I have tried to put into verse stories of the North American People and their Myths, some of the stories will need help in their composition when anyone has a little spare time, Thank You Yours Ian.T

Absaroka (Crow Nation)

Achiyalatopa Speaks...

Where are you my nations of six
The loss of your ways must I perish
Did I do you wrong my Zuni
I no longer adorn your altars
My swords are gone for ever,
decayed in the history of Mankind.

I cry out to the sacred beings.
Where are my people
did they all perish?
The badger, snake, cougar,
wolf, shrew and bear.
Are they now with the Great Spirit,
or are they hidden by your fear.

Why do you fear the new ones,
did they infest your spirits
with harmful new ways.
I cannot hold you my people,
you have driven me deep inside
The darkness is of your making,
let my creatures free to roam.

Remember that your days are short
I will be waiting for my children.
Fear only that I am gone,
you the last of my people,
will not survive here in this land.
I am awaiting the Earth to move
then I will claim you back again.
I await your return...

Achiyalatopa is from the legend of the Crow People of North America, A Spirit being with a tail of knives.. Oh well shall I talk of the sword swallower’s?

Kachina of the Hopi

There are so many of you
Holding sway with our nation
We of the Hopi yearn for your wisdom
Your powers over air and water

Talk to us in gentle tones
Let our ancestors rejoice at our life
Let them release us from misery
From the memories we had of long ago

Let fertility become your watchword
As you tend to our people and crops
We teach our children of your ways
We make your form to show them

The creatures of the Earth
Adorn the images of your form
With feathers and seed of the Earth
We will teach our children to walk tall

We will sing and dance your praises
At the Soyal we will renew our vows
Ahola oh ancient one watch over our sun
You led our people that long time past

We walked from the Mountains of the East
To the great plains of the Middle land
You showed us the track of the sun
Hear us now oh special one

We ask only that which we need
Forgive us our wants that we can live again
Send to us Chaveyo, show those that do wrong
Put our people on the road of the Great Spirit

You are many where we are now few
I will talk to you again Great Spirit
Forgive this lowly creature
Take my love and praise for ever

The Lalakonti Ceremony

The old women gathered
To look at the stars above
Orion was their greatest prize
It hung there as if to realise.

It was time for the Lalakonti
Hopi girls lift your baskets
First to the left breast
Then to the right touching so.

Then my Hopi’s down it goes
To the prize of brave young men
Round and round the fire you go
The Great Spirit will hear you so.

We will make an altar to you
Prayer plumes more than a few
A sand picture drawn true
Bring us that Winter hail anew.

The Hail that rests the soil
That in the Spring we toil
Making our crops grow
We need soft earth and water so

Our dance is led by our mother
Who places the prayer plumes
There in the sacred Sipapu hole
Two men used to make it so

We thank you Mother Earth
For all the gifts you bestow
Our baskets thrown lets you know
That we the Hopi love you so

A scramble ensues of the young
To find a maiden, join in the fun
Many hours of loving life our way
Wish it would return to me today.

Great Spirit Buffalo

I would love to lock horns with you
Oh mighty Spirit Buffalo of the plains
Shall we talk of our ways that are obscure.
Where are your people, where do they dwell?

I have heard tales of the plains people
That have called your name yet where are you?
Have you forsaken them or are they blind,
is it not time for you to forgive them?

It was not their fault that they erred,
you were there watching as time passed.
The great Eagle your eyes, the bear a strength.
They needed more as a wailing child

To see you in all your glory to let them know,
that they were part of you, part of the whole.
This was a simple thing for them to be watchful
How was it that you never came back?

Acoma Pueblo

My city of stone
My people I cry for you
I looked into our land
Nothing remains
broken hope of years.
You did toil the soil,
your life was grand.

But what could you do,
the waters ran away from you?
Where did those clouds roll?
Not here, you, my people cried
It hurt your very soul
Brown crops dying so
My children where,
now this place has died,
can I find you?

There’s no need to hide
You now suffer more so
Pollution is to blame?
The world is not the same,
Now moving is the game.
Do you ever learn from me?
Not much that I can see
Till the day you die.

My people will not survive
For comes another

This one more hurtful,
than the dry winds
He will scour your lands
Far deeper than the wind
Much broader than the shear
He will rule over you.
It will be his laws that will kill.

The Clovis culture

We gave the world a puzzle
Yet great we were in American time
Our tools were of another level
The archaeologists found the sign
Buried as we fell there,
to famine drought or fire.

In a new land not seen before
Our weapons opened another door
They dated us in pre history time
The sphinx in Egypt
Would have smiled if he knew
That I played with bows and arrows
As he watched over you

But what of those great sailors
Saying they’d found new lands
Did they not see us standing there
With our weapons in our hands
They returned talking of our land,
Something for their empires plan.

It would have been better for all,
had we welcomed them to our shore