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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Contents       Introduction                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Poems  from  Indigenous  Oceania                                                                                                                                                                                    

The  Mountains  of  Ta’ū                                                                                                                                                                                            

 

Te  One-­‐Roa-­‐a-­‐Tohe                                                                                                                                                                                                        

 

Easter  Sunday                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

 

Over  Ponsonby                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

 

Site                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

 

Stretch                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

 

Creatures                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

 

Sometimes  the  Black  Star  Forgets…                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Poems  from  Beyond  Oceania                                                                                                                                                                                            

The  Bear                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

 

Angle  of  Geese                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

 

Earth  and  I  Gave  You  Turquoise                                                                                                                                                    

 

Pit  Viper                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

 

Bueto  Regalis                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Biographical  Research                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Albert  Wendt                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

 

N  Scott  Momaday                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Poetry  Analysis-­‐Oceania    

Catherine Coleman

 

 

 

 

 

                                                 

Poetry  Analysis-­‐Beyond  Oceania      

 

 

 

 

                     

Original  Poetry    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     

 

She  Knows      

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     

 

Go  to  Sleep      

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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The  Most  Deadly  Place  of  All    

 

 

 

 

                       

 

Go  Fish    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

The  Choice      

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

Life      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

Dreams    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

Concrete  Poem    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

Commentaries    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

 

 

 

 

                       

 

 

 

 

                       

 

 

 

                                                 

 

Commentary  on  Poem    

 

Commentary  on  Concrete  Poem    

Bibliography      

 

 

 

                                 

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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IN  LOVING  MEMORY  OF  BETTY  LOUISE  POTTER                                  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Introduction     This  book  serves  many  purposes.  It  was  made  to  teach,  to  compare,  to   contrast,  to  connect,  and  to  perpetuate.    This  book  takes  poetry  from  Oceania  and   from  beyond  Oceania  and  brings  them  together  to  fulfill  all  of  these  purposes.  Inside   readers  will  find  a  great  mix  of  poetry  and  concrete  poetry  that  will  not  only  get  the   readers’  minds  working,  but  all  of  their  senses  as  well.  This  will  let  the  readers   experience  poetry  in  a  whole  new  way,  and  hopefully  strike  some  initiative  in   readers  to  maybe  write  and  work  on  their  own  poetry  or  creative  writing.     This  book  also  brings  to  life  some  traditional  practices  from  cultures   unfamiliar  to  readers,  that  they  are  granted  the  chance  to  explore.  These  poems   engage  great  interest  because  they  are  not  only  just  poetic,  but  also  reflect  on  some   of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  or  even  beliefs  and  traditions  of  the  cultures   represented  within  this  book.  It  will  give  people  more  insight  to  these  cultures  and   hopefully  make  them  want  to  learn  and  discover  more.     Readers  will  also  meet  two  authors  through  biographies  about  their  lives  and   about  their  style  of  poetry.  Both  authors,  Albert  Wendt  and  N.  Scott  Momaday  are   very  well  admired  and  not  for  their  writing  skills,  but  also  in  other  creative  elements   such  as  drawing  and  painting.     Finally,  “Colors  of  the  words”  features  some  original  poetry  both  written  and   concrete.  Select  poems  are  later  explained  as  to  what  every  detail  meant  and  why.   This  is  the  connecting,  comparing  and  contrasting  part.  The  readers  will  then  have   three  origins  of  poetry  to  look  through  learn  from,  and  be  inspired  by.    

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Inspiration  is  everywhere,  because  throughout  this  project  I  was  hit  with   waves  of  it.  Everything  from  each  of  the  two  poets  inspired  me,  from  their  usage  of   metaphors,  to  the  deep  culture  intertwined  in  each  line.  These  two  authors  really  lit   a  spark  in  me  that  made  me  crave  knowledge  and  a  deeper  understanding  of  my   culture.  I  chose  these  two  people  for  one  thing  because  I  wanted  an  insight  into  my   own  cultures.  Another  reason  I  chose  them  was  because  they  were  very  well  known   and  well  respected  and  I  knew  that  I  would  be  able  to  learn  a  lot  from  them.  I  really   did  end  up  learning  a  lot,  and  their  work  and  their  life  stories  made  this  project   much  more  enjoyable  for  me.  They  gave  me  a  deeper  meaning  to  me  than  just  a   school  project  to  be  completed.  I  truly  hope  that  others  look  into  this  book  and  enjoy   the  poetry  and  the  messages  that  go  with  them.  These  authors  and  their  various   works  gave  me  a  whole  new  perspective  on  not  only  writing  and  poetry  but  also  on   life.                        

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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POEMS  FROM  INDIGENOUS   OCEANIA    

 

                                         

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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The  Mountains  of  Taʻū   Mountains wouldn’t be mountains without the valleys ravines and sea level they rise up from They are the rising high of sight propped up by stone earth and sky They can’t be any other thing (and they know it) They are the eyes of the earth gazing out gazing inwards contemplating the future on the horizon line and in the depths of the whirling retina These mountains the mountains of Taʻū are locked arm to arm blood to blood and live in one another’s thoughts They hum like spinning tops of Maui’s endlessly inventing mind on fine mornings when the mist lifts and the horizons open to the promise of what may be They creak and crack like old aoa trees as they dry in the sun and the river dives and digs for it roots and fat pigeons nibble the day away on the sweet black berries of mosoʻoi and in the cold rock pools Atua wash off the night’s stale smell of sex and perfume their twisting hair with laumaile leaves and for dear life trees and creeper cling onto sharp slope and cliff and the air is thick with long messages of death in the falling They whisper together in the evenings in talk only they can hear as the dark turns all languages into one shape of the tongue and the ravenous flyingfox chases the ripe-papaya moon and comic aitu squeal in the waterfall

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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They sleep best on stormy nights when they can’t hear one another’s sleep-chatter and the wind massages their aching spines with tender hands These mountains the mountains of Taʻū are above the violence of arrogant men They now fit my eyes and heart exactly like a calm river is snug in the hand of its bed I am of their rising I am of their dreaming and they of mine These mountains the mountains of Taʻū

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Te One-Roa-a-Tohe We tried but no camera can take in one shot the whole stretch of Te One-Roa-a-Tohe as it paths the spirits of the Dead up to Te Reigna (Reina’s Dead from Murihiku journey here too) We saw the flax bending as the spirits passed Heard them whispering amond the dunes and their rustling in the manuka Later we stood in front of the lighthouse and photographed the sacred pohutukawa down on the precarious eastern face of the headland I imagined the spirits leaping from it into the prophetic current that will carry them to Hawaiki where the ancestral explorer Kupe came from to name and detail Maui’s Ika We photographed each other against the immense sky Ahead the Tasman and the Pacific embraced in turbulent whirlpools In Samoa my Dead gather at the Fafa at Falealupo where the La sets and the Po begins On the beach the men bath in one rock pool the women in the other then they walk the lava path into the sea and dive for Pulotu Falealupo is the home of Atua Nafunua who ruled for three hundred years until the first Catholic priests converted Her congregation You can still visit the lava cave where pilgrims through Her divining taulaaitu sought Her help and prophecies Once with Soifua Her Tuua I visited Her temple – a tiered pyramid of stones and boulders now overgrown with forest and Christianity (No one dares clear Her refuge) For that long sad silence that weaves all things She held us in Her green gaze In times of trouble the matai council still meets at night in Soifua’s maota They leave one row of blinds facing the west raised for Nafanua to enter for the inventive consultation Her direct descendent is now Cardinal of Polynesia Outlawed atua have surprising ways of conquering the present

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

58:b0:35:a5:cd:9c


Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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POEMS FROM BEYOND OCEANIA

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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THE  BEAR       What  ruse  of  vision,   escarping  the  wall  of  leaves,   rending  incision   into  countless  surfaces,    

would  cull  and  color     his  somnolence,  whose  old  age   has  outworn  valor,   all  but  the  fact  of  courage?  

  Seen,  he  does  not  come,     move,  but  seems  forever  there,   dimensionless,  dumb   in  the  windless  noon’s  hot  glare.     More  scarred  than  others   these  ears  since  the  trap  maimed  him,   pain  slants  his  withers,   drawing  up  the  crooked  limb.     Then  he  is  gone,  whole,     without  urgency,  from  sight     as  buzzards  control,   imperceptibly,  their  flight.    

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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ANGLE  OF  GEESE       How  shall  we  adorn   Recognition  with  our  speech?     Now  the  dead  firstborn   Will  lag  in  the  wake  of  words.       Custom  intervenes;     More  than  language  means,   We  are  civil,  something  more:   The  mute  presence  mulls  and  marks.       Almost  of  a  mind,   We  take  measure  of  the  loss;     I  am  slow  to  find   The  mere  margin  of  repose.       And  one  November   It  was  no  longer  in  the  watch,     As  if  forever,   Of  the  huge  ancestral  goose.       So  much  symmetry!   Like  the  pale  angle  of  time     And  eternity.   The  great  shape  labored  and  fell.       Quit  of  hope  and  hurt,   It  held  a  motionless  gaze,     Wide  of  time,  alert   On  the  dark  distant  flurry.  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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EARTH  AND  I  GAVE  YOU  TURQUOISE           Earth  and  I  gave  you  turquoise       when  you  walked  singing     We  lived  laughing  in  my  house       and  told  stories     You  grew  ill  when  the  owl  cried   We  will  meet  on  Black  Mountain         I  will  bring  corn  for  planting     and  we  will  make  fire   Children  will  come  to  your  breast     You  will  heal  my  heart   I  speak  your  name  many  times   The  wild  cane  remembers  you     My  young  brother’s  house  is  filled     I  go  there  to  sing   We  have  not  spoken  of  you     But  our  songs  are  sad   When  Moon  Woman  goes  to  you   I  will  follow  her  white  way     Tonight  they  dance  near  Chinle     by  the  seven  elms   There  your  loom  whispered  beauty     They  will  eat  mutton   and  drink  coffee  till  morning   You  and  I  will  not  be  there     I  saw  a  crow  by  Red  Rock     standing  on  one  leg   It  was  the  black  of  your  hair     The  years  of  your  heavy   I  will  ride  the  swiftest  horse   You  will  hear  the  drumming  hooves  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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PIT  VIPER              

Catherine Coleman

The  cordate  head  meanders  through  himself:   Metamorphosis.  Slowly  the  new  thing,   Kindeled  to  flares  along  his  length,  curves  out.   From  the  evergreen  shade  where  he  has  lain,   Through  inland  seas  and  catacombs  he  moves.   Blurred  eyes  that  ever  see  have  seen  him  waste,   Acquire,  and  undiminished:  have  seen  death-­‐-­‐-­‐   Or  simile-­‐-­‐-­‐come  nigh  and  overcome.   Alone  among  his  kind,  old,  almost  wise,   Mere  hunger  cannot  urge  him  from  this  drowse.                                                                  

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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BUTEO  REGALIS         His  frailty  discrete,  the  rodent  turns,  looks.     What  sense  first  warns?  The  winging  is  unheard,   Unseen  but  as  distant  motion  made  whole,   Singular,  slow,  unbroken  in  its  glide.   It  veers,  and  veering,  tilts  broad-­‐surfaced  wings.   Aligned,  the  span  bends  to  begin  the  dive   And  falls,  alternately  white  and  russet,   Angle  and  curve,  gathering  momentum.                                                                      

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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BIOGRAPHICAL  RESEARCH                                                                                      

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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ALBERT  WENDT,  A  MAN  TO  REMEMBER     Born  in  1939  and  of  German  heritage,  Albert  Wendt  is  a  native  Oceanic   author,  poet,  and  painter.  He  was  born  in  Apia,  Samoa  and  is  now  living  in  Auckland,   Aotearoa.  Wendt  proudly  states  his  hometown  as  Aotearoa-­‐Samoa  and  says  “In  my   mind  and  in  my  heart,  culturally  it’s  one”  (Wendt,  Pacific  Starmap).   In  his  early  life  Wendt  became  interested  in  the  arts.  “When  my  Grandma  told   me  stories.  Even  though  Samoan  culture  in  those  days  didn’t  have  many  books,  my   Grandmother  and  the  other  elders  told  us  lots  of  stories,”  he  explains  as  to  how  he   became  interested,  (Wendt,  Pacific  Starmap).  Wendt  later  first  started  writing  when   he  came  to  New  Zealand  on  a  scholarship  to  attend  high  school  in  New  Plymouth.  “I   have  always  been  interested  in  telling  stories  so,  when  I  went  to  high  school  in  New   Plymouth,  I  started  writing  and  some  of  my  work  was  published  in  school   magazines,”  (Wendt,  Pacific  Starmap).  Wendt  recalls  from  when  he  first  got  into   writing.  Following  high  school  Wendt  continued  on  to  study  at  Ardmore  Teachers   College  located  near  Auckland  at  the  Victoria  University  of  Wellington.  He  received   an  M.A  in  history  there  and  his  Masters  thesis  was  about  the  Mau.  The  Mau   movement  was  to  promote  Samoa’s  independence  movement  from  colonialism   during  the  1900s.  This  movement  eventually  resulted  later  in  the  political   independence  of  Samoa  in  1962.  Wendt’s  thesis  was  titled  “Guardians  and  Wards:  A   study  of  the  origins,  causes  and  the  first  two  years  of  the  Mau  in  Western  Samoa”   (Wendt,  Pacific  Starmap).  

Catherine Coleman

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Later  in  1965  Albert  Wendt  returned  to  Western  Samoa  and  became  the   principal  of  Samoa  College.  Then  in  1974  he  moved  to  Fiji  and  was  named  Deputy       Vice  Chancellor  and  Professor  of  Pacific  literature  at  the  University  of  the  South   Pacific.  Continuing  to  move  forward  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  English  at  the   University  of  Auckland  in  1988.  Thirteen  years  later  in  2001  he  was  awarded   Companion  of  the  Order  of  New  Zealand  because  of  his  services  to  literature.  Then   in  2004  Wendt  was  awarded  the  Nikkei  Asia  Prize  for  Culture  in  Japan.  That  year  he   was  also  elected  Citizen’s  Chair  at  the  University  of  Hawaiʻi  at  Manoa.  Furthermore   Wendt  also  has  two  honorary  doctorates  from  the  University  of  Burgoyne,  France   and  Victoria  University,  Wellington  (Wendt,  Wikipedia).   Besides  his  many  educational  advances  throughout  his  life,  Albert  was  also   very  successful  in  his  publications.  Wendt  has  six  novels,  four  collections  of  short   stories,  four  collections  of  poetry,  one  play,  and  has  edited  many  anthologies  of   Pacific  literature.  Besides  that  he  has  written  academic  essays.  These  essays  are   influential  and  have  helped  in  shaping  the  thinking  about  the  Pacific  and  its  cultures.   Some  of  his  writing  has  even  been  translated  into  multiple  languages  and  shared  all   over  the  world.  Two  of  his  novels  were  so  inspirational,  that  they  were  produced   into  feature  films,  but  above  all  that,  two  documentaries  have  been  made  focusing   on  him,  his  life,  and  his  work.  When  asked  about  good  advice  that  he  was  given   throughout  his  career,  Albert  replies  “Its  not  really  advice,  but  I  was  heavily   influenced  by  the  work  of  Allstair  Campbell,  Hone  Tuwhare  and  Jacqul  Sturm  and   others  working  in  the  1950’s  and  60’s.  I  modeled  my  writing  on  their  work.    

Catherine Coleman

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Similarly,  my  work  is  now  influencing  younger  writers.  So,  the  best  thing  Pacific   writers  can  do  is  to  read  the  work  of  other  indigenous  writers  in  Aotearoa,  the   Pacific,  and  the  world.  Plus  they  also  have  to  be  dedicated  to  their  writing”  (Wendt,   Pacific  Starmap)   Albert  Wendt  has  won  many  awards  for  his  writing  and  is  considered  a  very   influential  and  pioneering  novelist,  poet  and  academic,  and  the  first  Pacific  island   professor  in  New  Zealand.  Albert  Wendt  has  made  his  mark  on  Oceania  through  his   multiple  works,  many  of  them  leaving  readers  wanting  more,  and  not  only  more  of   his  writing,  but  also  wanting  to  find  out  more  about  their  own  culture.  In  his  poems   “The  Mountains  of  Taʻū”  and  “Te  One-­‐Roa-­‐a-­‐Tohe,”  Wendt’s  poems  are  like  a  movie   trailer,  letting  readers  sneak  a  peak  at  what  his  culture  is  like.  This  sparks  curiosity   and  interest  in  readers,  to  not  only  find  out  more  about  his  culture,  but  to  also  find   out  more  about  their  own  heritage.  Some  of  his  concrete  poems  like  “Easter   Sunday,”  “Over  Ponsoby,”  “Site,”  and  many  others  strike  the  readers  visually  while   also  lighting  this  fire  to  learn  more.  These  are  the  reasons  why  he  is  thought  of  as  so   influential  and  pioneering,  because  in  a  time  of  cultural  dilemma,  he  stays  connected   to  his  roots.            

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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N. SCOTT MOMADAY, A MAN TO BE THANKFUL FOR   Son  of  the  writer  Natachee  Scott  Momaday  (mother)  and  the  painter  Al   Momaday  (father),  Navarre  Scott  Momaday  is  a  Kiowa-­‐Cherokee  prize-­‐winning   writer.  Navarre  was  born  on  February  27,  1934  at  the  Kiowa-­‐Comanche  Indian   Hospital  in  Lawton,  Oklahoma.  He  is  a  part  of  the  Kiowa  Tribe  of  Oklahoma  and  also   receives  Cherokee  heritage  from  his  mother’s  side  of  the  family.  Momaday  lived  on   the  reservation  until  he  was  a  year  old  and  he  moved  to  Arizona.  Growing  up  he   learned  of  many  cultures  because  his  parents  both  worked  on  Native  American   reservations  and  Scott  was  exposed  to  Kiowa,  Navajo,  Apache,  and  Pueblo  Native   American  cultures  of  the  Southwest.  Early  on  he  began  to  want  to  write  literature,   focusing  on  poetry  and  he  grew  an  appreciation  for  stories  and  the  healing  power  of   their  words  (Momaday,  Oklaholma  State  University).   Momaday  attended  school  at  the  University  of  New  Mexico,  where  he   received  his  bachelor’s  degree  in  political  science.  He  then  submitted  a  few  poems  to   a  creative  writing  contest  that  was  being  sponsored  by  Stanford  University,  which  is   how  he  met  his  mentor  Ivor  Winters.  Winters,  who  was  a  professor  and  established   poet,  got  Momaday  a  scholarship  where  he  remained  to  earn  a  masters  degree  and  a   Ph.D  in  English  literature  in  1963.  Momaday  did  all  this  while  continuing  to  write   poetry  and  fiction.  He  also  accepted  a  teaching  post  at  the  University  of  California  at   Santa  Barbara.  For  his  dissertation,  Momaday  edited  and  annotated  the  complete  

Catherine Coleman

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works of the 19th century American poet Frederick Goddard Tuckerman that was published by Oxford University Press in 1965 (Momaday, Academy of Achievement). Momaday  publishes  voluminously.  In  1969  he  wrote  his  first  novel  House   Made  of  Dawn.  This  was  awarded  the  Pulitzer  Prize  for  fiction,  while  also  causing  a   breakthrough  of  Native  American  literature  into  the  mainstream.  Momaday  also   wrote  many  autobiographies  that  included  The  Journey  of  Tai-­me,  The  Way  to  Rainy   Mountain,  and  The  Names:  A  Memoir.  All  of  these  were  written  based  on  Kiowa   stories,  tales  and  myths.  The  purpose  was  to  build  a  memorabilia  for  a  record  of  the   family  and  tribal  history.  Momaday  also  wrote  two  novels,  House  Made  of  Dawn,  and   The  Ancient  Child.  These  stories  shed  light  upon  the  marginalization  that  American   Indians  suffered  and  the  attempts  they  made  to  mediate  their  internal  struggles   while  reconnecting  with  their  heritage  (Momaday,  Oklaholma  State  University).   Momaday  also  created  multiple  poems  and  stories  titled  “Angle  of  Geese  and  Other   Poems,”  “The  Gourd  Dancer,”  “In  the  Presence  of  the  Sun:  Stories  and  Poems,”  and   “In  the  Bear’s  House.”  The  Bear’s  House  collection  shows  the  fascination  with  the   bear  figure  that  is  a  Kiowa  healing  force  between  the  human  and  spirit  worlds.  In   Bear’s  House  he  has  poetry,  dialogue,  drawings  and  paintings.  He  combines Kiowa and Christian beliefs showing a great fusion between two different cultures (Momaday,   Oklaholma  State  University). Besides  all  of  his  writing  achievements  Momaday  was  also  featured  in  Ken  Burn’s   and  Stephen  Ive’s  documentary  called  The  West.  He  was  later  also  featured  in  the   PBS  documentary  regarding  the  Battle  of  the  Little  Bighorn.  “I  sometimes  think  the  

Catherine Coleman

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contemporary  white  American  is  more  culturally  deprived  than  the  Indian”   (Momaday,  Wikipedia).  Is  one  of  the  things  that  Momaday  said  regarding  his  work.   This  shows  why  he  is  so  culturally  knowledgeable  and  tied  to  his  roots.  In  1992   Momaday  received  the  first  Lifetime  Achievement  Award  from  the  Native  Writers’   Circle  of  the  Americas.  Fifteen  years  later  in  2007  he  was  awarded  National  Medal  of   Arts  by  former  George  W.  Bush.  Then  two  years  ago  he  received  an  honorary  Doctor   of  Humane  Letters  from  the  University  of  Illinois  at  Chicago  on  May  9,  2010.  “I   simply  kept  my  goal  in  mind  and  persisted.  Perseverance  is  a  large  part  of  writing”   (Momaday,  Wikipedia).    Through  all  of  his  writing  I  believe  that  his  true  goal  is  to  remind  people  of   the  importance  of  their  culture.  He  also  reminds  them  of  the  importance  of   everyone’s  own  identity,  by  staying  firmly  connected  to  his  culture.  In  all  of  his   poems  he  references  things  that  are  important  to  his  Native  American  culture.  For   instance,  in  “The  Bear,”  he  speaks  about  this  all-­‐powerful  bear  that  is  actually  a  very   important  Native  American  symbol.  Then  again  he  shows  his  cultural  ties  in  “Earth   and  I  Gave  You  Turquoise.”  In  this  poem  he  refers  to  turquoise  that  is  very   prominent  in  myths  and  folklore  of  Southwest  Indians.  There  are  traditions  and   virtues  that  go  along  with  it  proclaiming  that  the  wearer  will  receive  good  fortune.   These  references  not  only  enhance  the  beauty  of  his  poem,  as  well  as  keep  those   parts  of  his  culture  everlasting.  Lastly,  he  hints  a  warning  to  keep  each  person’s   culture  safe  in  his  poem  “Bueto  Regalis.”  This  poem  alludes  that  there  is  something   coming  that  will  bring  harm.  No  one  knows  what  it  is,  but  they  can  sense  that   something  will  happen.  I  connected  this  to  the  coming  of  westerners  and  how  they  

Catherine Coleman

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greatly  changed  many  native  cultures.  These  are  just  a  few  examples  of  how   Momaday  has  perpetuated  his  culture  while  also  warning  others  to  do  the  same.  He   has  really  made  a  mark  not  only  in  literature,  but  also  culturally.  Everyone  should  be   thankful  for  his  reminder  that  your  culture  is  who  you  are  and  is  important.    

                                         

Catherine Coleman

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POETRY  ANALYSIS       OCEANIA                                            

Catherine Coleman

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THE FORGETFUL STAR

“Sometimes the Black Star Forgets” is my favorite poem from Albert Wendt’s collection of poems in Whetu Moana. This poem is my favorite because it is very diverse and there are multiple layers that can be uncovered. This poem is very visually striking and has an image that not only grasps the audience’s attention, but is also an essential piece to the poem. There is also a striking amount of visual tension engulfing this concrete poem. The poem begins describing this “black star.” The poem describes how the star is trying to stop our fears, and it concludes with everything spiraling out of control. There are a multitude of different types of literary devices that Wendt utilizes in this poem. He writes “Sometimes the black star forgets it doesn’t have a heart.” This itself has multiple techniques. One is that the author is personifying this black star by giving it human traits or abilities like the ability to forget. Then there is some allusion that this black star is a real and living thing, but the author then is paradoxical because the star is living, but it has no heart. This leaves readers with many questions to mull over. What is this black star? How can it live and forget, but still have no heart? These are the types of questions that got me hooked into the poem, reading with a craze to find out what the author meant. The poem then goes on to say that the black star is trying to heal our fears as they spiral out. This part of the poem adds suspense and alludes that there is something that is scary or harmful that the black star is trying to shield or protect the people. Lastly, the poem

Catherine Coleman

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mentions that things are spiraling out into our Mokopuna’s eyes. This could symbolize the shifting and changing in the world and how our elders watch as everything they new about the world changes, evolves and develops. The amount and depth of kaona in this poem is so outstanding and is very relevant to current situations that we live in. We are constantly having inward battles over our cultural ties and our new and changing world. The value of money over traditions is a question in the minds of most and this gives perspective to how the older generation feels seeing all of their culture unwind. This book also really relates to the struggles seen in Potiki. Roimata and Hemi are like the mokopuna in the poem watching as all they held dear seemed to be torn from them. All of these connections make this poem very meaningful. Finally, the icing on the cake is that the poem was written in a spiral formation. The beginning starting in the middle and ending spiraled out. Besides representing the things that are spiraling out of control like it was mentioned in the poem, this also resembles an eye. To me this is the eye of the mokopuna always watching, always seeing. This poem has impressed a great wonder upon me so that it is my favorite amongst his collection.

Catherine Coleman

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POETRY ANALYSIS BEYOND OCEANIA

Catherine Coleman

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THE  WARNING     “Buteo  Regalis”  is  my  favorite  poem  by  Navarre  Scott  Momaday  in  Voices   from  WAH’KON-­TAH  Contemporary  Poetry  of  Native  Americans.  This  poem  is  a  very   striking  poem  as  it  holds  much  mystery  and  clues  hidden  deep  within  each  line.   “Buteo  Regalis”  also  powerfully  connects  to  the  lives  of  not  only  Native  Americans,   but  also  all  native  indigenous  people.   The  poem  begins  describing  a  rodent  that  is  sensing  the  arrival  of  something,   something  that  is  at  the  moment  unknown  to  the  readers.  As  readers  continue,  they   can  guess  from  clues  left  in  the  lines  that  this  predator  is  the  great  eagle.  Suddenly  at   the  conclusion  of  the  poem  one  can  see  the  eagle  gathering  momentum  to  make  a   move  on  his  prey.  The  whole  conflict  in  the  poem  foreshadows  and  alludes  that   something  bad  is  going  to  happen  to  this  rodent.  The  poem  also  alludes  that  the   rodent’s  attacker  is  very  swift  and  discreet,  a  very  careful  predator.  There  is  also   foreshadowing  that  something  is  going  to  happen  to  the  rodent  and  that  it  will  be  by   the  cause  of  this  winged  animal  that  is  coming  in  the  distance.     This  poem  can  be  a  symbol  for  multiple  things.  It  can  express  true  culture  of   which  the  Native  Americans  are  like  the  eagle  swooping  down  on  their  prey  and   conquering  in  their  own  kingdom.  The  eagle  is  also  very  sacred  to  Native  Americans,   so  it  could  be  a  spiritual  connection.  This  is  a  connection  almost  as  if  their  god  is   coming  down  upon  them  and  they  can  tell  because  of  all  of  the  signs.     I  connected  this  to  S.N  Haleole’s Lāʻiekawai because when Kaʻōnohiakalā comes to the islands to be with Lāʻiekawai, he is preceded by multiple warnings. The

Catherine Coleman

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earth and the elements all give off signs that something great is about to come. That is why I related to that because the rodent is feeling all these signs that this greatness is soon to be upon him. Another thing that this poem could symbolize is the westerners and the effects they had on the native people and their indigenous tribes. In this case the Native Americans are the rodents waiting to be feasted upon by the great soaring creature looming in the distance. In this way the native people know something is coming, but they have no idea just what they are in for. This could all be a greater symbolism for how the westerners came from afar with only signs and swept in, changing the lives of a myriad of people. If the eagle is their sacred spirit and it is what is attacking them, does it mean that their own culture is killing them? Maybe the reason Native Americans were hurt so badly was because they didn’t just give in to western powers; instead, they held fast to their roots and in the end that’s what destroyed them. This is where I connect this poem to Patricia Grace’s Potiki because like the Native Americans, the family held on to their culture and this caused the westerners to become desperate, flooding, burning, and finally killing. This poem leaves us all in dismay and wonder, do we take the risk and hold on to what is ours, or do we just let it go and accept the change?

Catherine Coleman

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ORIGINAL POETRY

Catherine Coleman

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SHE  KNOWS     She  knows.     The  girl  watches,     and  she  knows.     She  sees  and  hears  and  feels  her  family  members’  sadness  and  fears     and  then  she  knows.     She  swallows  and  blinks   and  still  she  knows.     She  needs  to  be  strong,   strong  for  her  mother,     strong  for  her  grandmother,   strong  for  her  father,     and  especially  strong  for  her  sister,   of  that  she  knows.     She  laughs  it  off  and  lightens  the  mood,     while  pressing  down  her  emotions  so  deeply  and  so  far  away  with  strong  urgency.   Yes,  she  knows.     She  does  this  until  she  herself  doesn’t  even  know     if  she  has  any  feelings  at  all.                

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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GO  TO  SLEEP     In  comfort,   the  stars  and  moons  swirl  around     like  looking  through  a  kaleidoscope.     STOP!     She  screams  at  herself.     She  doesn’t  want  to  hear  the  things  she  does.     She  wants  her  worries  to  seep  away     so  she  can  be  free,     but  she  is  a  slave  to  her  own  mind.     SLEEP!     She  begs,     stop  thinking  and  just  let  me  go.     She  drifts  away  consumed  by  the  comfort  of  her  sturdy  bed,     surrounding  blankets,     and  cushioning  pillow;     let  me  dream,  she  begs,  closing  her  eyes.                      

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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THE  MOST  DEADLY  PLACE  OF  ALL     Running,  hustling,  bustling  movement.     Competition  at  its  finest.     Clothes,  hair,  shoes,  beauty  all  are  trophies  to  be  won,     but  by  whom?     And  what’s  the  price?     Not  even  dogs  are  like  this,  going  at  each  other  like  they  do,     always  at  each  other’s  throats.     Hopeful     and  fun  while  being  careful  not  to  become  ignorant.     Watch  your  back,  their  subconscious  tells  them.     High  school  is  the  most  deadly  place  of  all.                                

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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GO  FISH     Go  fish     they  say  and  pick  up  a  card,     but  do  they  forget  the  pain  it  is  in  knowing  there  wasn’t  a  match?     Go  fish     they  say  but  they  do  not  know  how  much  longing  you  feel  for  them.    Go  fish     they  say  but  it’s  hard  to  know;  will  it  all  just  happen  again?     Go  fish     they  say  with  love  unreturned,     there  are  plenty  of  fish  in  the  sea.                                  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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THE  CHOICE     An  inward,  battle  to  be;  or  not  to  be,  well,  either  way  I  choose  to  be  me.                                                  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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LIFE       Life  changes  and  changes     rearranging  the  pieces;  you  never  know  how  you  will  turn  out.   What  path  you  will  take?    You  only  live  once,     a  good  motto  to  have;     so  live  to  the  fullest     for  as  long  as  you  can.                                      

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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DREAMS     Dreams,     what  cruel  things   tantalizing  us  with  our  innermost  desires,   giving  it  to  us,  oh,  so  easily,   granting  our  wishes,  fulfilling  our  deeds,   but  how  do  we  feel  when  we  wake  up     and  POOF!     Everything  good  we  had  gone?     A  longing,  a  hoping,  a  wishing  to  please,   let  me  relive  my  dream  again  please.     Forget  Dr.  Seuss,     I  know  what  I  want,   to  lay  down  and  dream  forever     and  live  how  I  want.     For  dreams  really  are     and  can  really  be     anything  wished  upon;     I  just  hope  they  never  leave  me.      

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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COMMENTARIES                        

 

             

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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MORE  THAN  JUST  A  CARD  GAME     My  poem  titled  “Go  Fish”  makes  references  towards  the  well-­‐known  card   game,  while  also  relating  it  to  a  saying  one  often  hears  when  dealing  with   relationships  and  love.  This  poem  has  a  meaning  that  can  be  hidden  from  the   readers  until  the  final  line,  and  has  a  lot  of  literary  techniques  embedded  in  it.     To  begin  the  poem,  the  first  and  second  line  make  the  reader  instantly   interested  in  figuring  out  what  is  going  on.  “Go  fish  they  say  and  pick  up  a  card,”  this   vague  remark  alludes  that  an  event  has  taken  place  while  also  leaving  mystery  for   the  future  and  what  will  happen.  More  allusion  comes  in  next  on  the  third  line,  “but   do  they  forget  the  pain  it  is  in  knowing  there  wasn’t  a  match?”  This  line  leaves  the   reader  wondering.  Why  is  there  such  pain  in  a  simple  card  game?  Is  there  more   kaona  that  could  make  this  mean  something  much  more?  As  the  reader  continues  to   read  they  can  start  picking  up  on  some  dramatic  irony  as  the  story  begins  to  unfold.   “Go  fish  they  say  but  they  do  not  know  how  much  longing  you  feel  for  them.”  I   layered  a  sense  of  irony  on  top  of  these  lines.  In  one  way  the  irony  is  that  the  person   doesn’t  know  how  the  other  feels  towards  them.  On  the  other  hand  the  irony  is  that   the  reader  doesn’t  know  why  there  is  this  great  longing  in  the  first  place;  it’s  just  a   card  game  after  all.  When  writing  this  I  hinted  further  at  the  true  meaning  of  this   poem  in  the  following  lines  “Go  fish  they  say  but  its  hard  to  know  will  it  all  just  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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happen  again?”  These  lines  make  the  reader  flashback  to  the  beginning  of  the  poem   and  wonder  what  it  is  that  is  going  to  happen  again?  It  is  also  foreshadowing  the   repetition  of  the  recent  event  that  remains  shrouded.  With  all  of  this  tension  and   wonder  building  up  in  the  poem,  I  closed  it  in  these  last  few  lines,  putting  all  the   pieces  together.  “Go  fish  they  say  with  love  unreturned,  there  are  plenty  of  fish  in   the  sea.”  Those  last  three  lines  were  fundamental  for  everything  to  make  sense  and   in  making  the  meaning  of  the  poem  come  to  light.   “There  are  plenty  of  fish  in  the  sea,”  that  was  the  phrase  I  mentioned  in  the   beginning  of  this  piece.  It  is  often  used  to  describe  relationships  and  to  tell  a   heartbroken  person  not  to  worry  because  there  are  many  other  people  out  there.  In   this  poem  I  showed  the  part  that  people  don’t  tell  others  about.  The  part  when  their   heart  gets  broken.  I  made  references  to  the  game  go  fish  to  not  only  add  some   mystery,  but  to  also  compare.  The  goal  of  this  was  to  let  the  readers  think  more   deeply  into  the  poem  and  into  their  own  lives  as  well.  This  poem  was  fun  and  good-­‐ natured  but  also  came  with  a  purpose.                

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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THE  CONNECTIONS   My  concrete  poem  titled  “Collision”  was  made  in  such  a  way  that  every  fine   detail  was  important  for  the  reader  to  see  the  entire  vision.  I  used  some  literary   devices  while  focusing  mainly  on  visual  impact.  A  lot  of  visual  tension  is  shown,  and   in  the  end  the  poem  could  be  interpreted  in  many  ways.      

To  begin,  I  created  the  scenery.  I  began  with  a  picture  of  flowers  attached  to  

and  all  around  the  bottom  of  a  fence.  I  tore  out  a  jagged  part  of  the  picture,  then   ripped  the  picture  up  into  multiple  diagonal  strips.  When  I  was  done  I  began  gluing   them  back  so  that  the  picture  came  together  again,  but  I  left  open  slight  gaps   between  each  piece.  Then  I  tore  out  a  picture  of  clouds  in  the  sky.  I  crumpled  up  this   picture  and  then  attached  it  to  the  paper  just  above  the  strips.  To  the  right  of  the   cloud  picture,  I  then  added  a  picture  that  I  tore  into  two  pieces  of  the  setting  sun.  To   finish  my  poem,  I  began  to  write  words  descending  downward.  They  started  off  light   and  small,  ending  up  dark  and  big  at  the  bottom.  Each  word  was  either  a  physical   verb  or  a  sound  that  would  be  created  from  such  an  effect.  These  words  cascaded   down  in  two  rows  until  at  the  very  bottom  they  mix  together  and  end  with   “Collision.”    

Every  detail  had  a  meaning.  The  ripping  and  tearing  of  the  fence  picture  

could  stand  for  a  lot.  Pieced  back  together  it  looked  the  same,  but  there  was  damage   done.  This  could  stand  for  how  both  Oceanic  and  non-­‐Oceanic  native  peoples  could  

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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have  been  greatly  affected  by  other  more  powerful  races.  In  the  end  they  are  barely   able  to  put  themselves  back  together,  but  they  have  still  lost  a  lot.  Another  way  this   could  be  seen  is  that  every  piece  of  someone  makes  up  who  they  are  and  their   identity.  Without  one  piece  it’s  all  wrong.  The  clouds  and  the  sun  set  picture  also   have  that  meaning,  but  they  also  set  up  the  scene.  With  sky  and  land,  I  assembled   the  words  to  create  rain.  By  drawing  them  downward  they  are  like  raindrops  falling   to  earth.    Another  thing  that  the  two  lines  of  falling  words  can  represent  is  people   and  lineage.  Two  different  races  but  as  they  go  through  time  eventually  they  collide.   What  happens  when  they  collide  is  the  important  thing,  is  it  good,  or  does  it  just   cause  harm?      

All  together  this  poem  tells  the  story  of  our  past  while  trying  to  piece  

together  our  future.  It  reminds  us  to  stay  true  to  who  we  are.  Also  to  accept  every   part  of  our  selves  because  without  our  identity  we  wouldn’t  be  who  we  truly  are.                

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Works Cited "Albert Wendt." Pacific Starmap. Web. 24 Feb. 2012. "Albert Wendt." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 23 Feb. 2012. Web. 24 Feb. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “She Knows.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “Go to Sleep.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “The Most Deadly Place of All.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “Go Fish.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “The Choice.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “Life.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “Dreams.” N.P. 2012. Coleman, Catherine. “Concrete Poem.” N.P. 2012. Dodge, Robert K., and Joseph B. Mccullough. Voices from Wah-kontah Contemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. New York:International, 1974. Print. "MOMADAY, N. SCOTT (1934- )." Oklahoma State University. Web. 28 Feb. 2012. Momaday, Scott. “Angle of Geese.” Voices from Wah-kon-tah Contemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. Ed. Robert Dodge. Joseph McCullough. New York:International, 1974. Print. Momaday, Scott. “Bueto Regalis.” Voices from Wah-kon-tah Contemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. Ed. Robert Dodge. Joseph McCullough. New York:International, 1974. Print. Momaday, Scott. “Earth and I Gave You Turquoise.” Voices from Wahkon-tahContemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. Ed. Robert Dodge. Joseph McCullough. New York:International, 1974. Print.

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Momaday, Scott. “Pit Viper.” Voices from Wah-kon-tah Contemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. Ed. Robert Dodge. Joseph McCullough. New York:International, 1974. Print. Momaday, Scott. “The Bear.” Voices from Wah-kon-tah Contemporary Poetry of Native Americans.With a Foreword by Vine Deloria. Ed. Robert Dodge. Joseph McCullough. New York:International, 1974. Print. "N. Scott Momaday." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 20 Feb. 2012. Web. 28 Feb. "Nzepc - Interview with Albert Wendt." Nzepc. Web. 24 Feb. 2012. "Scott Momaday Biography." -- Academy of Achievement. Web. 28 Feb. 2012. WEWhetu Moana. Ed. Wendt, Albert, Reina Whitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Creatures.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Easter Sunday.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Over Ponsoby.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print.Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Site.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Sometimes the Black Star Forgets.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Stretch.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print. Wendt, Albert. “Te One-Roa-a-Tohe.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print.

Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Wendt, Albert. “The Mountains of Taʻū.” Whetu Moana. Ed. Albert Wendt, Reina Whaitiri, and Robert Sullivan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2003. Print.

Catherine Coleman

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Catherine Coleman

Thursday, May 17, 2012 8:55:34 PM HST

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Colors of the Words