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Wait I'm Coming... [Primal Poetry Workshop]

Pulsating rhythm, chord of chants
Dancing with stars and gods
Who goes there?

Totems built of dreams
Animal spirits in the flames
Snakes in the grass

Ancestors speak of the past
Listen children...
Where have you gone?

Reaching out
Hold the vision
Wait for me

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
Last few words: 
Third poem and maybe the best?
Editing stage: 


a vision of a shaman, sitting with a group of children; telling them the legends of their tribe and the children were giggling and not paying attention. I felt the urge to reach out and tell the shaman to wait, I would listen. That is where that came from. ~ Gee.

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Bring your dark and delicious work
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author comment

The creed of North American indigenous people has lost too much value after the white face conquerors arrived, stole their children and their language until only a few were left with stories of their ancestors to tell

try it a few more times. You just put on the drums, preferably with a sound system or headphones capable of a good bass sound, sit in a comfy chair, relax all your muscles starting from your toes, breathe deeply and slowly, close your eyes and start looking at the colours and shapes you see in the blackness. Don't try to control them, just watch. As the drumming continues you will start to see them coalescing into images, sometimes even narrative. It can help to imagine you are entering a tunnel that leads to another world.
When the drumming finishes, or when you know it is time, open your eyes and write down what you saw.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

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