Cherokee poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of cherokee poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on cherokee are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Well and there is a LOST SEA Somewhere running through The crystal caverns down and Around the foot hills of the Appalachian Mountains… I remember some kind of strange Indian folklore from many lifetimes Lived before, you look into my
Take into consideration what we’ve witnessed, experienced, Our brothers and sisters being Laid to rest every weekends. Their bodies being buried Six feet under this land, Their souls leaving this precious earth, Into the heavens and the horrible hells. All
Today is a special day, it is not my birthday, nor any so-called day! Today is a special day, where loves blossoms steadily, where Cupid lead me to a beautiful lady! Today is a special day, when love flies not
There are these moments of peace and clarity. They feel almost foreign like they don’t belong. My world functions in movements of headbangers’ ball mixed with rapper’s delight like trumpets blaring and an offbeat drum. It’s all in my head,
A lead goes nowhere, a ladder, a snake, bloody steps; a city mourns, while blackened walls of a house search its owner. Shadows of grainy straws move under the eyes. Scent of nails bites bronze silence. Sips of cold statements
I found this “Happiness” A bit, a while ago My mornings became brighter And nights more poetic Though my past days were happy There was something missing I dig deeper to know me But in vain it went for years
I was five, a little girl, could hardly reach there; where the memories hid themselves, Eyes whispered something to my mind, what is so special about the shelf? A dusty red book, a thread of black to bind its old
How to begin the journey of truth? it was moving away from all paths. No concrete answers were there, questions loomed large, a moaning confusion reigned. I moved inward, to open the door, I had to talk to my poems.
A sleepless night exploring an expectation My mind eye playing the reel Anxiety clicking with time My self – doubt will maybe? The inner voice begins to play The same old Sun awakes a new day This is I the
Conspicuous characteristic distinguishing self-sustaining of my will to be or not to be … The mind agitated, darkness to be filtered slowly, carefully to sustain its fragile shell … we are shaken not stirred. If only you could have saved
Cannot decode the signature of fear beneath the huge eyes, serene and calm, darting right and left, like a stricken animal at frenzy. Drift we must; will seldom cross the path. Agony of existence, flying thighs, erect humps, sliding on
Step aside. The white flowing mane was going to become the adrenaline. Fear of silence was turning into a green wound. The dissenting life-blood has vandalized the moon. There was a provocation from the black stars. The leopard was ready
A brown cloud descends on charcoal sketch. Moonstruck, a blast begins. Marigold, beware: sun is going to hide behind the stings. The fang penetrates deep, in the breast of sleeping pride. A golden god melts in the arms of mercy.
Going backfoot he looked inside himself and felt a breeze on empty stomach. Mother-of-pearl, he was a sand grain in the eye of a storm. He wanted to shut off all beliefs to further the search of truth, be happened,
I rouse from the lap of ocean.. rose up down now and than… flew on on the wings of clouds.. walk play and commit many fouls… Collide with mighty mountains.. feeling cavalier..without any pain… a sudden my tears rushing down
Ah, let come this stifling breeze now to ye all! Such sweet sap envelops my every pore, Shall I await for the ever fresh rainfall? For I fear the amber of daylight no more. Dormant they recline on fields of
Our age is a deciduous tree, sheds yellow desires every year makes room for new ones in the spring of opportunity. Some desires resemble oak leaves, cramped and brown- still cling in mothers’ bosoms like our plans, albums, possessions. Alas,
A word amidst verses, Coming to life briefly When the reader leases His mind and time solely. That moment of glory, Is transient like you; An unknown for many Very common for few. Alone it’s no meaning, A tale not
Gladioli stand in a tantric daze under siege of prism. The colors fall dangling, unsettling silent memories. I thought I was nervous while playing a smell game of wild guns, when tanks were rolling out on streets. A final farewell
In time warp, to find the fell of a dark moon my thoughts bring out a birthday gift. The first step in fog discovers the sharp edge of kindness. Who will believe this black and white, suicide of a sage?
An ascetic dies in a shoe spilling blood. A surreal moon wants to investigate – a sectarian divide of fraudulent sky. And you want to be buried under rose petals – courting controversies to clean the polluted river. A lifeboat
On a cloudy day The grass plants were dancing with the air, laying on the green carpet of grass while travelling within me Pain wave origin from heart Like a deadly storm in a desert The crushing waves of pain
After the moon it was an unkempt night. I wanted to kill the narrative and recast the frozen history. A dirt road leads to a new trajectory now, splattered with blood. A double tongued thought brings the ire of screaming
Through the stormy desert Your thirst staggered for days, And ends up sipping Fresh experiences as consolation. An ocean of memories inside heart Constantly combust like wild flames, Yet seems so peaceful Like the rough skin of an extinct volcano.
If it were the touch of his hands upon my shoulders, The guest was longing and serenity. If it were the whisper of his voice into my ears, It was the excitement of love that collided with my hopes. All
Without you near me the world is hazy, living without you is nothing short of crazy. Your perspective aids me to see things better, without you life is restricted with many a fetter. Your company beautifies the ambience, star gazing
Every minute from dawn until dusk, I watch a screen, waste my life away. It’s not a good life But it is my life now. The television is my headstone, Marking in the electronic earth The coffin of my bedroom.
Let’s, you and I, have secs. Let’s have seconds that lead to minutes that lead to hours that lead to days. For entertainment purposes, let’s enter our secs for roles in ‘special’ theatrical plays in which we’re allowed to act