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Array
(
[sid] => 167269
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Warrior
[time] => 2011-09-05 21:20:52
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => "Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared: The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold: Say, is my kingdom lost?" -Shakespeare I stand tall, balmy summer rain drops, fall to the ground liken art. True as an arrow in flight, And exploding like my bleeding heart. In the distance, The eagle soars, and the bee hums. Air echoes, flowing under their wings, Carried with beat of the drums. I dance like a flute, Graceful, pretty, light and airy. One with the deer, bear and elk That roam this vast prairie. This is our tribe, Oh holy great spirit, I call on the Sacred white buffalo Give me strength, I must not fear it. Our great ancestors roots run deep as the wooden forest tree. I will not leave this land My land, my children's marquee. Before the first sun rose, our people's pride, Ran further then the eye could see. Now the white man comes Calling from the endless sea. White father, brings another white son. I cry, there is no end Liken wild seeds, The morning brings the sun. I fight, for what No man will ever own, I sacrifice my life for mother earth, Protect what she has secretly sewn. Like the feather that blows in the wind like a gentle sigh. I will join the great spirits, That stretch the midnight sky. Remembered by my children And my children's children. Stories told and retold, I shine, amongst my great brethren. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 148 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Recyclebin [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
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