I decided to post four of my poems. If you've known me for awhile, you've probably seen all but one. If you are a new friend, I hope you will enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Of all the poems I've written, this one remains my favorite. It is a true story based on a series of visions I received over the course of a few years, and this poem is the reason I believe in past lives now.
She Who Rides the Wind
I lived in a time that has passed on.
My people’s ways have come and gone.
I was Shaman, Dream-Catcher, dark-skinned.
I was known as ‘She Who Rides the Wind.’
A vision for my eyes displayed,
while on a road I chanced to stray.
Back to the past, the picture framed.
The breeze softly whispered my name.
About me stretched the untamed land.
Towards all directions out it spanned.
Yet still the words, they whooshed along,
“She Who Rides the Wind here belonged.”
I straightened up and glanced around.
I seemed alone, no-one else was found.
I felt the present scene elapse.
This knowledge given, I did grasp.
I kept this gift sealed in my heart,
and searched then for the missing part.
When looking, nothing could I find
‘til I silenced my chatty mind.
One noon I simply took a rest,
with deep breaths, released my stress.
Then suddenly my world did change.
I wandered to that open range.
Dressed from head to foot in tan hides;
I was running, taking great strides.
My this-life husband (on his horse);
racing next to me was his course.
Divining sleep another night
put forth to me a wondrous sight.
A power animal came to me.
It helped to solve this mystery.
In seasons yore, I rode the clouds.
My steed and I, we two were proud.
A dream catcher held in my hand,
I caught dreams from my sleeping land.
Shaman, Dream-Catcher, and dark-skinned.
Formerly, ‘She Who Rides the Wind.’
Nowadays I live a different life;
but to him who rode, I am his wife.
Of yesteryear, I died that day.
How and why, I am not to say.
I have returned to heal my past.
I’ve come to terms with life at last.
These trances showed that I stood tall,
as I heeded my sacred call.
Thru mysteries as moons did wend
to me –who was ‘She Who Rides the Wind.’
by DM Yates
The Chinese legend of the tiger: On its forehead a straight line runs down, crossed by 3 lines. 玉 It means jade, which to the Chinese is a precious stone. The Chinese see the tiger as the king of animals. Born under this Chinese Zodiac Sign, I am much like this beast. So I wrote this poem in dedication to the tiger.
The Mighty Roar
Deep within the cavern,
the noble roars his call.
Deep within the river,
the fish have heard the bawl.
Deep within the forest,
the mightiest do squall.
“I am fearless hunter,
below me find my prey.
I am bravest warrior,
I’ll fight you any day.
Hide among the foliage.
I’ll find the one who strays.
With jade upon my brow,
my strength is thus displayed.
By birthright I am crowned.
I reign as king to all.
I am courageous tiger,
with stealth I do walk tall.”
I wrote this next one as a comparison between dreaming of perfect love and the reality of life:
If Wishes Were
If wishes were realities
and dreaming did come true,
I would spend my eternal life
in bewitching love imbued.
Deep within an emerald world
where boughs were soft as down,
I and my lover, in pleasure,
amongst nature would be found.
Wrapped in love everlastingly
with moonlit nights and sunlit days,
in ardent love, both unconcealed,
surrounded by zealous lovers’ haze.
As love was truly meant to be,
we’d see each other as we are.
Cuddling, we’d gently each caress,
without a chill, without love marred.
From tyranny, in freedom be,
without reproach or hateful glares.
Bonded by love we thus are one,
not seeing flaws, no tears nor cares.
There amongst the massive trees,
there alone, time idles by,
there amongst the watching flora,
there in love’s embrace we’d lie.
I dream that this one day will be,
of dulcet delights untangled;
instead of never good enough,
caged emotions, love that’s strangled.
Someday perhaps I’ll find such love,
and lie upon coddling flowers.
Without confining rules and scorn,
blissfully I’ll spend such hours.
Alas, I live in reality,
not in dreams as I desire,
where passions unrequited be,
where there is but stinging brier.
This last one I'm sharing is just a fun poem about clouds and friendship:
Upon the Clouds
Come with me upon the clouds,
We’ll desert this world of crowds.
Balmy blown billowing beds,
full of fluff for fleecy spreads.
Having fun in floating fog,
drifting, dreaming, plopped in bog.
On gelled expanse, our feet both bare,
let’s dance and prance without a care.
What a day I’ve planned for us,
without a rush, plus no fuss.
We’ll waft whilst on whiffled whites,
hovering in the highest heights.
On ballooned blankets we’ll collapse,
piles of puffed air, not burlaps.
Next to sweet angels of soft hue,
buoying, breezing thru sky’s blue.
As bulging blimps softly soar,
we’ll skim on past Heaven’s shore.
Dallying forth on dewy dough,
in no hurry off we go.
Up to the clouds, follow me,
and glide and gambol gleefully.
When dusk descends down below,
that’s when we to home must go.
As I like to say, my heart belongs to writing but my soul belongs to poetry.