PEACE PIPE (I.P.)
By Linda Wigzell Cress
- 2095 reads
By the shores of Gitche Gumee
By the shining Big-Sea-Water
Hiawatha sat there dreaming
Sat inside the gleaming wigwam
Dreaming of sweet Minehaha
Of his wife called Laughing Water
Of the blessed day he met her
Brought her back to be his woman
Cook the deer and clean the wigwam
Warm his bed and bear his children
Sturdy son and loving daughter.
How beautiful and meek she was then;
How she always tried to please him!
He watched the smoke rings gently rising
Rising to the towering timbers
Long he pondered, drawing deeply
Upon the clay pipe's sweet tobacco
More he mellowed as he wondered
Wondered what the day would bring him.
Suddenly his wife was standing
Pointing at him, eyes all flashing;
But Laughing Water wasn't laughing -
Red of cheek and filled with anger
Loud she shouted at her husband:
'What the hell do you think you're doing
Sitting smoking in the wigwam!
In our clean and fragrant wigwam
With filthy cough and stinking clothing
Get your arse outside and do it.
Go! Do your smoking in the rain!'
The Brave stood up and slowly staggered
Through the flap, peace pipe in hand.
Quite stoned, he fell into the river -
And they never heard from him again.
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Comments
Indrani Ananda Absolutely
Indrani Ananda
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Fabulous work Linda. But
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I love it, Linda, it's
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Stephen King reckons that
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