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Donna's Poems
Native American Spoken Here
by Donna Flood

Days  hurry right along,
Oh, I know,  much is gone.

Still and all, once in a while
There is a happening, a style,

Speaking words in by gone ways,
English? No another accent stays,

Is it the practice of clarity and diction,
Masking the words and their inflection?

What catches our attention to hungrily listen?
Remember, reverie, backward in time,  mind glistening?

This youth of present life and conscious modern place.
Yet gives us to feel a longing for another time and race.

This young person's manner, speech and style of the day,
Enunciates with concise, deliberate, statement in a definite way.

We might have been listening to our Chief of old  in an oratory,
Back to other times  when in their speech was strength and glory.

The speech meant very little to those of these days and times,
Only I in my age and wistful longing, do record it in this rhyme.

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