The time and date is:
2:16 am Sunday, 17 December 2017
* Home

Sections
* Ballads
* Ballad Features
* Burns
* McGonagall
* Other Poetry
* Scottish Writers
* Scots Glossary

Poets
* Alphabetical List
* Featured List

Poems
* List of Topics

Songs
* Scottish Songs
* Modern Songs

Submissions
* Submit a Poem
* Submit a Song

Policies
* Copyright
* Permission
* Privacy
* Standards

Web Links
* Other Sites

Contact
* About Us
* E-mail Us

White Man's Garbs ©

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Lavergne, USA
2005

The dark clouds gather
hold upon the planes
In the distance a clap of thunder roars
upon the prairie winds, upon the chill
where moist air gathers to the roar
like millions of pounding hooves
that are no-more,
rumbling upon the land
crossing the great divides
Hammering home.

It's here where the soil fills upon the breeze
That the eagle sweeps upon the current
holds its own with the battling air
and cries out upon the dusty planes
the song of souls long gone
here upon earth and sky
Is the chant of the braves of long ago;
Warriors cast with the wild mustang
they sweep the undefiled forms of ghosts
that haunt our silent world to their demise.

The white man's tongue that so lied
and bleed the world to greed
Wore the mask of decay.
The rain falls heavy, these tears
that bleed the soul
the eternal flatbeds of time
pour out upon the world
drained to the broken promises
the fading sighs that here even today
their children bear, wear
the lost vestiges of a once noble creed
Dies to the lost dreams.

The broken arrows of the morning
that no longer drives straight the shaft
Holds to the Bow
rather now like the faded buffalo
they become a fabled tale
That rings upon the drums of yesterday
peers out across the distant fields
Drowned in the sea of civilization
Warped up in the white mans garbs.


Web Site by IT-SERVE © 1999 - 2017 All Rights Reserved Return to top