This page will be used to share "extra" thoughts and ideas not necessarily related to the Native American Flute or drum but of possible interest to the visitors to our site. Most items will carry the spirit of the Cherokee, or of other Native American peoples.
This poem paying tribute to a great Cherokee was contributed by the author
for publication on our website. Wado ("thanks") to Kathy for the
opportunity to share it with our visitors. You can contact Kathy at email@example.com.
Al Edwards, of Columbia, MO, was looking for a special flute when he found this website and requested a custom Golana (raven) themed flute. Al offered this poem to describe his quest and experiences when his flute arrived. Click here to see the flute created for him.
I'm The Ravin, a poor wanderer, a military retiree.
My dearest love is this land, our country. And that is my quandary.
Because I have listened to Grandfather Sun's wise decree,
In my heart I'm an Indian, whose people were once free.
But of late, it seems that my people are, lowly debris.
OH! Great Spirit, to you I send my prayers, from misery.
For all of my days, I've paid honor, to Grandmother Moon.
But upon my chosen path, tribulations have been strewn.
I leave The Offering, to Mother Earth, as if in stone it was hewn.
But it does seem that, to the land of my birth, I'm no longer attune.
I've given the Spirits, and Father Sky, Sacred Smoke's boon.
Can you tell me why, I do not hear Mother Nature's Tune?
On my Life's Journey, You have Counseled and Guided me, thru out my day,
But some how, within this crazy country, I've totally lost my way.
For The Trickster, has succeeded, in leading me astray.
To the heavens, I now send Tobacco's mighty bouquet.
Great Spirit, I call upon you, please, mend this disarray,
Spread this, to the world, let it be known, this communiqué.
The Sacred Sage and Fragrant Cedar, to the sky, I send
With The Holy Sweetgrass, their sacred scent, may it ascend.
The 4 sacred plant are given to the Great Spirit and the 4 Wind.
Trying to find a Craftsman of the Cedar Tree, that's to be my friend.
One who is blessed, with the empathy, that can comprehend
My heart, my mind, my soul, my path, that only he can mend.
For to carry my weak voice aloft, I look for The Flute.
I plead with you Great Spirit, my need is very acute.
Find for me one whose talent and skill are all so astute.
A Craftsman, whose achievements and reputation, are above repute.
Whose mentality will be mighty enough for this curse to commute.
One who can craft for me an instrument from Cedar's Shoot.
This supplication and desire have now been sent forth, far and wide.
I hunt and search the internet for a Craftsman, stateside.
Looking for a worthy one, my wishes now to confide.
One who hath the skill, the cognition, that can be applied
For creation of The Cedar Flute, of Woodpecker's pride.
I beg of thee, Oh Great Spirit, not to let, my wishes, be denied.
Success!! The one I have sought, for so long, has now been found.
For this man's home rests on the road, that they call Turtles Mound.
And what is so amazing. So very unique, that it is profound.
Our history and our training have similarities that abound.
His life and mine are so alike, that they share common ground.
Even our great ancestors are from First Nation's compound.
So now to this Craftsman, this Master, I humbly submit my request.
Making him aware of my motives, my needs, and my quest.
For The Cedar Flute, of Woodpecker's pride, made of wood, blessed.
To be endowed with my Totem, with that spirit, possessed.
This Craftsman understands my need, and he has acquiesced.
To construct an instrument that is known to the North, South, East and West.
As Master of the Sacred Cedar Wood, a Native Flute, he'll create.
My desires, needs and wants, in a Flute he'll fabricate.
First the wood is split, so a router its hunger, can sate.
Two chambers are created, so that they'll interrelate.
Then each section is blessed, rejoined, and secured with its mate.
The preliminary work's done, it's time to finish this Flute's estate.
Now the Cedar Wood is fashioned and molded to lay down it's foundation.
Next comes the baptism of fire, establishing, it's sacred vibration,
Searing six holes, tuning it's voice, for its audible enunciation.
Next, at the foot are now burnt to the 4 Wind, it's basic sanctification.
Prayers to each Spirit, blessing it, giving it it's soul, it's orientation.
What comes next, is most vital, for this is it's heart, NOT ornamentation.
Upon the nest of the Flute, sits Raven, with wings outspread.
There to guide my thoughts and music, thus sending them ahead.
Below the Fetish, rests my Spirit Guide, with arms widespread,
Caressing, encouraging, and nurturing, that shy musical thread.
At the foot, there's Raven flying, waiting to be musically fed.
Giving it's all to The Great Spirit, this winged thoroughbred.
And now this Cedar Flute must be sealed, so it's purity cannot fail,
As with any creation, this Flute must last and prevail.
So by enrobing it with Oil's vale, it will not go stale.
Fabrication and Prayers are done. I now await the mail.
That Dream Flute, Is now in my hands. But, at it's sight, I quail!
This glorious Dream. Am I worthy of playing it's musical scale?
For all of my life, I have dreamt, of a wondrous Flute of perfection.
I have ransacked humanities world, in my investigation.
Finally!! I've found The Flute, of my imagination.
To that talented Artisan, goes heart felt, recognition.
For I've regained a thing lost, with this, my acquisition.
I've succeeded. But, am I a competent musician?
This Flute I now raise, To my lowly lips, for the first time.
And now my lungs do breath life, into that musical rhyme.
I find its impossible to believe that this melody is mine!
From this tremendous Flute, heavenward those beautiful notes do now climb.
To The 4 Wind, and thus to The Great Spirit, they do twine.
Singing his praises, as if I now stood within a Shrine!
John, What have you created? How can this possibly be?
For I'm a simple man, who dost now doubt his sanity,
As I look, at this wonder, that's made of the Cedar Tree.
I now hear the words of The Bard who's describing a new vanity,
For this is now, the life, the death, the rebirth, of my reality.
I have found The Great Flute, that transcends mediocrity.
I tremble, quiver and shiver like a frightened swimmer on that shore
Of vermin infested waters, terror of that music, I adore.
Against all reason, Afraid, my lips to place at Flutes door.
Timidly, that Flute I raise. AND again, my soul doth soar.
Passion's fire rebuilding, my lost musical rapport.
As that flame within my breast, creates a salacious score.
I'm lost to eroticism, that all consuming flame,
That hast burnt away my reason, and any thought inane.
Trapping my incapacitated heart, as my reason is slain!
And still that crazy passion increases, with a lyrical disdain.
As wild music ripples, thru out those challenges and pains.
From that terrifying rhythmic uproar within my veins.
That vicious refrain, hast my body in a grip, so unbreakable.
That my heart is enraptured with desire quite, unmentionable.
Causing my loins to smoulder with passion, insatiable.
Creating a tune that burns with a flame, unquenchable.
That desire for more. For where art the bard and minstrel,
Their words, their passion, their rhythm, that's now so trivial.
I am totally lost, to the refrain, of that musical campaign.
That uses my fingers, tongue, and lips, for legerdemain.
For I've now the Privilege, Honor, of crafting that domain.
Because of this Marvel, that this Great Craftsman hast ordain.
For It's like an exquisite beverage, a sparkly champagne!
For inebriation, intoxication, drunkenness, now have reign!
Relaxation... Now my heart, mind and soul, slowly recover from that daze.
As I send, to that talented Craftsman, Benedictions and words of praise.
That Maestro, whose mind and heart, affectionately, musically essays.
Crafting our Thoughts and Spirits into a glorious reality, ablaze.
Fabricating magical musical instruments, that to our lips we'll raise.
That allow anyone to make, wondrous, harmonious, musical, lays...
by Al Edwards, Columbia, MO
Joan Davis, of Cucamonga, CA, belongs to an on-line group in which a satisfied customer, Al Edwards (see above) recommended she contact me regarding a flute. When Joan first contacted me about a Tsula (fox) flute that was available, I told her that I had a sweet little Alaskan yellow cedar that was in the finishing room and just a couple days of being ready to ship. That's the one she selected, and when it arrived, she sent me a message saying, "It is just what I would have asked for if I had ordered a custom flute, and yet it was already made and waiting for me even before I first visited your site." She also included the following poem in that message.
by Joan Davis, Cucamonga, CA
Send mail to firstname.lastname@example.org with
questions or comments about this web site.