Pinning Our Hearts
Swift sudden events
pinning our hearts
to the nailed wall.
Fate may return
thrown boomerang
to skilled hand
of primeval hunter;
but flung darts,
squashing experiences,
are an inheritance;
worn upon the soul,
a rich necklace
experiential wisdom,
best shaman worn
so that children may learn,
from the light of wisdom;
purchased at such great cost.
Shaman heal souls
strengthen society
sing songs restore
ecological balance.
Shaman confront
spiritual infirmity
banish infectious
spirit oppose
dark demons
stalkers of night.
Inspired by the poem ‘A game of darts and a game of squash’ by Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Dog Soldier Lodge Affirmed
We believed in love, freedom, nobility;
to spiritual depths of our souls.
We believed in spiritual sacredness;
of our vibrant untamed land.
We rode our mustangs like wind tossed rolling thunder;
drumming within across prairie storm front;
as we rode wild free ranging prairie wind;
sweeping across an untamed unshod land.
We were so proud to live; as robust hunter-warriors;
to walk stand tall; sharing tribal life spirit.
So proud to live! So proud to die!
We fought frightened forked tongued white devil;
with every honourable fibre of our sacred being;
as they swept like vermin; despoiling stealing violating;
great beauty of a spiritual primeval land.
As Dog Soldier Warriors; of entrusted sacred lodge;
we died as we lived; with respect spiritual nobility.
I remember drums beating beating beating....
as my tribe cast my sacred spirit free.
I remember ritual tribal drums beating;
as my people cast my shaman spirit free;
vanquishing suppressed pain of weeping wounds;
which had battle pierced bled profusely;
sustained in mesmeric dance of necessitated battle;
when trampled buffalo hide tepee; of venerated Great Spirit;
within my warrior hardened body; invincible in combat;
finally fell undefeated; before an ignoble enemy.
Defend ancestral hunting grounds; wearer of eagle feathered;
war bonnet; strike with medicine power; of eagle descending....
on prey; protect shaman warrior; brave deeds in battle worthy;
first to touch living fallen enemy in battle; in front of fighting.... notched decorated feathers tell your deeds; designate swift killing;
telling your fierce individual stories; scalping capturing....
enemy’s weapons shield proudly worn; how thunder on horseback
or foot; attacking fear you struck into veteran civil war enemies....
What remained of a once proud people; hostilities long bled;
cast my shaman spirit free; cleansing ceremony completing;
to roam restoring; releasing vitality; warrior leading retaliatory strikes;
be free in spiritual hunting ground; of earned nomadic nobility.
Until foretold time; descendant tribe; would seek; must seek;
wisdom of spirit world; to guide survivors in spiritual perpetuity.
Then search in sacred ritual circle ceremony; tribal knowledge proving;
for tribal lore; for primeval knowledge; for new found spirituality.
Guarded for time swept tribe; for time of great need;
by a shaman; by a newborn past ancestor; of awe inspiring ability.
We worshipped; in peace in war; wisdom of Great Spirit.
We worshipped life. We worshipped our land. In perpetuity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Cosmic Shaman...
I am the son of knowledge and wisdom,
I am son of the cosmic shaman,
My mystical soul begins it's eternal journey,
The journey to penetrate my inner self,
To journey the unknown darkness,
I seek the light to travel beyond imagination,
For I am surreal... Afraid to be real,
A desperate darkness living in pure light,
Blind and deaf seeking out the depths of my fear,
My eternal yearning screams evermore,
I am son of the Cosmic Shaman...
I seek answers... I seek rebirth... I seek eternity...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Dislocated
An invoice of silence in a bill of time
Sometimes a second pronounced targeted holes of darts
Much as I try never to miss a single point
The whole world within might easily fall apart
Makes me a queen of arrows – a fractured disjoint
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Ricochet
I stood all the doorways
Shipwrecked by the night
Stardust named my bits
And the myths did not know
Whether it was the bullets or the heart
No staircase no upper floor
I sun burst bruised each step
Said all the poems written long ago
Were they just whispers words fallen apart
Air ate mist
Mist ate my breath
Nowhere could I go
Bounced back by darts
Ricochet
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Game of our Hearts
This is the game of our hearts!
Foot to the stirrup! Away!
Care with the night departs,
Joy comes in with the day.
A good horse tossing his rings,
A light rime decking the thorn:
And the heart of the horseman sings
For love of a hunting morn.
This is the game of our hearts!
Mottled flanks in the fern;
Rate where a rabbit starts,
Cheer to a waving stern;
Call that we rush to obey
From a Whip at his post outside:
Gone away! Gone aw-a-a-ay!
And we sit down to ride.
This is the game of our hearts!
Crash and rattle of rail;
Lean hounds driving like darts
Into the breast of the vale.
Tried Age taking the lead,
Rash Youth coated with clay;
Glory and glamour of speed,
And a right fox away.
This is the game of our hearts,
Whatever luck may ensue-
This, where a Master of Arts
May fail and a dunce get through!
This, where the confident thrust;
This, where the cowardly crane;
This, where there's nothing to trust
But fate and the feel of the rein.
This is the game of our hearts!
Squire and lawyer and lord,
Men of the farms and the marts,
Men of the pen and the sword;
Comrades we jog to the meet,
Rivals we ride the line,
And the sound of the hoofs is sweet
And the taste of the wind is wine.
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Since Supernatural
ft. Melkie Jean and Governor Washington
Since Supernatural ain't nothin changed
All new players still the same old game
Well if you're low-ridin or your up in your range
Let me see you blow your horn
For the mommies that be lookin good at he bus stop
The ones at the club that be makin the fires start
Your fools with the thugs that be makin the guns spark
Why can't we all just get along?
LAPD
song performed by by Santana from Shaman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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DreamDiet
DreamDiet
by Ted L Glines
After fasting for
four long days
(old native shaman stuff)
cleaned out my system
saw visions (woo hoo)
I spent four more days
ingesting chocolate milk
nothing but chocolate milk
(Borden's Dutch Chocolate)
and I felt great
had lost some weight
and when I peed
my water came out clear
and thus I was enlightened
(old native shaman stuff)
(umm bum-bum-bum-bum umm...)
I suddenly realized
my system loved chocolate
gobbled it up
water running clear
(no chocolate particles in it)
losing weight
and after several months
am down to 80 pounds
water still running clear
and the visions
(woo hoo)
I may be growing small
but I am delicious
am writing my will
bequeathing my body
(condensing as it is)
to Hershey's
poem by Ted L Glines
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This Is A Tough Game
As I scribble
On a small piece of my life's paper
I need courage and strength
To face the challenges
That test my spirit and mind
For my soul is burdened
And I feel drained out
And see myself wandering in wilderness
Passing through storms and fear
For life is a tough game
And I need to strengthen my faith
And have courage to open my mind's eye
To see divine plan unfolding in my life's path
With confidence and grace.........
I need peace and solace
To restore my balance
To lessen my heartache
And soul's burden
And enjoy the richness of small things in life
So I can heal quickly
And get the ability to move on
And enter the door of opportunity
Where God's tender love is present
To move on and on
For life is a tough game
And I need to strengthen my faith
And have courage to open my mind's eye
To see divine plan unfolding in my life's path
With confidence and grace.........
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Children Of The Earth
shaman guardian spirit
is protector of people
protector of sacred land
we must wait for white
men to learn
laws written in sand
by laws of mother nature
respected
must men live upon land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Flesh given
Flesh given body driven
Worn out torn reborn
Bone sinking
Cluttering thinking
Clutched and strained
Endlessly clay refrained
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Listen, wait, and be patient. Every shaman knows you have to deal with the fire that's in your audience's eye.
Wisdom's Way
Wisdom is calling souls today, to come to God in Wisdom's way,
While Wisdom sends forth her call, upon this world, to every soul,
For Wisdom has prepared for us, a house built on Righteousness,
Built up with seven pillars strong; being complete for every throng.
Wisdom has prepared her feast, for those with plenty, to the least,
While she has set her table for all, for both the great and the small,
Wisdom has sent out her invitation, to all souls without reservation,
Her invitation for all to come, regardless of where are you are from.
She calls the simple to partake, but foolishness they must forsake,
As wicked ways all must spurn, to come to Wisdom and truly learn,
With wisdom being their selection, they must be open to correction,
Learning from every past mistake, as Wisdom's feast, they partake.
As scoffers come along our way, rejecting what Wisdom has to say.
All filled with arrogance and pride, by them, wisdom shall be denied,
Correcting then in Wisdom's name, brings upon one hurt and shame,
For hate the scoffer will project, toward one who chooses to correct.
Will you today heed Wisdom's call, to seek The Lord Who's over all?
Leaving old ways, that you know, so through Wisdom you can grow,
Changing to a life of Righteousness, this as you follow Christ Jesus,
As Wisdom shall multiply your days; with a long life, to God's praise.
(Copyright ©07/2012)
The Healing Game
Here I am again
Back on the corner again
Back where I belong
Where Ive always been
Everything the same
It dont ever change
Im back on the corner again
In the healing game
Down those ancient streets
Down those ancient roads
Where nobody knows
Where nobody goes
Im back on the corner again
Where Ive always been
Never been away
From the healing game
Where the choirboys sing
Where Ive always been
Sing the song with soul
Baby dont you know
We can let it roll
On the saxophone
Back street jelly roll
In the healing game
Where the homeboys sing
Sing their songs of praise
bout their golden days
In the healing game
Sing it out loud
Sing it in your name
Sing it like youre proud
Sing the healing game
Sing it out loud
Sing it in your name
Sing it like youre proud
Sing the healing game
Sing the healing game
Sing the healing game
Sing it in your name
Sing the healing game....
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obsession
Making somebody happy is a question of give and take
You can learn how to show it so come on, give yourself a break
Every smile and every little touch
Don't you know that they mean so much
Sweet sweet kisses so tender
Always will return to sender
Like a bang, a boom-a-boomerang
Dum-be-dum-dum be-dum-be-dum-dum
Oh bang, a boom-a-boomerang
Love is a tune you hum-de-hum-hum
So give it away, I think you'll learn
You'll get love in return
So bang, a boom-a-boomerang is love
A boom-a-boomerang is love
Love is always around and you can look for it anywhere
When you feel that you've found it my advice is to take good care
Never use it as a selfish tool
Never ever be such a fool
Every feeling you're showing
Is a boomerang you're throwing
Yes a bang, a boom-a-boomerang
Dum-be-dum-dum be-dum-be-dum-dum
Oh bang, a boom-a-boomerang
Love is a tune you hum-de-hum-hum
So give it away, I think you'll learn
You'll get love in return
So bang, a boom-a-boomerang is love
And if you're warm and tender
I'll kiss you, return to sender
Please surrender
Bang, a boom-a-boomerang
Dum-be-dum-dum be-dum-be-dum-dum
Oh bang, a boom-a-boomerang is love
A boom-a-boomerang is love
song performed by by Sugababes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weaving Shadow Into Wingbeats
kingfisher spread your wings
in sudden flight above the water
be your perch rock or branches
fly free launch faith above water
“a soulhunter upon water”
plumage sparkles dazzles
soul soaring upon water
dream sharing dart visions
binocular vision colour vision
irises perceive distance piercing
compensate refraction of water
underwater reflection in hunting
able to judge underwater depths
accurately perceiving heartbeats
weaving shadow into wingbeats
fly with me swift healer of souls
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by ‘You're my fisherman’ by Miroslava Odalovic. The above quoted line is also from ‘You're my fisherman’ by Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Brand New Game
Saw you talk near the slots
And I got a brand new game
Running down the alley with an hour you bought
From a man with no last name
Like an idiot animal
Too stupid to shame
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new, brand new game
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new game
Ape man in a cave
Painting on the wall
Nothings gonna keep the visions menacing glances
And nothing thats got it all
From gazing over to where hope sleeps
Artificially small
Like a beast to tame
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new, brand new game
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new game
Now monkey is alright?
Come on
Ones never enough, twos always a crowd
I got a mindful scoping the slide?
And a glass side nature mane?
Everythings impossible
Theres nothing to do
But oppose this road remain?
Push the point to oblivion
And keep turning the plane
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new, brand new game
Got a brand new game
Got a brand new game
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Simply The Best: Clay To Porcelain Furnace Glaze
as a hungry baby I will need many oysters
to feed you upon pearls of wisdom choices
neither angel nor saint we animate clay models
little gods in mud we were made for transcendence
kiln fired watertight colouration fixed shiny figurines
Inspired by the poem ‘Confession’ by Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hunter or the hunted! ! ! ! !
If you be a hunter,
Besides being good marksman,
One needs sportsmanship.
What makes one a hunter;
Fun of the game or sadistic pleasure,
At times I wonder…
Hunted or the hunter
In the playfield, there is a slim chance,
The pursuer end as prey.
So what,
If its a poem or a poet;
Its all in the game,
an occupational hazard...
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Card-Dealer
Could you not drink her gaze like wine?
Yet though its splendour swoon
Into the silence languidly
As a tune into a tune,
Those eyes unravel the coiled night
And know the stars at noon.
The gold that's heaped beside her hand,
In truth rich prize it were;
And rich the dreams that wreathe her brows
With magic stillness there;
And he were rich who should unwind
That woven golden hair.
Around her, where she sits, the dance
Now breathes its eager heat;
And not more lightly or more true
Fall there the dancers' feet
Than fall her cards on the bright board
As 'twere a heart that beat.
Her fingers let them softly through,
Smooth polished silent things;
And each one as it falls reflects
In swift light-shadowings,
Blood-red and purple, green and blue,
The great eyes of her rings.
Whom plays she with? With thee, who lov'st
Those gems upon her hand;
With me, who search her secret brows;
With all men, bless'd or bann'd.
We play together, she and we,
Within a vain strange land:
A land without any order,—
Day even as night, (one saith,)—
Where who lieth down ariseth not
Nor the sleeper awakeneth;
A land of darkness as darkness itself
And of the shadow of death.
What be her cards, you ask? Even these:—
The heart, that doth but crave
More, having fed; the diamond,
Skilled to make base seem brave;
The club, for smiting in the dark;
The spade, to dig a grave.
And do you ask what game she plays?
With me 'tis lost or won;
With thee it is playing still; with him
It is not well begun;
But 'tis a game she plays with all
Beneath the sway o' the sun.
Thou seest the card that falls,—she knows
The card that followeth:
Her game in thy tongue is called Life,
As ebbs thy daily breath:
When she shall speak, thou'lt learn her tongue
And know she calls it Death.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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