Story Excerpt

The following is a section from a story I have been writing for the past several years. It is based off of a poem I wrote titled "My People" It has no title yet, but I am working on it slowly.

I turned around to look at my village from afar. I could see the smoke curling up from the mamateeks, and men and women walking around doing things. Mamateeks are small cone like structures that we cover with birch bark, and we dig out hollows in which we sleep. I could see Chilili kneeling down scraping the fur off a deer hide. My little brothers were chasing some other children around and laughing. I smiled, as Raven grabbed little white dove’s braid and yanked her to the ground. Her face turned red and they continued running around, except she was chasing them this time.

Still smiling I turned back to my task, hoping I would find something for my Iice (Mother). As I moved on, something caught my eye. It was a small black speck on the horizon, that hadn’t been there before. I stood there gawking at it, completely forgetting why I was there in the first place. I wondered what it was. I thought it might be a bird or something. I waited and waited but the speck really didn’t get much bigger. I quickly gathered some more clams and hurried home. I decided not to mention it to anyone, and I would go out the next day and watch it some more. It had captured my curiosity, and I had to find out what it was.

Memory Lane

I wrote a new poem a few days ago. I hope you like it.

You’re standing on a lonely stone bridge,

Gazing out at the fog covered ridge.

That ridge is your future; both far and near,

Hopes and fears filled with laughter and tears.

Below you the river of life happily bubbling,

Hiding the obstacles with which you are struggling.

It flows on and on soon fading from sight,

No one can stop it, try hard as they might.

It finds a way through and keeps pressing on,

Twisting and turning whilst singing its song.

My friend you have traveled long and far,

Not always knowing where exactly you are.

The road you now travel is yours alone,

Others will cross it, but never for long .

From back whence you came, you clearly can see,

Everything you have done, each a warm memory

The very beginning is now rather misty,

But see it you can though the path is quite twisty.

Some memories are bright, just as if they were new,

While others have faded, though hopefully few.

As you travel the world, and make memories new,

The old ones will fade, as they tend to do.

So every so often, even if it's in pain,

Remember me from your own memory lane.

Quotes

There are worse crimes than burning books.

One of them is not reading them.

~Ray Bradbury~

Hey everyone, 

I know I haven't done anything for a long time, and I really don't have an excuse so yeah. My new thing is quotes so here is the first of many good ones. It is by the author of Fahrenheit 451, and it is oddly satisfying.  

My People

I’m standing here outside my door,

Looking at the distant shore.

The great waves that come crashing down,

Melt slowly back without a sound.

Glancing back, I see my village,

Which other tribes may pick and pillage.

With tall trees shading most the ground,

No one is just standing ‘round

Turning again, there's something new,

A small black speck engulfed in blue.

Slowly, steadily, closer it gets,

Now I see, that it’s a ship.

A pang of fear grips me fast,

As I gaze up at the mast.

The shining cannon at the stern,

Is enough to make me churn.

And the men who man the sail,

With hair and faces fair and pale.

They came and ran us off our land,

Just as if we’re made of sand.

What I thought would last forever,

Ended up smashed and scattered.

The hope and pride we called our own,

Is now a strange new peoples home.

My people then were poor and weak,

And most the world, would turn their cheek.

And now as time goes passing by,

My people slowly start to rise.

Amidst the ever changing tides,

We've conformed to newer times.

And so the point of this you see,

We never know what is to be.

And the things we think will last,

End up forgotten in the past.

~Rebekah Plummer~

I wrote this when I was at a writing camp, and we were told to write a poem about something we are passionate about. I love learning about native Americans, and I think what European Americans did to them was awful, but that isn't really the point of the poem.

I wrote it from a native's perspective, of what I think they would have felt, and thought; and at the end its just talking about that you never know if what you think is always going to be there, that it could be gone the next day, and you never expect it.

I hope you enjoy this!

Till next time!

At The Beginning

We were strangers, starting out on a journey

Never dreaming, what we’d have to go through

Now here we are, I’m suddenly standing

At the beginning with you

No one told me, I was going to find you

Unexpected, what you did to my heart

When I lost hope, you were there to remind me

This is the start

And life is a road that I wanna keep going

Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing

Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey

I’ll be there when the world stops turning

I’ll be there when the storm is through

In the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning with you

we were strangers, on a crazy adventure

Never dreaming, how our dreams would come true

Now here we stand, unafraid of the future

At the beginning with you

And life is a road that I wanna keep going

Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing

Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey

I’ll be there when the world stops turning

I’ll be there when the storm is through

In the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning with you

Knew there was somebody, somewhere

A new love in the dark

Now I know my dream will live on

I’ve been waiting so long

Nothing’s gonna tear us apart

And life is a road that I wanna keep going

Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing

Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey

I’ll be there when the world stops turning

I’ll be there when the storm is through

In the end I wanna be standing

At the beginning with you

This is the song that plays during the credits of Anastasia, which is a very sweet movie in my opinion. It pretty much speaks for itself, although if you can t read between the lines, its talking about Anastasia and Dmitri.....I don't really know what else to say other than the last verse doesn't make a whole lot of sense. 

Please, please, please let me know if you have any suggestions for books I should read.

Till next time!!

America, the beautiful

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America! God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,

Whose stern impassioned stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness!

America! America! God mend thine every flaw,

Confirm thy soul in self-control,

Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,

Who more than self their country loved,

And mercy more than life!

America! America! May God thy gold refine

Till all success be nobleness,

And every gain divine!

O Beautiful for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam,

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America! God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

~Kathrine Lee Bates~

     This Is one of my favorite songs, it can pretty much bring me to tears. I know your probably thinking, "This isn't poetry," but let me tell you; Music is the most power, and beautiful form of poetry ever, it might not always seem like it, but it follows a rhythm, just like normal poetry, and I would go so far as to say Its better. I have great respect for anyone who can write a poem, and music, and then put them together. I will probably be putting more music out along with the other things.

A Book

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of toll;

How frugal is the chariot

That bears a human soul 

~Emily Dickinson~



This poem is rather cool, I don't really get the last two lines, but I like the rest of it a lot.