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60s
& Further Guest Artist
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Henri
Peter
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Gallery
3 - Sacred Lovers & Poetry
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The
Law Says to Tell You This Site Is For 18 Years And Older -So
There You Have It. Peace and Welcome.
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Welcome
to Henri Peter's Sacred Lovers Gallery!
Honoring
the Sacred World of Lovers!
I
have assembled a collection of his work that we hope will delight
and amaze you. I have added this Gallery
of
'Lovers," in alltheir different aspects. which we hope you enjoy
along with Native American poetry
.This
will be an ongoing project so please check back often.
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'Summer
of Love' © Henri Peter
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The
Circle of Life
Oh
Great Spirit,
Of the Indian People,
Hear my words
For they are words that come
From the heart, soul and mind.
Oh
Great Spirit,
Be my mind
Be my eyes
Be my ears
Be my heart
Be my soul
Be within meSo
that I may walk
With dignity and pride.
Oh
Great Spirit,
Of the Indian People,
Know of me.
For I am of your people.
I am Indian,
An Indian of the Circle of Life
A prisoner of War
In my own Land!
Oh
Great Spirit,
Of the Indian people,
Hear my words
For they are for you.
They are of you.
You are my way of Life
In the Circle of Life.
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'Original
Sin' © Henri Peter
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Rainbow
Shimmering color arched
against grey sky,
Painted by dancing light on air-borne mist.
Wide flung by a sacred hand...
The Hand that formed of dust nothingness
The solid Earth below.
Beauty and promise together blended,
Beauty ethereal, promise divine.
Given to grace the clouds and the rain,
Given to bless the world-weary heart...
Shimmers... fades... brightens...
To vanish in brilliance...
Shines through the dark in my soul.
By Red Unicorn
(Barbara Mann) ©1997
The
Calling
The fire is dancing
tonight and the winds are talking
Dancers from past lives enter the circle
Leading me back and forth through the history of myself
The mind searches as the spirit dances
The drums...dancing
to the heartbeat
Memories of long ago insights to the future
I hear the winds whispering my sweat lodge dreams
I see Sungmanitu tanka (the wolf) my guide
He shows me the ancestors,
not mine
They are not Lakota, or Tsalagi, or Iroquois
But they are all Nations, one Nation
Speaking with wisdom to share with each other
Yesterdays create todays
and promises of tomorrow
The lies will die with the smoke
And the whispers of the winds are clear and loud
And we shall all see the return of the buffalo
AHO
By Gerald Fisher
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'More
Than Lovers' © Henri Peter
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Summer
Rain
Father Sky is gray
As the new light appears
And the laughter of the birds is still
the clouds shed their tears
and the land drinks of this heavenly dew
puddles replace the dust
irresistible temptations for little feet
Turning my face to the sky
and feeling the gentleness of the mist
washing away my cares
filling my heart with happiness
Lifting my spirits
like the quenching of the crops
Raising my arms
I turn to the four winds
and give thanks for this
gentle…Summer Rain.
By Gerald Fisher
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'Vidaentralazada'
© Henri Peter
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Call
To The Four Sacred Winds
I call to the East, where the Father ascends
to all Mother Earth where life begins.
I fly through the cedars, pines, willows, and birch
as animals below me wander and search.
I call to the South, to the land down below.
Turtle stands silent, as man strings his bow
to hunt food and fur for his kin before snow.
A life will end so others will grow.
I call to the North, that yansa once knew.
I follow their path til it disappears from view.
Once vast in number, there stand but a few.
I hear only ghost thunder of millions of hooves.
I call to the West, to the ends of the lands,
to the Tsalagi, Kiowa, Comanche ... all bands.
Unite for the strength. Teach the young and demand
that you are Native Americans. Learn your tongue and stand.
My name is Freedom... I fly through this land.
I call to the Four Sacred Winds of Turtle Island.
By Spirit Wind
(Pat Poland)
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'Like
A Rock' © Henri Peter
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Let neither cold, hunger,
nor pain, nor the fear of them,
neither the bristling teeth of danger nor the very jaws
of death itself, prevent you from doing a good deed......
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'Last
Glance' © Henri Peter
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Grandmother's
Blanket
Grandmother's Blanket
holds the sweet smell of sage
Woven by enchantment, as the Spirits feel no rage.
Trimmed in eyelet shadows, cast into the snow
Tumbleweeds and deserts She traveled long ago.
The threads are Her wisdom She passes on to you,
Reflections wrap around us, as if we always knew.
The patchwork shows directions North, East, South, West
The needle points the way so we know when to rest.
Grandmother's Blanket holds the soft warmth of down
From fine-feathered friends and foliage all around.
Covered by a breeze and a soft summer rain
Lightning dances wildly, as the Thunder heals Her pain.
The colors are Her passions beneath the cotton lining
For She knows the Spirit world, is free and never binding.
Footsteps walk below the soil, Mother Earth is listening
Frost paints the Blanket edges, above the stars are glistening.
Grandmother's Blanket has many stories to tell
The colors have faded, for the years have turned it pale.
Comforted by the Oneness, Her head bows down in grace,
Thanking Great Spirit for Her Honor in this place.
By Ann Murray
Smith
