Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Poetry by Melissa Fry Beasley, Cherokee Poet and Writer ! [ very interesting blog ]


Melissa Fry Beasley is a Cherokee Poet, Writer, Advocate, and Activist from Oklahoma. She is proud to have red dirt running through her veins. You can find her work in print and online.



Poem To My Grandmother

Mixed media collage, me

Piecing together life
Into amazing squares
Of faith and strength
Catching laughter
Binding tears
Placing them just so
Feather stitching chaos into order
Into your hoop
Go dreams of the people
Memories of family
Nations quilted into glorious hugs and well wishes
Sent across miles
Or just around the corner
Wrapped tightly
Safely shielded from the elements
Harshness of the world
History woven into each block
Every blanket containing pieces of you
Your wisdom
Reminding us who we are
Where we came from
In one of your blankets I saw chickens in a coop
another contained startstuffs and Heaven
I’ve seen wedding rings
A trail across Kansas
Even the path of a drunkard
I saw the blanket of Chiefs and
One men wrap up in to see Holy things
There was even one made by your Grandmother so long ago
When she was still little
Love in each stitch
Prayer in every thread
So much magic in each creation of your beautiful hands
I found my Grandmother
Her Grandmothers
Blowing in the breeze
Soaking in the sun
As this blanket was just hanging there.


War Torn

chernobyl wildlife
Chernobyl Wildlife

The eyes caught me
Bomb -shattered and tired.
Time stretched on
In them for eternities.
I could see everything
They had captured within them.
Full of knowledge and expectation.
Thunder of war
Lightening of quick death;
The dead that rose to haunt him defiantly.
He had entered places forbidden,
Touching death
Walked over sleeping bodies.
Days measured out
Though life can make
Opportunity for outcasts.
He lay where shadows of past
Still fell heavy and menacing.
Locked in the cool darkness
Of blue-black rooms
Every valuable thing
Was taken from him.
Life flows away
Faster than the passage of age.
Only in sleep
Will you be hacked to pieces.
Only in the resting
Will you be made a martyr.



Uncertain Time

Wolf pup howls;
Noses mother.
Again, with paw.
She does not move.
There is no stirring.

In darkening sky,
Turkey vultures eagerly circle
Contemplate closing in.
He knows this is an uncertain time.




You think
Is civilization
Is only architecture
Built on lies
Destined to crumble
Falling from sky
Ash like snow
Ailing forces
That twist like tornadoes
The way spirits
Travel in wind
We only fell victim
To our compassion
Went to war
Came home alone
Weary with loss
But not yet beaten
With no desire
To make you
Feel better
Your tragedies

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