Longhouse of Poetry ᐋᐦᐋᓯᐤ ᐅᑭᑐᐃᐧᐣ
This page is dedicated to feature the mosaic of poetry and musings that not only reflect Indigenous culture; but the eclectic style and genre Mann has so brilliantly shared through the years.
Moccasins
I Found an old pair of Moccasins,
They were the perfect size for my Feet,
And when I put them on,
They Shook & started to Speak.
I had so many Questions,
That I did not let them Talk,
But I had a good Feeling,
The Real Message will be in My Walk.
They live their life,
Always touching Mother Earth,
So they Never Forget,
Who gave them Birth.
Were these Moccasins worn by a,
Woodland, Smoke,
Or, Jingle Dress Dancer?
They look like they’ve traveled many Paths,
This Journey will reveal the Answer.
I noticed on them,
Small scars and marks,
Perhaps Sweat,
From Sacred Rocks,
Or maybe Uncle Henry,
As he carved,
A Cedar Box.
These Mocs’ could have been Auntie Laura’s,
Sharing all those Legends & Scary Things,
Inspiring the Story Teller:
Turn these Moccasins to Feathers,
& Escape on Black Wings!
Were they on the feet of great Uncle Sampson?
He was known for his Handmade Baskets and Carved Bows,
He made a living Selling them to White People,
As he stood by the side of the Road.
They said he was the Kindest Man,
Took all the kids Spear Fishing every June,
And perhaps he left behind these Moccasins,
Because alcohol killed him too soon.
These could have been Grandma Lucy’s,
Worn as she gathered Dandelion Roots.
She died a Month before I was born,
At 5, I a wore Grandpas’ Boots.
Those Snow Shoes were too big for me,
I fell and hit my Eye,
Grandpa picked me Up,
& rocked me by his Side.
The Scar is still there,
And I am thankful for the Time,
After all that’s happened,
I think these Moccasins are mine.
©thecrows2017
I Found an old pair of Moccasins,
They were the perfect size for my Feet,
And when I put them on,
They Shook & started to Speak.
I had so many Questions,
That I did not let them Talk,
But I had a good Feeling,
The Real Message will be in My Walk.
They live their life,
Always touching Mother Earth,
So they Never Forget,
Who gave them Birth.
Were these Moccasins worn by a,
Woodland, Smoke,
Or, Jingle Dress Dancer?
They look like they’ve traveled many Paths,
This Journey will reveal the Answer.
I noticed on them,
Small scars and marks,
Perhaps Sweat,
From Sacred Rocks,
Or maybe Uncle Henry,
As he carved,
A Cedar Box.
These Mocs’ could have been Auntie Laura’s,
Sharing all those Legends & Scary Things,
Inspiring the Story Teller:
Turn these Moccasins to Feathers,
& Escape on Black Wings!
Were they on the feet of great Uncle Sampson?
He was known for his Handmade Baskets and Carved Bows,
He made a living Selling them to White People,
As he stood by the side of the Road.
They said he was the Kindest Man,
Took all the kids Spear Fishing every June,
And perhaps he left behind these Moccasins,
Because alcohol killed him too soon.
These could have been Grandma Lucy’s,
Worn as she gathered Dandelion Roots.
She died a Month before I was born,
At 5, I a wore Grandpas’ Boots.
Those Snow Shoes were too big for me,
I fell and hit my Eye,
Grandpa picked me Up,
& rocked me by his Side.
The Scar is still there,
And I am thankful for the Time,
After all that’s happened,
I think these Moccasins are mine.
©thecrows2017
Who We Are
1.
We are the Wampum Belt-
Open at both Ends –
Still
Weaving Our Story.
We are the Sacred Drum.
That- Resilient Beat-
Pulsating
Within Mother Earth.
We are the 7th Fire-
Ignited by our past -Carrying the
Light
For our Future.
We are the Cedar Basket,
Sewn from the Roots of the Universe-
Forever
Expanding Our Spirit.
2.
We are the Survivors
& Revivers.
The Relations of the Forest-
& Educated by the Sun.
We Rise- like the sturdy Green Cornfields -
That Kiss the Cranberry Dawn.
We are the Deep Red Ocean-
Flowing within the Arteries -
Of Turtle Island.
3.
And-Yes.
We Swam through the Blood Soaked Tears-
Traversed the Wave over 500 Years.
The Unmarked Graves have Scarred our Dreams-
Long Walks & Trails- across the Icy Streams.
Those Boarding Schools and Reservations-
Malefic Schemes to encourage Limitations.
Mountains of Pain Shielded by a Smile-
Sometimes Surviving - means living in Denial.
Lethal Storms- Rain down like Shattered Glass,
Broken like Treaties – Amnesia of the Past.
Hair & Language- detached by foreign Hands-
But they both Return –as should Usurped Lands .
Our History & Journey-
Carved from a Shell-
They do Not spill Oil-
Only Mark our Life’s Trail.
The tribe of Human Beings -is Who we Are-
Because all of us, Revolve around the Same Star.
A Ceremony of Condolence –Is how We All Must Begin-
This is life’s Round Dance – a Circle with no End.
Larry Spotted Crow Mann ©
(Untitled)
I waited until the last song played, to ask you to dance.
I looked at you from across the ballroom.
My entire Soul was in my Eyes.
The last bit of moonlight pooled on the floor between us.
Like a mellifluous ivory path, leading me to your arms.
The large picture window, invited in all the Stars.
Yes, Those Stars. The ones I shared a thousand secrets to,
& beholding of such splendor I could never grow weary, gazing upon their magnificence.
They always reminded me of You.
& that Night in the ballroom –
They danced around you like Garlands of Fire; Being the mantle for your Beauty & Elegance.
My throat was dry.
So Nervous.
My feet strained to move near,
Lest you disappear, like mist before the rising Dawn.
My own Fears brought the Clouds.
The Moon & Stars took a bow,
& retreated into the Night.
It started to Rain.
The intense whipping drops along the window pane, strode to the beat of my Heart.
I could hardly see you now.
I did not realize we were the only two left in the hall.
You called out to me.
Your voice echoed through the pounding Rain,
& resuscitated my Balance.
I found You.
You found me.
The Rain filled my Eyes.
I said, “I waited for the last song to ask you to dance. But the music has stopped. Everyone is gone.”
You said, “Then we shall dance to the rain.”
We danced.
The showering drops collided with the widows, roof and walls.
The Sound was like a grand applause.
©Larry Spotted Crow Mann
Untitled
She curves All Light in a Circle.
Star Bender.
Fire Shaper.
The Edge of Her Ribs.
Cradle of Life.
Breasts pour forth, the Milky Way.
She Is Nourisher of Quietness & Sound.
The Breath of Illumination.
The Gift of Dream.
Together, They are 13.
I slowly rose from the Tall Grass.
It was like a Green Sea, as far as I gazed.
Cottonwood snow danced, swirled, about on the Wind.
Divided They are 7.
Fear Was in my Hands.
She held them.
She said, “Look.”
She Silences the Wind.
She Silences the Silence.
She Reveals the Beauty of One Altar.
I inquired of Her,
“How Far does this Go?”
Her Smile was Immeasurable.
My Heart was Glad,
For I knew,
There was Nothing else to Do.
lsm©
She curves All Light in a Circle.
Star Bender.
Fire Shaper.
The Edge of Her Ribs.
Cradle of Life.
Breasts pour forth, the Milky Way.
She Is Nourisher of Quietness & Sound.
The Breath of Illumination.
The Gift of Dream.
Together, They are 13.
I slowly rose from the Tall Grass.
It was like a Green Sea, as far as I gazed.
Cottonwood snow danced, swirled, about on the Wind.
Divided They are 7.
Fear Was in my Hands.
She held them.
She said, “Look.”
She Silences the Wind.
She Silences the Silence.
She Reveals the Beauty of One Altar.
I inquired of Her,
“How Far does this Go?”
Her Smile was Immeasurable.
My Heart was Glad,
For I knew,
There was Nothing else to Do.
lsm©
Grass Dance for our Father
I wrote this poem in honor of a young man who lost his father. The young man is a Native American Grass Dancer. I was blessed to be there when he did a Ceremonial Grass Dance in memory of his Dad.
We Dance for our Fathers.
My Footsteps leap, pound & wander,
Like my Heart, across the Sacred Circle.
At the Center,
The Fire smolders, then crackles like Thunder.
I stride, bow and spin,
Like Swirling Smoke & Flame,
Igniting my Prayers into the Sky.
My Moccasins, sweep across the Earth,
With silken dexterity,
My Fringe flutters, & Bells Resonate,
To the Harmony of the Four Winds.
Father -Sun above, illuminates my every motion.
I firmly close my eyes,
Breathe- In, the Light,
Healing my Scars,
That Dance along the edge of my Shadow.
Sweat and Tears,
Bounce off my Flesh,
Nourishing,
The Earth beneath my Feet,
As the Sacred Drum, transforms my Pain, into Life.
Memories of You,
Flowing down, like Gentle Morning Rain.
Like a Blade of Grass,
I Cling to Every Drop, every moment of You,
The Tender & the Sharp
And I will dance for you Father.
Trying to smooth the Earth,
To Ease,
This Path,
I must now, walk without You
But I know I am not alone
For it is this Circle, that takes me to You.
& the Rebirth that grows, when I look in my child’s eyes.
& to know Creator says, that there are no Goodbyes.
We will be together again someday,
In that Powwow in the Sky.
I Dance, for- You- Father.
I Pivot & Sway, as the Honor Beat Holds me,
Tells me, where my Feet need to Be.
It is my Story I Share,
Rooted in the Grass,
Rooted, In this Path,
Which you taught me so Well.
I bend my arms & crouch my Body.
Lean my head, toward the Stars.
Two Eagle Feathers, aiming out into the Universe.
Connecting to You,
Connecting, to All of Creation.
In this Space, Words are not needed.
There is Only Love.
©Larry Spotted Crow Mann
I wrote this poem in honor of a young man who lost his father. The young man is a Native American Grass Dancer. I was blessed to be there when he did a Ceremonial Grass Dance in memory of his Dad.
We Dance for our Fathers.
My Footsteps leap, pound & wander,
Like my Heart, across the Sacred Circle.
At the Center,
The Fire smolders, then crackles like Thunder.
I stride, bow and spin,
Like Swirling Smoke & Flame,
Igniting my Prayers into the Sky.
My Moccasins, sweep across the Earth,
With silken dexterity,
My Fringe flutters, & Bells Resonate,
To the Harmony of the Four Winds.
Father -Sun above, illuminates my every motion.
I firmly close my eyes,
Breathe- In, the Light,
Healing my Scars,
That Dance along the edge of my Shadow.
Sweat and Tears,
Bounce off my Flesh,
Nourishing,
The Earth beneath my Feet,
As the Sacred Drum, transforms my Pain, into Life.
Memories of You,
Flowing down, like Gentle Morning Rain.
Like a Blade of Grass,
I Cling to Every Drop, every moment of You,
The Tender & the Sharp
And I will dance for you Father.
Trying to smooth the Earth,
To Ease,
This Path,
I must now, walk without You
But I know I am not alone
For it is this Circle, that takes me to You.
& the Rebirth that grows, when I look in my child’s eyes.
& to know Creator says, that there are no Goodbyes.
We will be together again someday,
In that Powwow in the Sky.
I Dance, for- You- Father.
I Pivot & Sway, as the Honor Beat Holds me,
Tells me, where my Feet need to Be.
It is my Story I Share,
Rooted in the Grass,
Rooted, In this Path,
Which you taught me so Well.
I bend my arms & crouch my Body.
Lean my head, toward the Stars.
Two Eagle Feathers, aiming out into the Universe.
Connecting to You,
Connecting, to All of Creation.
In this Space, Words are not needed.
There is Only Love.
©Larry Spotted Crow Mann
Beyond Words
When the Vibrations of Emotions Transcend Words.
How can they Form?
They have to take new Shapes and Meanings.
A language, deciphered by the Soul.
Interpretations,
Guided by our Heroes and Saints-
Who have been molded from our Disappointments.
They are Nourished with our Fears,
Drink up our Tears.
A Fasting of Pain.
As we Starve for the Love of Mystery.
Too much Light,
As we burn everything we Touch.
Shades of enduring leaves,
Extend & dampen the Flame.
They are the companions of the Night.
Ripples of Stone,
Like Wedges in the Soul.
The Shelves, we build in our Heart.
Some buried under fading leaves,
Some crumble, to the Touch,
Others, too heavy to Grasp.
And those on the Bottom,
Rise through the tender Cracks.
For those who came here without Love.
For those who were Forgotten.
For those who never Danced.
Or forgot how to Smile…
Sensations will Multiply,
When Worth is not measured in Flesh.
©lsm
Selfie at a Funeral
This is such a beautiful tree,
Weaved so divinely into Momma Earth.
Each large leaf above, waved goodbye.
The Sun kept the lights on,
For a little while.
The Wind turned us in the same direction.
Tears were going up into the clouds.
I wanted everyone to see This.
I could not resist.
I went to take out my phone.
It slipped through my hands.
It slipped through my hands.
It slipped through my hands.
It Went through my hands.
©lsm
And What is Death?
When the agents of despair, illness or old age,
Have gathered in a cause to embarrass me before the world?
No.
I will not be sad.
Even though they mock me,
I will be glad.
For they shall be the wood carriers to ignite my eternal flame,
That I may break out of this body, that is far too small to bear witness to the beauty of All Creation.
Yes, with that spark my spirit shall Fly,
I will traverse the Stars-
& have a Powwow in the Sky.
Then I saw splendid, High Green Forest.
Near a shimmering crystal lake,
The magnificence was intense,
My flesh had no more aches.
When the Sun shined over the top of that Oak Tree:
That same Moment,
The White Headed Bird Greeted Me.
For the Universe is now my Circle.
©lsm
Cherry Blossoms
Cherry Blossoms splash the Sky,
With Honey Rays,
& Moonlit Butterflies,
Dancing,
Over the Glowing Gentle Waters.
Coldness is absent in this Place,
For I am warm, as a thousand Suns.
The Bitter Thorns have gathered to poison the Night-
But I remain Calm.
If I breathe like the Wind,
Then I shall never Die.
If my Blood is the Ocean-
Then I shall Remain to be Nourished.
If my Heartbeat is like Thunder-
Than you shall always Hear my Voice.
When the Bitter Thorns return,
May my flesh be as Rice Paper –
And my Bones,
Like Ethereal Stone-
That They, may find no comfort –or quarter.
My weary Eyes have witnessed this Horror-
Like an endless Black Sea-
Where millions of Tears,
have drained into this chasm of Thorns.
That is when my Soul is beckoned to Cherry Blossom Skies-
With Honey Rays,
& Moonlit Butter Flies,
Dancing,
Over the Glowing Gentle Waters.
The Sweet Wind,
Carries me to the Lotus Mountain,
& my Heart Takes Form.
I still Believe.
FREE TIBET
©lsm
Crow
(In His Own Words)
I am the Crow, Mystical as the Moon ,
& Dark as the Night,
Traversing through the Spirit World
On Shadow Wings of Flight.
Some have feared my Murky Hue,
Even called it a Curse,
But the Dimness of my Feathers,
Binds me to the Universe.
The Sun that you seek,
Is Beauty we cannot hide,
The Glowing of my Feathers,
Reflects the Light inside.
I am the product of the Dream World,
Transformed by Creator’s Gift,
Sometimes Bird, Sometimes Man.
The Ability to Shape–shift.
The things I Foresee, Have Powerful Distinctions,
Like Earth, Fire, and Sky,
Guiding me to the Visions.
My Family Ties are Eternal and Strong,
Tight as a row of Corn,
Loving and Sharing with One Another,
From the moment, we are Born.
My words have been misunderstood – Sometimes, mistaken for a Caw,
But if you listen with your Heart: I am speaking Creator’s Law.
©lsm
(In His Own Words)
I am the Crow, Mystical as the Moon ,
& Dark as the Night,
Traversing through the Spirit World
On Shadow Wings of Flight.
Some have feared my Murky Hue,
Even called it a Curse,
But the Dimness of my Feathers,
Binds me to the Universe.
The Sun that you seek,
Is Beauty we cannot hide,
The Glowing of my Feathers,
Reflects the Light inside.
I am the product of the Dream World,
Transformed by Creator’s Gift,
Sometimes Bird, Sometimes Man.
The Ability to Shape–shift.
The things I Foresee, Have Powerful Distinctions,
Like Earth, Fire, and Sky,
Guiding me to the Visions.
My Family Ties are Eternal and Strong,
Tight as a row of Corn,
Loving and Sharing with One Another,
From the moment, we are Born.
My words have been misunderstood – Sometimes, mistaken for a Caw,
But if you listen with your Heart: I am speaking Creator’s Law.
©lsm
