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sunprincess Apr 2017
When I look upon
the beauty
of a Cherokee rose;
a marvelous
creation
of silky petals
and a Sun,
I see something
truly magnificent,
I see a world
of People
united,
not divided
humanity
standing together
at any cost,
where Beauty resides  
  and all is not lost,
A peaceful world
of no more death
and no more war,
where love is love
and peace is peace,
and alas, my visions
of world peace
and one love
infuse me with hope
whenever I look upon
a beautiful flower
known as a Cherokee Rose
xoxo
Ron Sparks May 2016
You've been here before.  You woke up today and realized that the stress, the angst, and the foreboding that you've allowed to rule your life is there by choice.  You've gotten lost in the spiral of anxiety, again.

If it's not your health, it's your money.  If it's not the money, it's your kids.  If it's not your kids, you're worried about past life choices and how they will affect you tomorrow.  Your fears line up at the door, wrap around the block, and await their turn.  Your door is open to them all and you don't deny them.  You let them in.  

Once they are inside, you wrap your fears around you.  They’re a welcome smothering; a wearying security blanket of trembling phobia.  They are as familiar to you as they are distressing.  These constant, restless, companions are more comfortable than the unknown.  

Today, though, you stare at the line of fears and realize that something is missing.  Happiness.  Contentment.  Acceptance.  These are conspicuous in their absence.  And you remember an old Cherokee tale.  You have two wolves engaged in eternal battle inside you; one is fear and anxiety and the other is peace and serenity.  The strongest is the one you feed and you've been feeding the wrong wolf.  

You've done this your entire life in a self-centered, selfish, guilt-ridden, indulgent, fashion.  You wallow in the darkness because you're afraid you don't deserve the light.

You know you’ll feed the right wolf today.  But can you do it tomorrow?  

  mighty river;
the fish navigates
​as it will
Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal.
Kitts Apr 2015
I am
not a
true racist...
I am
a culturist...
I do
not like
certain...cultures...
Even though
that culture
is my
own....
Kitts Apr 2015
I sometimes curse in Cherokee

ᎪᎳᎩᏂᎨᏒᎾ means stupid
ᏗᎦᎵᏯᏅᎯᏛ mean donkey
Just add them together
It means stupid ***

ᎤᏗᏆᎸᏕᏯᏛ means *****
ᏂᎯ means you
Just add them together
It means ***** you

ᎧᎵᏬᎯ means perfect
ᎪᎳᎩᏂᎨᏒᎾ means idiot
just add the two together
it means perfect idiot

I love to create insults in Cherokee
My Grandfather would be so proud of me
I love it, it's so addicting
Why don't you try it? You might like the way they taste
Kitts Apr 2015
Light weight, black glossy, perfection
You must hold such a weapon with confidence
Slender black arrows with green feathers
Bundled in the fine homemade black leather quiver
The silver steel tips made to ****
Sunlight playing peak a boo
With the shadows all around you
The ancient trees look down upon you
The wind picks up and gently plays with your hair
You breathe in the familiar smell
Of the ancient forest you call home
You haven't caught an a-wi in days
What will the hungry little ones do?
You see a flash of movement and you freeze
Draw a single arrow from the quiver on your back
Without a sound you take your position
Silently with practiced ease you aim and fire
You hear the death cry of the animal you have shot
Swiftly you run to were the cry came
There lays the plumpest most beautiful a-wi you have seen in moons
Thanking the a-wi with the words you were taught as a child
"Thank you dear sister/brother for giving your life so that my family could continue to live theirs"
With the sacred whisper you end the a-wi's pain with a quick slice from your blade
Smiling and whispering you’re thanks to the Great Spirit
You run as fast as you can to get the villages warrior braves
You are small but you are part of the Tsa-la-gi
Therefore you are never alone
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community

I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan

We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it

I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag

She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew

When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them

So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving

Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Je tricote avec de la laine rouge (the ember from my daugther, Noelle)
Cherokee Nation was ******
From their way of life
Their blades and knives
Were banned and their wives.....

Cherokee Justice I will ask
Where is the saneness to this life
So proud to live and so sad
And death welcome to those so bad ...

Took their way of life
Turned them to shirts and ties
Took their way to live
As their young still cries....

Their Mother town given by the creator
Just one drop of blood to each
Each one important as the last
Cherokee, all was taken but not the past ...

I have Cherokee in my blood
So proud to say
With the flashback of their lives
They Cant take that Away....

Debbie Brooks 2014
I am proud to say this poem won gold on ALL POETRY...
They are a proud people and I am so proud...
Native American Indian Tribute by tony sercia
Tribute to the Native American Indians,write a poem honoring them,the pain they went through,and the joy of there life.below is a list of tribes pick one and write a poem or tale you think that would honor them

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