,
this land was once ours,
and now we are but a few islands surrounded by a sea of whites.
Where now are the Susquehanna, the Pequots, the Calusas
and many other mighty nations who once lived.
Only the mountains and the rivers bear their names
and the land gives testimony that these nations once existed.
The spirits of the ancestors shall forever more dwell upon the Earth.
Where have they gone?
We greeted the newcomers in love,fed him,clothed him,
and showed him how to survive in our world.
We clasped him by the hand in friendship and helped him to become rooted.
Soon the wall turned on us and took more and more of our lands
until there was nothing left,and placed us where
there was only misery and death.
Locked within the grasps of this mighty white wall,
our people startedto die, like the falling leaves
of a tree in the autumn,how our people died.
Our lands now taken, this wall destroys our very lives.
Our spirits crushed, our culture and way of life gone,
our beliefs shattered to the winds, those of us who survive
are but a mere shadow of what we once were.
My heart is broken and lies upon the ground, my spirit has fled,
and my soul longs to be with the ancestors----forever gone.
Written by
Jim Powell
Poala@webtv.net
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE SUSQUEHANNA----
Through The Midst of Time
On a clear day, as i walk the fields looking
for remnants of long lost tribes who once lived life here,
but now slumber, i wonder if i will find any stone tools
of those long ago magnificent people.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, out of the corner of my eye,
i catch the glimps of a shiny black stone, barely protruding
to the surface. As i walk to the spot and kneel down
to loosen the stone, i begin to pull and out comes
a beautiful black spear point.
In my excitment, i walk to the nearest tree and sit beneath
it's shade to ponder on the maker of this point.
As i briefly close my eyes, i am transported back
through the mist of time. When i again open my eyes,
next to me is an old man sitting in front of his bark wigwam,
ancient as the stones from which he is flaking his spear points.
As i gaze in wonder, i see the fine black point i have just found,
lying on a tanned deer skin hide next to him,
with many other fine points he has crafted.
Though he can not see me or hear me, he senses my presence,
awe and wonder and quietly speaks to my mind,
answering "our survival is dependent upon the hunt and through trade.
Our stone points are quickly worn because of constant use
and our people barter the stone points in trade with other nations
along the river, for goods we do not have but need".
As i gaze high upon the knoll overlooking the Susquehanna river,
there is a cluster of bark wigwams and long houses,
with smoke from the cooking fires drifting up through the
smoke holes into the wind. Women are tanning hides, cooking and
making pots from clay deposits found in the river.
Children are playing, swimming and fishing in the Susquhanna.
Hunters return from the forest carrying a deer straped to a pole.
Many are the scenes of wonder. I close my eyes briefly and upon waking,
i am again sitting beneath the shade of the tree,
with the spearpoint in my hand,next to an empty cornfeild-----
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE SUSQUEHANNA.
Written by
Jim Powell
Poala@webtv.net
"Hardening Hearts"
They started out with an ambition.
Untainted love was their mission.
They thought their bond would surely hold strong.
Then came the storms of life,they were thrown.
Tossed about by hatred and wrath.
No looking back on this beaten path.
Their love had faded, without a trace.
Hardening hearts,they would embrace.
How did this happen? What went wrong?
They lost the love. They lost their song.
When you lose sight of what really matters.
You fall apart and your whole world shatters.
May this example be a lesson to all.
Never look down. For surely you'll fall.
Written by
Michelle Sneed
QCleopatra@webtv.net
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