Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
prairiegrass dreams

Across the Sandhills
wading into the untamed Niobrara
barebacked.. brown,  and beautiful

Within her Misty Mountain dreams
she is heading my way.
Ah, sweet lord God almighty,
look at her go..

Westbound,  she is best-found

    right there..  on the edge
    of these dreams of my own

Oh my lord..
look at that beautiful horsedream  go
Will I be able to survive her..

  I don't know
.  .  .  

You feel him..  don't you, sweet one..
my beautiful Snickers
on that Gordon, Nebraska hill--
his home,  his birthplace..

Until his beautiful spirit
one day..  finally found me

Striated and stoic
he is waiting for you..
To bring, you
the rest of the way home.

North now,  into Dakota
as you bleed  
with the Lakhóta
on a trail,  split

   between Pine Ridge..
   and Wounded Knee.

Feel your war-torn  Spirit
melt  in to them
(you will not fall)

As you ride this black-maned  dream
just a bit further North..
towards a man, named Paul

Within my own,  I can feel you both

Ah hell, babe..
I can feel you all


hold on to your dream of this dream..
remember every-thing
https://youtu.be/fqCGidfNG0M


Rough draft, this feels inadequate
to the picture I want to convey.
His likeness is in the sixth frame shown,
and again, between the two  of her;

His eyes.. in the two, up close.
You will not go lonely

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3369599/snickers-on-a-hill/
xoxo
I've been wandering around, like a waltzing matilda.
From Fife in the lowlands, to the cliffs of St. Kilda.
Carrying my life, and all that it wills
Appalachia and plains, to the mighty Black Hills.
Trekking so far, exploring the Earth
Miles away, from the place of my birth.

From the land of the Scots, to the land of the Sioux
From familiar homes, to the places so new.
I'm wandering around, with so much to do.
In the land of the Gaels, to the land of Lakota,
I'm slinging around, like a waltzing matilda.
Lately, I've been trying to find a way to celebrate both my Highlander and Lakota ancestry, and I decided to try writing a poem about it. I hope you all like it
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.

Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.

*

Tashunka Witko of the Lakota Sioux, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.

Published by American Indian Pride and Boston Poetry Magazine



"We Came Together" was written as song lyrics for New Zealand composer David Hamilton.

We Came Together
by Michael R. Burch

We came together – people of two lands
so unalike, at first, we hardly knew
how to be friends. We went to war, and drew

lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue
for everyone, and big enough to share.
We came together, and our friendships grew.

We had to learn to share the selfsame air,
to find the path to harmony,
to find some common ground and let peace bloom.
We came together and we gave hope room

to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be
together in our common destiny.

We come together – people of many lands
so unalike, at first, and now we know
how to be friends.

Keywords/Tags: song, song lyrics, music, composer, diversity, understanding, tolerance, common ground, multiracial, friends, friendship



We Come Together, Holding Hands (I)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch



We Come Together, Holding Hands (II)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

We sing together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We sing together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We sing together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch



i wrote a giddy little song
by michael r. burch

i wrote a giddy little song,
which u can dance to, all night long;
i wrote a giddy little poem,
it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam;
i wrote a giddy little line,
it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion;
I wrote a song and took the trouble,
it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble;
i wrote this giddy bit of fluff,
now dance to it, get off ur duff!

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Sioux Vision Quest
by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux, circa 1840-1877
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A man must pursue his Vision
as the eagle explores
the sky's deepest blues.

Originally published by The HyperTexts
CarolineSD Jul 2019
How many long years did I spend with you,
Lakota Oyate?
Though Wasicu skinned, wearing the paleness of imperial greed,
The reverberant beating of ceremonial drums
Caused my heart to bleed
Rivers of blood,
Tears that I shed,
Soaking the sagebrush and sorrow-laden plains
Inside the hollows of my bones.

Tiyospaye, you are always.

Pilamaya, always and forever.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

Lakota Oyate, you raised me,
A rootless, tender-hearted girl,
Kicking up the dust on some
Empty reservation road.

Lost, but found
In your kindness.

Tiwahe, when I had none.

I filled my plate at your tables, Wojapi and thickened breads,
The laughter of the wild-hearted children
Ringing through the stars like the songs of rainbow-chested prairie birds.

Little takojas, how you grasped my hands and claimed me.
How clearly I can hear them calling, “auntie, auntie, come play!”

And so, the people of the river, below the plains of Standing Rock,
I love you, thechihila,
Forever.

My little children will forever walk in kindness and humility
Because of the values you raised in them;
Because you drew them in as if they were your own blood,
Because you sewed vibrant ribbons on their shirts
As if they belonged in their humanness,
In their innocence,
To your great nation.

Lakota Oyate, I can never repay you for the way your heartbeat

Saved me.

Prayed for me.

Pilamaya Wopila,
Always and forever.
Fifteen years on a reservation in South Dakota. I will never forget. The people raised and healed me in so many ways. In so many ways, it is home.

Wasicu - White Man
Oyate - Nation
Tiyospaye - Family/Clan
Pilamaya - Thank you
Tiwahe - Family
Wojapi - Berry soup
Takoja - Grandchild
Thechihila - I love you.
Skaidrum Feb 2018

Full Lakota moon,
unzips me from her womb &
dismantles this love.
Of the haiku series
iii. spells

© Copywrite Skaidrum
settlers came to the frontier lands
holding guns in their seizing hands
the tribal people's tears and blood
fell on the earth in a torrential flood*

they'd been dispossessed of terrain
so lasting was the anguishing pain
their ancient grounds ceded away
to the occupier's colonizing sway

the Indians of the vast Dakota plains
had a culture under great strains
the foot-print put down by forebears
was nearly lost like the brown bears

yet the spirit of the tribes still survive
in their ancestral territory it's alive
they've a heritage enduring of flow
*which is seen in the sun's risen glow
Robert C Howard Aug 2013
High atop the mountain
a boy crouched alone in the vision pit – waiting.
Raising his red stone pipe to the four directions
he sent clouds of willow bark smoke
skyward toward his ancestors.

Naked beneath his star blanket he wept a man’s cry –
crying for a vision to come
that his people might live!
Chanting with eyes fast shut he waited and prayed.

First came the cries of the wind,
then the whisper of trees.
Birds swooped and circled about him.
He shook his rattle crying,
“Tunkashila, grandfather spirit, help me.”

A voice spoke in the call of a bird,
“Your sacrifice will make you
Wikasa Wakan, medicine man.
We are the winged ones and we are your brothers.”


In a swirling cloud his great, grandfather came and spoke,
blood dripping from the hole
where a white soldier’s bullet had found his chest,
“You will take my name, Tahka Ushte, Lame Deer.”
The new man on the mountain rejoiced.

Quietly entering the vision pit,
kind Old Chest placed a hand on Lame Deer’s shoulder,
“Four days have passed, it is time.”
and led Tahka Ushte down to the valley.

*June, 2006
Included in Unity Tree, published by Create Space available from Amazon.com in both book and Kindle formats.
《☆ Ode to Miller Spring ☆》

I have traveled this road.
I have traveled this road since
first I came to be here.
This journey was
my awakening to the
new existence I would step into.

Foreign to me
the illustrious homes.
Dripping willows, old oaks, poplars...
Perfectly kept grounds.
Checkerboard patterns carved
into lush grass.

This road is winding.
One needs to go slowly.
Families, children, animals, 
all enjoy this path.

The winds blow at this highest point,
up above the Glacial Basin
that forms the river below.
Before farmland,
home to
Ojibwe,
Lakota.

The Spring
The deep Spring of Healing
Ancient, pouring forth
from the center of the Earth.

This road, brought me to a
place of solitude...
An open space.
Land of possibilities.

I have traveled this road. 
I have traveled this road
since first I came to be here.
This road has led me to the new existence
I have stepped into.

Perfectly kept grounds
checkerboard patterns carved
in lush grass.

The wind blows at this
highest point,
up above the Glacial Basin,
that forms the river below.
Before farmland,  
home to
Ojibwe,
Lakota.

The Spring
The deep Spring of Healing.
Ancient, pouring forth from
the center of the Earth.
This Spring, that quenched
my family's thirst.
This Spring, that pulled my
people here,
so many years ago.

A road brought me to
this place of solitude.
An open space.
A land of Dreams.

I wonder,
what Dreams,
this land
will hold for me?

☆●⊙●☆●⊙●☆●⊙●☆
~July 2014~May 2015~
2nd Edition
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.

"Miller Spring" is a pure crystalline-rock aquifer that has been revered by all peoples blessed to live within it's reach. The tribes of the Ojibwe and Lakota shared the spring. It was called the "Sweet Spring of Healing Waters" This spring was also shared with Settlers as they arrived. When the land was owned, the spring has always been made accessible, to All People. It should be noted that this spring water is exceptionally clear,
crisp and has a sweet bright taste
It is delicious!
To this day Miller Spring is available to all.
It's icy cold waters gush forth 24/7~365
days a year out of a well by the side
of the road, down about a mile
from my home.

I actually live in a modest house
on two original acres of this
beautiful land, which is now
bordered by five "illustrious" homes.
We moved here from the
City in the year 2000
Living in the suburbs was the
"New Existence" I had stepped into...
Next page