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Peter Paton

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Member Since: May, 2004

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Featured Book
A Way With Words
by Sara Russell

Four poetry books in one, each one is also available on a separate CD e-book. It contains sound and video recitals...  
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Soliloquy With A Shaman Part 2
by Peter Paton
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Peter Paton
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           >> View all 349

" I cannot think that we are useless or God would not have created us. There is one God looking down on us all. We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say.

I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures." 

                                                                                                                               Apache Chief Geronimo



The Shaman held up his jewel encrusted medicine stick

a heady scent of opium permeated the air

the incessant beating of tom toms

pounded through my brain

my eyes met his, transfixed by his smile

he said I will be to you

like the fungi growing on the tree stump

take what you need from what I say

and sift the rest for another day

your dreams are like the wild, restless buffalo on the plains

and you are still, a long long way from home

his snakeskin rattle flew through the air

spinning in quick revolutions

illustrative pictographs in motion

like in a recurring nightmare, I took it all in

stirring vivid memories and flashbacks

of the harrowing nights I clung to my mother

when terror raged within and without

the medicine man's eyes narrowed

as he fixed me with a benign grin

the tonic for your latent illness

is to start loving yourself

above all else

I started quivering deep down inside

he knew me better than myself

painted cheeks, and emerald eyes

stark reflections of another time

he held my hand in a friendly grip

and comforted me with words of wisdom

I could tell he didn't belong to this earth

as his presence shimmered in psychadelic trance

raven hair bedecked his crown

golden ringlets on his leathery wrists

his force of will was awesome

a man of war, who gave no quarter

and who could kill with just a piercing glance

other men went weak and faint 

if he just came into sight

a screeching owl descended with outstretched talons

across my line of vision

I remained stock still

as his words came tumbling out

the atmosphere was charged and electric

as he chanted in measured , native tongue

and as he silently began to vanish

behind a ritual haze

I heard a barely audible whisper

draw closer to Great Spirit

and Great Spirit will draw closer to you


Copyright by Peter Paton 2006

Soliloquy With A Shaman Part 2

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Reviewed by Gwen Dickerson
Splendid nourishing write, Peter!
Reviewed by A. Santo
Silence is the revelator of wisdoms expressions. Silence is a portal of the unknown uniting with the Eternal. Silence is that peace that passes all limitations, all introspections, and displays in all creation the Voice of the Creator.

To find ones soul path, all they need do is to be silent and absorb the Spirit of Love that encompasses all it creates.

Most eloquently written Peter. Your own wisdoms shine as clear Light here.
Reviewed by Birgit and Roger Pratcher
A beautiful write, painting colorful images!
Birgit and Roger
Reviewed by Dale Clark
Right up my alley, Peter! I really apprecite this
kind of poetry, this type of thought. Excellent!
Reviewed by totally anonymous
very good write, amazing visuals
Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU

I have learned and have enjoyed the reading of this poetic-historic grand. "Soliloquy With A Shaman Part 2".

I salute You, Poet!

Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Reviewed by Paul Williams
A most sagacious and sublime write Peter, excellent work my friend.

Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
This is one very fine the!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Mr. Ed
your dreams are like the wild, restless buffalo on the plains
and you are still, a long long way from home

Marvelous Peter, my dreams sadly often seem the same. That is one marvelous graphic, and I've often been mesmerized by Geronomo's words above, and I'd like to believe that they are true - "We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say."

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Whew! From thhe IRA to the plight of the American Indian. You are standing on the soapbox today, Peter. LOL Nuttin' wrong there, if you believe in what you say and I imagine that you do.
Reviewed by . ignis
In 1858 Geronimo returned home from a trading excursion in Mexico to find his wife, his mother and his three young children murdered by Mexican troops. From then on he took every opportunity to terrorize Mexican settlements and soon after this incident he received his power, which came to him in visions. Geronimo was never a chief, but a medicine man, a seer and a spiritual and intellectual leader both in and out of battle. The Apache chiefs depended on his wisdom. At the end, his group consisted of only 16 warriors, 12 women, and 6 children, who were being pursued by 5,000 U.S. troops, or one-quarter of the entire Army, and perhaps up to 3,000 Mexican soldiers. Geronimo or Goyathlay ("one who yawns") was a token of human courage, perseverance but perhaps above all one who lived by his visions and allowed others to benefit from them too. Great tribute to his spirit.

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Excellent write, Peter; more, more, more!! BRAVO!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
Reviewed by jude forese
awesome! extrememly well-developed portal to enlightenment ... your poetic and spiritual powers excel in this one ...
Reviewed by L. Figgins
Part 2 in a continuing series I hope. Very fine, Peter! Thank you...

Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater
Use your rattles and feathers, Peter. As Soliloquy With A Shaman unfolds in series, over time, it moves problem to resolution. This poem is "talking cures." Using this series to ride other worlds, a container to scoop up the spirits, Great Spirit, the one in the Big Sky!

If you have a moment, I am going to take your audience back to your astronaunt series and tie Soliloquy With A Shaman in with it. Here goes.


Anthropologists have sometimes been asked if it is true Americans have walked on the moon, but the questioners have then added, "But why did they need so much equipment---our shamans don't need any of that! For some villagers in Nepal, the moon is the land of the dead, and the question arises. "Did they meet our dead up there?" A widespread story in Siberia is that when the US astronaut John Glenn reached the moon, he was met and helped by an old white-haired Russian doctor and wise-man called Ivanov, who when he reached the end of his long life, had ascended there from earth. End of Story!

Reviewed by Crystal Silver Angel (Reader)
(((( Peter))))))
I regognize the artist, because I was into many forms of shamanism traveling years with diffrent nations (tribes ) to Pow Wow's.. The work is beautiful, my poet friend

love joanne
Reviewed by E T Waldron
Peter your words and that graphic are outstanding! I'm totally captivated by this series and you have proved how deeply your spirit is aware of the great spirit with whom you are one! Splendid writing ,and one I will read many times. Thanks for sharing !

Reviewed by Phillip William Allen
Excellant pen
Reviewed by Susan de Vegter
Yes!!! Very wise undertones Peter. The key to harmony with man is only reached when man looks within and learns to love himself. Then and only then can he convey true love to another without selfishness in any way. You are wise. You're thinking deep..deeper. I see this with every new poem.
I'm proud of you my friend.
Reviewed by Janet Bellinger
This poem is so evocative, that is made my scalp tingle, when I read it. You have conveyed the power of the shaman, Peter, with your words. I love the graphics, too.

Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner

"He knew me better than I knew myself...." wow, such power and grace in this line, in this entire write; very well penned!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
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