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Author: Inkybro
ASL Info:    17/M/Oklahoma
Elite Ratio:    3.33 - 55 /69 /39
Words: 128
Class/Type: Poetry /
Total Views: 971
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 866


Wrote this while inspired by my newfound fascination with Native Americans.


A feather is falling
Through skies of red
The sun is now setting
The day is now dead
On cliff-edge I sit
Wittling all this wood
Thinking of the music
I've yet to let loose
Behind me a bear comes
And stops in his tracks
He sits down beside me
And grunts and he laughs
My hand pats his shoulder
Broad; covered in hair
He comes in, now, closer
And speaks what we share
"This nature, this life,
This death, this strife,
This land, the womb,
These trees, the tomb"
He stands up beside me
And points to the sun
"See, when we get that,
That's when we've won"
And with that he turns
And walks far away
And I sit here bewildered
Without a thing to say

Submitted on 2007-12-10 10:19:28     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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1: >_<
2: I dunno...
3: meh!
4: Pretty cool
5: Wow!


  Nature is wiser than we humans who do not appreciate its beauty or do enough to conserve its resources for the generations to come. It's amazing what you can hear when you're quiet and still in a forest or on a mountainside.

Yes, I do really like this poem. It's going in my favs.

One spelling change: Whittling for line 6

:-) Sharon
| Posted on 2007-12-10 00:00:00 | by Peggy Paris | [ Reply to This ]

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