Righteous Attitude for Friend Thad
Righteous Attitude
The hunter rose before the dawn to watch the new day being born.
He raises prayers to Manitou as his wise father taught him to.
This brave though young is known to be a man who hunts successfully
To creatures he must kill for food he shows a reverent attitude.
When they fall victim to his bow he thanks their spirits as they go
back to the source from whence they came he knows each creature by its name.
He thanks them for their sacrifice, because he knows that success lies in following the ancient laws. Which the Great Spirit will enforce.
He has absorbed all he was taught, he kills for food but not for sport.
He sings his praise to Manitou because he knows that thanks are due. When the Great Spirit shows the way which leads him to his lawful prey.
Some days he hunts without success but still finds the will to bless
the sacred name of Manitou the way successful hunters do.
He’ll rise again tomorrow morn before the coming of the dawn
and to the Manitou he’ll pray he has a more successful day.
27-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
My Father Is a Great Hunter
In those days they say
Animals live in the bush
I wish my father can travel go West
To see cat and dog
Antelope and elephant
Tiger and lion
Living in man’s house.
They call them pets
But I don’t understand
While in my continent
Mouse hunts for food
Cat hunts for mouse
Dog hunts for cat
Tiger hunts for dog
And my father hunts for tiger and lion.
My father is a great hunter
Our carpet is zebra crossing
Our bed is tiger coat
Our cloth is lion braveness
The walls of my house
Is made with the beauties of boas
And I am proud to be a hunter’s heir.
poem by Abiodun Adekoya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paid in full for friend Leslie
Like a feathered arrow flying.
Straight and true but silently
Speeds the message of your dying
a missile you won’t hear or see.
When you chose to slay my tribesmen.
Slaughter squaws and little children
striking in the dead of night.
My people had no chance to fight.
You thought no one had survived
unaware one warrior lived.
From my totem seeking guidance
I chose to meditate by chance.
In the forest secretly
I kept my vigil faithfully.
Alerted by he dying cries
of people dying by surprise.
Cut down by killers as they slept.
I had no choice but to accept.
My totem had protected me
because my totem could foresee.
The secret plans of wicked men
Who had killed and would again.
Great Manitou had chosen me
to hunt them down relentlessly
Their punishment my sole intent
I knew I would not rest content.
Until the last of them had died
My spirit wails unsatisfied..
when the last of them has paid
the price for the part he played.
in murdering my family.
My quest will end successfully
When my arrow pierces you
a punishment long overdue.
I will give praise to Manitou
as any warrior ought to do.
20/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Camp of Souls
1 My white canoe, like the silvery air
2 O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls
3 When the moons of the world are round and fair,
4 I paddle back from the 'Camp of Souls.'
5 When the wishton-wish in the low swamp grieves
6 Come the dark plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.'
7 Two hundred times have the moons of spring
8 Rolled over the bright bay's azure breath
9 Since they decked me with plumes of an eagle's wing,
10 And painted my face with the 'paint of death,'
11 And from their pipes o'er my corpse there broke
12 The solemn rings of the blue 'last smoke.'
13 Two hundred times have the wintry moons
14 Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white;
15 Two hundred times have the wild sky loons
16 Shrieked in the flush of the golden light
17 Of the first sweet dawn, when the summer weaves
18 Her dusky wigwam of perfect leaves.
19 Two hundred moons of the falling leaf
20 Since they laid my bow in my dead right hand
21 And chanted above me the 'song of grief'
22 As I took my way to the spirit land;
23 Yet when the swallow the blue air cleaves
24 Come the dark plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.'
25 White are the wigwams in that far camp,
26 And the star-eyed deer on the plains are found;
27 No bitter marshes or tangled swamp
28 In the Manitou's happy hunting-ground!
29 And the moon of summer forever rolls
30 Above the red men in their 'Camp of Souls.'
31 Blue are its lakes as the wild dove's breast,
32 And their murmurs soft as her gentle note;
33 As the calm, large stars in the deep sky rest,
34 The yellow lilies upon them float;
35 And canoes, like flakes of the silvery snow,
36 Thro' the tall, rustling rice-beds come and go.
37 Green are its forests; no warrior wind
38 Rushes on war trail the dusk grove through,
39 With leaf-scalps of tall trees mourning behind;
40 But South Wind, heart friend of Great Manitou,
41 When ferns and leaves with cool dews are wet,
42 Bows flowery breaths from his red calumet.
43 Never upon them the white frosts lie,
44 Nor glow their green boughs with the 'paint of death';
45 Manitou smiles in the crystal sky,
46 Close breathing above them His life-strong breath;
47 And He speaks no more in fierce thunder sound,
48 So near is His happy hunting-ground.
49 Yet often I love, in my white canoe,
50 To come to the forests and camps of earth:
51 'Twas there death's black arrow pierced me through;
52 'Twas there my red-browed mother gave me birth;
53 There I, in the light of a young man's dawn,
54 Won the lily heart of dusk 'Springing Fawn.'
55 And love is a cord woven out of life,
56 And dyed in the red of the living heart;
57 And time is the hunter's rusty knife,
58 That cannot cut the red strands apart:
59 And I sail from the spirit shore to scan
60 Where the weaving of that strong cord began.
61 But I may not come with a giftless hand,
62 So richly I pile, in my white canoe,
63 Flowers that bloom in the spirit land,
64 Immortal smiles of Great Manitou.
65 When I paddle back to the shores of earth
66 I scatter them over the white man's hearth.
67 For love is the breath of the soul set free;
68 So I cross the river that darkly rolls,
69 That my spirit may whisper soft to thee
70 Of thine who wait in the 'Camp of Souls.'
71 When the bright day laughs, or the wan night grieves,
72 Come the dusky plumes of red 'Singing Leaves.'
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Initiate
Initiate
The time has come for me to seek
the advice of my ancestors.
To take to heart the words they speak
which will reveal my future course.
I have my knife I have my bow
and that is all I am allowed
The time is now I have to go
Until my totem is endowed.
I have to learn to recognise
my totem by his qualities.
Though he conceals them from mens eyes..
True understanding is the prize.
A lot depends on what he sees.
The part of him that dwells in me.
Subjects me to deep scrutinies
Which I must face I cannot flee..
I walk the wilderness alone
I catch and kill the food I need
and for each life I must atone.
As I was taught this is my creed.
I do not fear the solitude
Although I miss my family
I have the correct attitude
I know enough to wait and see.
The first night passes quietly
I rise at dawn salute the sun.
I watch and wait respectfully
but wonder in my heart which one.
Which creature will decide to be
the totem that I’m here to find.
The spirit creatures are quite free
to read the thoughts I have in mind.
The second night I cannot sleep
I pass the dark hours listening
to the night predators who creep
about my shelter foraging.
Again I rise up with the sun.
Then suddenly I see a bear
I have no doubt he is the one
whos taken me into his care.
I look at him he looks at me
He seems to be well satisfied
and off he trundles clumsily.
A totem I accept with pride.
The bear has freely chosen me.
I had no say it was his choice
I return home triumphantly
and with my family rejoice.
I must give up my boyhood name.
Now that I have become a man.
The Shaman plays his sacred game
The spirits tell him that he can.
Leave the choice of name to me.
The elders of the tribe confer
But they accept eventually.
I choose the name of Little Bear.
I am a full fledged warrior now.
No longer just a little boy
I freely let the teardrops flow
an outward sign of my great joy.
I am a man and take my place
amongst the older wiser men.
I passed the test without disgrace
A test I need not take again.
In due course I will earn respect
But I must act respectfully.
Towards my elders who expect
that I will listen carefully.
As I am taught the tribal lore
they have stored in their memory.
The things they could not teach before
my totem bear had chosen me..
4-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Is No Rest For Success
Success is a journey not a destination a year from
now you may wish you had started today.
Every beginner is a winner. Success is not escaping problems but facing them creatively.
There is no success without sacrifice.
Great success always calls for great sacrifice.
Even failure can become an important ingredient to success.
Failure just means that you have not yet succeeded.
I’d rather change my mind and succeed than have my own way and fail. Success without conflict is unrealistic.
Any person can be successful on smooth seas,
but it is the victory over the storm that gains true honor.
Success doesn’t come through the way you think it comes;
it comes through the way you think.
Never settle for less than success.
Success is doing something good.
When you can, where you can, while you can.
It’s better to attempt to do something great and fail,
than attempt to do nothing and succeed.
Success is not necessarily reaching your goal- but reaching the maximum possibilities in light of the opportunities that come your way.
To keep your values on target remember to live so that when you “arrive”, you’ll have pride behind you and hope ahead of you.
The success is truly the path to heaven.
Success is never ending, because success is like the process of seed planting. Every creative contribution like a seed planted may bear fruit.
Success finally is not what you have it is not what you do;
it is who you are, and what
you want to become of yourself.
poem by Felix Lugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Praise Ye the Triune God
Praise ye the Father! For his loving-kindness,
Tenderly cares he for his erring children;
Praise him, ye angels, praise him in the heavens,
Praise ye Jehovah!
Praise ye the Spirit! Great is his compassion,
Graciously cares he for his chosen people;
Young men and maidens, ye old men and children,
Praise ye the Savior!
Praise ye the Spirit! Comforter of Israel,
Sent of the Father and the Son to bless us;
Praise ye the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Praise ye the triune God!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles (1858)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Success or failure depends more upon attitude than upon capacity successful men act as though they have accomplished or are enjoying something. Soon it becomes a reality. Act, look, feel successful, conduct yourself accordingly, and you will be amazed at the positive results.
quote by William James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
We Do Not Want To Hear You Say
We do not want to hear you say how very great you are
Or if up the high hill to success you've climbed and climbed so far
To leave others talk of your success seems a better idea
Self praise is no praise so they say and that appeals to me.
We do not want to hear you say that you are God's gift to woman kind
But young women you fancy say that better than you are not hard to find
That women do not like egostical young men you seem to fail to see
And the few who say they like you do not like you only your money.
We do not want to hear you tell us of your successful life
And that the woman that you marry will be a wealthy fellow's wife
And that money speaks all languages may happen to be true
Few men in their early thirties would be as immature as you.
We do not want to hear you boast about your great success
It would seem that your money cannot buy you happiness
On the hill of financial success you may have climbed up far
But you should leave others tell the World of how great a man you are.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Do You Define Success?
The word success means many things to many people
To be considered a success, means that you have made it
The question here is – made it as what?
How do you define success?
Is it by passing an exam?
Is it by becoming a landlord or landlady?
Is it by been promoted at work?
Is it by winning the lottery?
Is it by marrying the woman of your dreams?
Is it by marrying the man of your dreams?
Is it by been in an executive position?
Is it by winning an election?
How do you define success?
Are you successful as a pilot or a stewardess?
What does the word – “success” mean to you?
Is it by been the head of your organization?
Is it by having lots of money?
And how much money determines success?
Are you successful as a member of the armed forces?
Are you successful as a member of the police force?
What is your own definition of success?
Are you successful by been a writer, teacher,
Pastor, evangelist, taxi driver, congressperson,
Medical doctor or a reputed musician
Are you successful by been a sole proprietor
Mechanic, movie star, or the chairman of the board
Are you successful as an architect or builder?
Do you consider yourself a success as a banker?
Success is in the eyes of the beholder
The meaning of success varies and differs
From one person to the other
poem by Julius Babarinsa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Success
What is success it has never been mine
In their different ways people it do define
Some see success as money to your name
As a lack of such a barrier to fame
Though others with such thinking do not agree
Success in quite a different way they do see
They will tell you that you cannot know of success
If in your mind no room for happiness
And some do say for a successful life
You do not need what's known as inner strife
The successful person does seem quite carefree
On what success is so few do agree
We all do look at things quite differently
That's how it is and that's how 'twill always be.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dad Never Taught Me
Dad never taught me how to curse
And he never told us to gamble
He always warned cigarettes are worst
And never to waste food on the table.
Dad never taught us how to be idle
He was always a hardworking man at best
Taught us how to be responsible
And to face with Courage every test.
My Dad was not perfect but he taught well
I think that's the best he could leave
The lesson in life that really spell
How truly successful is a life well lived.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bring Your Requests Before The Lord
Bring your requests before the Lord because He hears our prayers,
Bring your requests in sweet accord because our Father cares.
No other God exists above, no other God below,
No greater father shows his love with blessings to bestow
Consider Christ while on this Earth, He taught us how to pray,
That proves that even we have worth although at times we stray
Does God look down and hate us all? Why, then, would Jesus die?
Lord Jesus died because we fall, yet to the Lord we cry
Our sins confessed, we praise the Lord, our Father still forgives.
God's Spirit tells us, stand assured, because Lord Jesus lives
While He's in Heaven at God's side, our Father knows our needs
Because the Saviour crucified loves us and intercedes.
It doesn't matter what you've done, because Christ died for you.
God sacrificed His only Son, what more could they both do?
Bring your requests before the Lord! Use God's Word when you pray.
No prayer that's heard will be ignored! God's love is yours today
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Successful
Success forces us mildly to accept and swear obedience,
Towards whom is not known, but it is permissible to know.
There is a test for the great and intriguing,
Resolutions must end the matter.
Successful attributes kept the kings with their kingdoms,
Showing character and relentless strength.
To prosper is too wise a triumph, a reality is upon us,
We do mind the dangers but refrain from them now.
The marching of troops built water in the river,
Had an army in the first place,
And let the river run into the ocean,
Commanded by the generals and few others.
What is successful shows in the jobs we exceed
In calibre, and acumen, and wealth of knowledge.
The force of a thousand rivers was called a test
But then this test must be passed for the good of all men.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You have the right to feel, you are successful
Success, sweet success
Success, it is waiting for you
To own and hold on to it
Success of any kind
Has easy access
If you are after it restlessly
Success is not indeed the end
It is the beginning of a
New chain of successes
Simple it is to be successful
So simple, you wonder how many of us are not at it
It all depends on what you feel
Success means to you
You may school your thoughts
And train your emotions
To feel successful on everything
That happens around you
Your retention of all your
Physical, mental and social abilities
Is indeed your success
Your ability to make friends
And help them out in times of need
Is indeed your success
Your ability to keep your cool
In emotionally competing events
And situations
Is indeed your success
Your ability to make your ends meet
Come over challenges, emotional or otherwise
At the right time and in a rightful manner
Is indeed a success
Your ability to stand up
And hold on to your values
Is indeed a success
Your ability to be able to
Discharge your assigned responsibilities
Is indeed your success
Your ability to objectively assess
People and events
Without painting them subjectively
Is indeed your success
Your ability to stay most of your time positive
Progressive and productive
Creative and innovative
Is indeed your success
Your ability to hold on to
Your original traits
Without succumbing to the temptations
Of becoming someone else
Is indeed your success
If this forms your scale to measure success
You have the right to feel
You are successful
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Success
Success is not just being the best,
it's been so unassisted in a test.
Success is not been someone else,
but by making yourself a role model to everyone else.
Success is not just academic stability,
it's the mandate to succeed in every good ability.
Success is not just getting there first,
it's sometimes needed to carry the rest.
Success isn't ' i know and you don't ',
neither is it ' you know and i don't '.
It always says ' what can we learn from eachother ',
or ' lets strive to be the best together '.
Success is not measured by fames or fortunes,
but by the amendment of the past misfortunes.
Success has nothing to do with your age,
neither is it acheived by lust or rage.
Success is not having all you want,
but by you appericiating, cos that will count.
Success is set in motion by great men,
who have nothing to do wit bad omen.
success doen't smile and say ' i have all ',
neither does it laugh and say ' you don't have at all '.
Success isn't in knowledge or wealth,
but it's in justice and divine health.
Success is acheived by great readers,
who end up being exceptional leaders.
Success is not a feeling of superity,
but by a unique character and humility.
Coupled with hardwork and determination,
in other to acheive all dreams and visions.
Success doesn't mean financial prosperity,
but it means heavenly security.
To get tn the house of greatness,
one must walk through the road of success.
Successful people believe right from d day of their birth,
and in that which can't be destroyed by moth or death.
poem by Stanley Oguh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter Perfection
They say the dog is Man's best friend,
His buddy, through and through...
You can depend he will defend,
So credit where it's due...
Yet from the wild wolf he was tamed
And brought into the home,
Where he plays free and unashamed,
Wherever he may roam...
To think, the wolf once crossed the globe,
The forests, plains and hills...
And every valley Man could probe,
The wild wolf hunts and kills.
Beyond the cities, Nature rules
The hunter and the prey...
When Summer dies, the Autumn cools,
Then Winter haunts each day.
The blinding snow falls to the ground
And freezes far and wide...
It's then the white wolf roams around
And has no need to hide.
His camouflage is perfect now,
Successful hunts ensue...
The truth is harsh, yet fates allow
The things the wolf must do...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Winter Perfection'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Eternal Trinity
God, The Holy Spirit and The Son as The Godhead are three in one.
As The Spirit hovered over darkness, God and Christ created Bliss.
And God filled His new creation with ample creatures and vegetation.
Then God placed man in a special lineage and created man in His image.
But that paradise God would make was spoiled by that ancient snake.
So Eternal God who created all had to then redeem man from his fall.
The Word of God speaks to men, through the power of The Holy Spirit.
But since all men are condemned most of them don’t want to hear it.
The sin created by the fall lead God to use Moses to point out The Law.
Man is not saved by The Law but is accountable and destined to fall.
But Moses pointed to a one like him who would save man from his sin.
And The Holy union of three, work together as The Eternal Trinity.
God The Father and The Eternal One, sent to the world His Only Son.
For God as a spirit who can not die, gave Christ a body for you and I.
His body was to be a sacrifice so that men could have Eternal Life.
Today men lead by The Spirit preach this Truth to all who will hear it.
Christ died and He rose again, for He is The Beginning and The End.
The Holy Spirit present at creation hovers today over every nation.
Christ sent The Spirit to live in men, who through Him are born again.
God The Father, He was pleased, to bruise His Son for you and me.
For God The Son rose again, and Christ reigns today above all men.
While God The Spirit intercedes for redeemed sinners like you and me.
It is through The Eternal Trinity that all men can live for Eternity.
And all men who are willing to hear it are saved by The Holy Spirit.
(Copyright ©09/2004)
World is Wonderful for Successful
The world is wonderful
Only for those who are successful
So have stress
On sure success
Have access to successful man
Search for them do some scan
To ward off stress
And so called depression
From this life-stressful
Have a goal
Do dream
Drive in success stream
Do if you can do the best
Leave the rest
Have a complete plan
And a system to scan
Only then you will be a successful man
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song: Top Dog
Without the luxury or remorse,
of the kennelled cops on horse;
the addict dogs patrol the airport lounge.
I'm an Officer of the Force,
PC Dogie O'Hound, of course,
a taut spring, tight and tensioned, till unwound.
Dogie O'Hound, the cop from the Pound:
I hunts 'em down. I hunts 'em down.
I gets around as Dogie O'Hound,
to sniff out more quarry, pound for pound.
The dog cop is Halle-Boppe,
a comet to a grain.
You'll never stop the dogged cop;
hard-nosed and so well-trained.
The cop dog is top dog,
in the furry food-chain.
The cop dog, full chop dog,
smells guilt in flooding rain.
Dogie O'Hound, the cop from the Pound:
I hunts 'em down. I hunts 'em down.
Dogie O'Hound's no flip-flop, nor bound
by the laws of the jungle. My power's profound!
The cop dog's a hot dog,
whose nose can entertain,
the thick fog and mixed blog,
of false scent as no-brained.
The dog cop is hip-hop;
wild and unrestrained.
The dog cop is tip-top,
black ops and arts arcane.
With a known and honed resource,
my talent alone exhorts,
all lesser breeds to cower, as I confound.
I'm an Officer of the Force,
PC Dogie O'Hound, of course.
I am a blooded lurcher of renown.
Dogie O'Hound, the cop from the Pound:
I hunts 'em down. I hunts 'em down.
Dogie O'Hound, the new hero is crowned,
who harries and worries, and hunts 'em down.
poem by David SmithWhite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Reckoning Day
You may be the most famous and wealthiest one in the town
And your's may be more than a local renown
But with your success do not get carried away
For you too there will be a reckoning day.
Are you one who gives credit to where credit is due
And to your higher self are you one who is true
Or of the feelings of others are you not aware
And for self and self only do you only care.
Success as we know is so hard to define
And your views on that may be different to mine
The honest, kind and caring seem successful to me
Though with my thinking on such you do not agree.
Though many will see you as a great success
By the money and assets you have come to possess
It is not your wealth or the size of your house or your car
That tells me anything of the person you are.
Materially the most successful for many miles around
And wealthier than you are may be hard to be found
But as a person these things of you little do say
And will not be seen as important on your reckoning day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!