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!

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.

Wishing

Here is another one of my poems, I hope you like it. I wrote it after walking on the Konza Prairie close to Manhattan, Kansas so if you are ever in that area I suggest going, because It's beautiful. Also I think everyone should see what the prairie looks like just because its so cool.
                     
                         

                                                   There's something about the wide open prairie, 

That makes me wish, I was a small fairy.  

Who could fly far away, way back in time,

All the way back, to my land in its prime.

Land filled with bison, bald eagles, and foxes,

Jack rabbits, chipmunks, and killer hawkses.

Wolves would cry out, to the full moon,

Knowing the night, would be over soon.

Planes stretching out, far as one could see,

Now dotted with houses, from shining sea to sea.

Many were there, who called it their home,

That wonderful place, where buffalo roam.

Men out in the field, working hard all the day,

With the deer and the antelope, who love to play.

Now into the houses, where women and girls,

Scrub everything hard, till they’re shining like pearls.

And back to the future, to see what it holds,

A whole lot of people, the young and the old.

I go on with my life, with its silly inventions,

Wishing way back, to a warm log house kitchen.

~Rebekah Plummer~

An Empty Page

An empty page lies before me,
Waiting, waiting to be told,
Words worth more than silver or gold

An empty page lies before me,
A fountain pen is in my hand,
A jar of ink is on its stand.

An empty page lies before me,
I'm sitting in a straight backed chair,
Trying hard not to mess with my hair.

An empty page lies before me,
The kettle on the stove is singing,
And cold air on my nose is stinging.

An empty page lies before me,
Only when embers begin to glow,
Will words from my pen begin to flow.


~Rebekah Plummer~