"teepee" poems
teepee dwellers gather rounddancing flames, natures soundhappy hippies, beads and banglesvegan food but leather sandals save the earth, soap-dodgers pleadflower power, worship weedhate pollution, love the treeslove and peace, pure and free dreadlock strands, ***** handssymbolic signs from aeresol cansacrylic colours produced by manthe hairy eco paints his van van thats spews black filthy smokebalding tyres, handbrake brokesigns of peace and global gleeno wipers, tax, or m.o.t workin hippy knows the scoresummer paid by winters choremother earth their passion causeand some drive home in four by fours
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 1:15 PM UTC
SUMMER SUN
............................he walks the long beach
and is it's song
WARRIOR'S FIGHT
................muses from the cliff top
pondering "peace"
MOONLIGHT PEACE
...........................she is the mighty mistress
of the dance
DANCING BEAR
..................follows the swift stream
to its source
CREATION'S GLORY
...............awaits all the tribal youth
who want to learn
TOGETHER ALWAYS
........................watches all from
the council teepee
ah the tribe.....each one free!
no one named
TAX PAYER!
or
TEA BAG MAN!
or
STINKING ****** LIBERAL!
or
DITTO HEAD SHAM!
-----------
TRIBAL LOVE
not
TRIVIALITY
no
PATRIOTS!
just
YOU AND ME
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 10:28 AM UTC
we built a teepee in the woods out back,
hoping for a fortress where we could avoid
my parents' calls for us to come inside
and out of the pitch black of a tangled forest.
it wasn’t perfect – there was no hide
with which to cover it, decorated with
red and blue creatures of the earth, dancing
upon geometric patterns.
some of the branches we used to craft this teepee
stuck out, thin, pliable fingers
with budding leaves instead of nails, gently swaying
and conducting some silent melody in the breeze.
these branches were leaned in a circle, supporting each other
with circles of young, green sinew layered beneath their bark.
we bound them together at their peak, unwinding a ball of string
that would fray and disintegrate with every rainstorm.
we failed, also, to consider our chosen place for this Indian home.
rather than soft grass or spongy moss, we sat
uncomfortably and shifting, on layers of dirt
and dead, dry leaves, decaying beneath us
as we stared into a leafy ceiling,
framed and outlined by the gold sunlight,
before the fiery sky turned to purple and red, and
mosquitoes bit at our ankles, driving us from the forest
and into my home.
there we lay, staring up at glow-in-the-dark stickers
mimicking Orion and Ursa, Libra and Gemini,
on my plain and darkened ceiling.
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 3:15 PM UTC
Seven days spent lost in the rogue North
Octagonal windows framed a snowed in view.
In the kitchen, sun soaking in like honey,
The kids sat eating oranges.
Two cats humming and a sheepdog dozed
Under a thick maple table, flavoured as last nights fresh game
Lullabies deep as eyes were heavy
Fire stoked and a Mickey Mouse Christmas shining brightly,
playing cards, I laughed that it was just November.
Two sets of ice blue eyes, no blood in between.
And six sets, shades of green-blue-brown,
Each the nicest pair you'd ever seen.
I fell in love with the eight,
Always their eyes first I'll admit.
And now my heart lay in
A long house, teepee on the dock.
The purest cold blue I'd ever know
To crash upon iced rock.
All the trees you would ever need,
A conglomerate of green;
Until the day I die, the holiest place I've been
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I peer into the mirror
(Clean clear glass on silver
A porthole into backwards-land)
I see a certain spice in our swirling eyes
Absent in those of the lonely
Cloves and cinnamon and vanilla
It shrouds us in its heavy fog
(We don't mind, we see not much
Past each others' eyes)
In the mirror, our arms are tangled
In a comforting, swaddling mess
Our heads are leaned together (a teepee)
And our smiles stretch around the world
But the mirror shows us backwards.
(Reverse, opposite, inside out, and outside in)
And I know that really, you lean away from me and frown.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
It could have been a pleasant Monday.
We sat outdoors and ate our sandwiches.
It was crisp October, and we were on a dig.
Earlier, we had used the transit to measure
teepee rings from the nomad Cree tribe
that once lived and loved here.
You'd found the marker stones.
I'd found a stone tool.
But now we sit having lunch in the tepid sun.
I looked at you and saw a young man
who swaggered with false confidence.
You wore an army jacket,though we were just 16.
Your hair was red, and a little curly.
Your eyes melted me, -robin's egg blue.
I looked at your hands still holding the paper
and I saw between the freckles on your wrist
a blue vein.
Without ability to stop myself I touched you there.
And then my mind whirled.
For the first time-
suddenly, I was in your blood,
your heart, your mind!
You were just as jolted as I was,
and we have never been the same.
40 years later. We write on your birthday.
You ask about my mother.
Do you ever say my name?
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 2:01 AM UTC
july 16 2011
the air stuck to my skin,
clinging for life,
grasping for adhesion.
the cool, night air making minuscule mountains rise all across my arms.
we were far from alone,
yet all i could possibly be aware of was you.
feeling my head roll back onto the tweed, orange sofa, i looked up through the roof windows of the teepee.
i began to count and trace the stars,
only to steady my rapid heartbeat and abrupt breathing.
the breeze picks up and suddenly penetrates deep into my core,
sending out waves of shudders throughout my entire body.
shaking like a dandelion in a windstorm, you invite me closer and closer,
you can see the look of hesitation in my eye,
you understand it;
you feel it too.
ignoring your instincts, you envelop my frigid torso in your warm, big arms.
finally settling in, the others begin to disperse,
one by one,
until only we remained.
the beauty of this mid-july night was apparent,
and, all tucked away,
we laid there for hours
listening
intently
to the bullfrogs, to the crickets,
to the sound of the waves from the small lake kissing the shore, to the cool breeze mingling with the sweet warm summer air.
the morning crept along and we pulled each other
in and out
of the haze we created.
in the morning, it was cold again,
but i got only your jacket and a hushed
"don't tell".
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Yep what's in a name?
Mine is Joseph Francis Cole
Joseph for my father
Francis for his brother
Cole hahaha the surname of mothers first husband
Why? Cos I was born out of wedlock
Do I care no?
I heard a story once that when an American Indian child was born
The father would look out of the teepee and name the child
for the first thing he saw
Who the **** was stupid enough to name his son
White Dog ******* Under The Moon
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
I wasn't expecting
your B or your C game,
certainly not your J or K
or any other letters
in the alphabet, really,
except that one at the beginning:
looks like a pyramid with a perch,
isosceles triangle with bottom arisen,
traffic cone alerting to awesome ahead,
space shuttle tip to aerospace action,
an upside down V with a chin rest,
upward-pointing pencil tip,
2D teepee with a loft...
or your best
approximation.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
I only gave it to you
so one day
I could take it back.
The proverbial Indian
giver, I send out smoke signals,
I await in my teepee
poetry coming back.
Smoke signals from you.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Fear of living on
Natives getting restless now
Mutiny in the air
Got some death to do.
Mirror stares back hard
**** is such a friendly word
Seems the only way
For reaching out now
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
The old one,the wise man, a shaman
defies the tongue that speaks and ushers me
into a tent, a teepee
'See,
when the blue river of pain has crossed over the plain and we lie in the dust like all buffalo must,
it will end', he said,
let us tend to the dead,willing the spirit to fly,the old eyes saw it all and what was denied me before came quite clearly now,
how the wind would shift mountains and the eagles would cry as the people of peoples would die and yet live,be taken but give,
on the hill in the sun stands the shaman,the old one,the wise man and I am in mourning.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
we were
in bed
that day
when
there was a midday twilight
a daze crept over us
delicate
as a fast fog
it was the feeling of floating
a barely waking ecstasy
an unreal ethereal delirium
i cant describe it
it was
something
like nothing
ive ever felt before
in the belly of our canopy bed
in that forbidden flat
on a forever day
we laughed as she
pressed her head up
& pitched the draped overlay
wearing it
like a puffy white sombrero
as the
sun
filtered through
the linen cube glowed
a yellow shade
the two of us
waiting weightless
in this unearthly space
a monster teepee on a cloud
a sailboat in the sand
it all could have been
a heavenesque hallucination
but
for the fact that
she asked if i felt it too
i said i did
after she confessed
she had no words
to describe it
it was sublime
too simple
true
& it left by night
as we tucked in to watch movies
a mini projector hovering
images pressed against an endless cinema screen
almost as radiant
as our re-animation
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
\/
/\
/ \
/ \
::
Silence !
( it's Suffering time ! )
•
JUST KIDDING !
••
And when the SWEET ONE comes
It'll seem just like a young boy .......
••
Oh **** !
Here comes some ***** Hello Poetry babes !
RUN BOY RUN !
••
•
We need the shelter of the Forrest
Come
Sit with me
By the Rolling Waters
We need to hold each Child
And their precious Dream
In the arms of our unadulterated humility
Where each and every one is welcome
••
We need to know what we believe
And to believe in what we know
••
We need to seperate our false love
From the true celebration
And end our obsession with pain
••
We need to allow each child
A vision
Of the unfolding of DESTINY
••
We need to dare to climb THAT MOUNTAIN !
••
We need to SEE !
To see eachother
Not
As just an avenue
To our own satisfaction
But as the SWEETNESS come to the world
••
We need ( in short )
TO BE FREE
••
LOVE
Without fear
LOVE
without greed
LOVE
Without selfish intention
••
In the
TEEPEE
Before Dawn
•
All together
RITES OF PASSAGE
born again in understanding
Of the gift and the gift givers
Safely in eachother
Once again
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Fell asleep thinking about the old house yesterday
And the adventures in the backyard where I used to play
Three acres might seem like a lot for little kid
But I knew those woods better than my parents did
My wooden teepee served as a safe haven
When the world didn't feel like a suitable place to be in
I dreamed about Max my old best friend
Who kept me safe from nightly creatures and boogy men
Just a dog who still has a special place in my heart
A great dane who was five when the world made us part
I thought about the overlook where we dumped our leaves
I remembered the long days just me and the trees
These days those woods have Max and Phoenix too
The Golden retriever who got me and my sisters through
Much of that thing we call childhood
I didn't know it then but now I would
Give anything and everything to go back
And run wild through those backyard paths
Then I was free, I did not care or notice
That things weren't exactly how they were suppose to be noted
Now I reside in this fowl world where I can't spare a minute
Take me back to the time when my world had no limits
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
(
)
(
)
(
\/
/\
/ \
##
and in the fire
The teepee was not consumed
( such is simplicity )
///////
( such is truth )
//////
( such is humanity )
/////
( such is love )
••
In our youth we walked hand in hand
As we grew up we walked Eye in Eye
Now
Our hearts are One
////
Oh blessed seed
Let us be planted deep
For tomorrow's Child's sake
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
I think of all the air I’ve breathed
Happily ******* it in to the maximum, and then
That time he forced it down
Swallowed my “no” with his tongue
Both instances equally oxygenated
Why are the somber, sober selections always
unequivocally deeper in their loveliness
Scathing crisscross critique
Harsh words cannot dampen my fire
Hot and smoky I inhale
Steaming in this teepee from my fourth grade field trip
some re-creation of real civilization
absent was the metallic machinery
I long for stars brighter than
Plastic Hollywood
Ten and I convinced your mother I had died in a car crash
The first instance of my violent imagination
My conscience, sloth like, inverted blame
Like a sock turned inside out
I wished what I said was true
Years later I started the slow process of intentionally dying
Stupid girl I was. Unoriginal like the others
Only sewed up my holes. They asked me if I had a plan
Spitefully silent and still
I did not reply because I did not care to
The rolling hills of my temper
Emerged as I exited the binding comfort of my home
Young adulthood in all its glorious newness left me devoid
Of confidence in my ability to breathe on my own
Therapy and tablets forced me to care
Today I am high
I spew words
You don’t write poetry she says
Playing with words like string
It runs through my fingers, loose then taught, then a mess of tangle on the floor
As tied up as my tongue
Lapping up the air
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
I bet y'all thought I was white
Yeah I get it
I look white
I mean like yeah I'm kinda white but
I'm not white
If you want to know EXACTLY
I'm 47.5% Native American of the Susquehannock tribe.
There's also some middle eastern in there, but that's irrelevant.
My family, we were strong natives.
A town in Pennsylvania named Annville.
It's named after my Aunt Ann, who was the leader of her tribe.
All this and people are so quick to assume I'm some "white girl."
I still don't know what's worse though,
Being called *******
Or red skin.
Because they don't talk about what it's like when you don't look your ethnicity.
Then when you try explaining it to people... they laugh at you.
And tell you you're "touchy."
Or once again, just a "white girl."
When my friend dressed up as a quote on quote, Indian, for Halloween and I told her it was offensive, she scoffed and said, "but you're not even reeeeeally a Native American."
Cause when people look at me they think "white."
Sorry I don't put feathers in my braids and wear pelts of fur.
Do you want me to walk barefoot in the winter and sleep in a teepee?
We don't do that.
And you get the day off for Christopher Columbus? Cool.
He ***** our women and murdered our people. You know we were initially called Indians because he though we were India. He didn't find America...we did. But nice try.
And the Washington Redskins? I don't know if they're a good team or not, but god I hope they change their name because every time I hear it I feel like a piece of my heritage is slashed. But nobody realizes this. Do they?
People like to giggle behind my back when I defend my native side.
So when these people are having their outdoor weddings, or pool parties, or Fourth of July barbecues. I'm just going to do a little rain dance. See how much you're laughing then.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
Bubbles bound for breakers,
Sea salt snacky snakers,
Great gulp goldfish galleys,
Brown beard barnacles and reef rash rallies,
Abstract art, active angles,
Tingly teepee tension tangles,
Swimming so safety sound,
Newest navies so nobly nouned!
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 5:02 PM UTC
A passenger train simply known as the “EXPLORER”
It’s a departure with a long distance ride
Step aboard and recline as it’s the luxuries the passenger train will provide
Coach seats in just lean back and you are sitting in a recliner
What could be finer?
Besides the coach passenger cars
There are also sleepers
I call them Human Bed Folding Surprise
Because when you must use the toilet, the bed one must rise
However, our train is all glass
Elegance with name in having class
Scenery you will never miss
A new train adventure having a new twist
Mountains that will be close up
Tunnels going through mountains
The train getting waves from on-lookers as the train passes by
Majestic up close
Picture taking capturing the moment with a vacation to boast
Imagine, we will be travelling coast to coast
Station stop upon station stop
Views from every hill top
This passenger train that only a Writer would love
Writing detail oriented illustrations
A train that has its own Mirror Reflect
Adventure having a detect
As the signals meet the rails
A getaway that has no fail
It’s only rails that follow having a trail
The “EXPLORER” identification travels the rails like a guide
The sun even fades in the mountain ridges trying to hide
Indian Teepee’s with nothing but fun
Yet the “EXPLORER” can never be outdone
It’s the passenger experience in togetherness like family among
It’s only when we return at the conclusion of our trip, we will be totally done
As for the rate of this passenger train trip stands at Number One.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
The days move on as you have done.
You spoke so often of leaving, I had to have you gone.
Run little man, run away again.
It's what you know. That's a lifestyle? That's not a life.
Run little man, run to your teepee.
On the road to ruin... never again to see me.
I thought I was your friend. I was never your foe.
I loved you so dearly, you will never know.
Really your loss, you will someday discover - I was your friend truly, you'll never find another - Like me.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Brick barely coated in chipping white paint
Across from a theater with red crushed velvet seats
Green backyards & girls gripping beers
A beamed basement, home of the mountain boy
Not far from the teepee
Brown wood as dark as his ***
Ashy black woods where you gave me your sweatshirt
And my blue hair turned gold
Pale sun in bottles on his back porch
In the orange glow of early summer
Red blood drunkenly thrown away from a broken heart
And the saddest color I've ever seen
The color of something that could never be
The color of you and me
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
**I could hear my farther chanting,
As dusk starts to fall.
His haunting mellow prayer,
Asking the spirits, to forgive us all.
The light eyes with their thunder sticks,
The braves that killed their foe.
The land permanently scared;
Now many moons ago.
The rain starts to fall now,
As fathers chanting starts to fade.
The rain quenches the camp fire,
Wets the teepee's we have made.
Lying huddled in my bearskin,
Warm against the cold.
I look across at my mother,
Her beautiful face looking old.
Father gathers the rabbits,
Where once the buffalo roamed.
No one ever went hungry,
We all had homes of our own.
Spirit called back my sister,
Within her second year.
She had the breathing sickness,
We named her, "Sleeping Deer."
As the wind blows across the planes;
Chilling us to the bone.
We continue to Rome around the land,
No permanent place to call home.**
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC