Remember November

Remember November, Child
©Ruth Cox

November
Orphans of war,
Veterans who knew the score;
Evolutive remnants of humankind,
Maligned;
Begat of canon-like song.
Earthborn: right the wrong!
Remember

Memories being what they may: from the Meuse-Argonne forest to the cemetary; from the fallen leaves of the earth to the cease-fire of a world war's girth; and, from the remains left of the wild, onward to the right of the child. The month of November is a time to remember. Children born and bred of war with needs ignored would give rise to fighting for a new cause: children's rights.

I will not for repetition's sake share words of war; instead, I shall share with you two days, two names, and the pleas they implore: Armistice Day and Universal Children's Day; and the names, Lady Blomfield and Eglantyne Jebb.

It matters not that some celebrate on a different day, even a different month. And it matters not that some acknowledge one or the other. What matters is we remember that war steals one thing from all the children of the earth: Peace!

In my wanderings as I surfed the net today, I ran across five stipulations of the original Declaration of the Rights of the Child. In reading them I couldn't help but think that if we each put these into practice as the rights of all the children of the earth, then we might truly know perfect peace.

Be they as they may ... Lest we forget.

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Source(s):
http://www.firstworldwar.com/features/armistice.htm
http://www.un.org/depts/dhl/children_day/
http://www.btinternet.com/~iain.s.palin/heritage/blmem.htm
http://www.leader-values.com/Content/detail.asp?ContentDetailID=794
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Declaration_of_the_Rights_of_the_Child

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Len's Saturday Writing Essential Challenge: Write something (prose or poetry; fiction, essay, or nonfiction) about the month of November. Do not write about Thanksgiving -- I’m reserving that for a challenge later in the month.

Halloween Magic

I so enJOY the autumn harvest and Halloween. I couldn't resist a poetic creation for the season. This poem is a Nonet as well as being an Acrostic.





Using Senses in Poetry

Great poetry utilizes the five (and the sixth) senses to facilitate the reader's comprehension of the poem through sight, scent, touch, taste, and hearing.

This poetic creation uses the sense of scent...

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iWrite-iBlog-iWin entry 10/03/2010

Autumn Reflection

As summer nears its end and fall of the leaves begins, I find myself in a reflective mood once again. Seasons change, as do you and I. Let us hope that we do so with the same golden glory of Mother Nature...

Trickery of Time

Sometimes I feel as though I've been jugglin' time for a lifetime, how about you? I've learned a thing or two along the way, though; as I juggle mid work and play I must remember that I must do what I say -- just do it! All it takes is time ...

Fiddlestick Folk

Fiddlestick Folk
©Ruth Cox


Here's how we twiddle
The time of our life:
You stroke the fiddle,
I'll finger the fife.

Wee sister wiggles
While Ma sings desire;
Li'l brother giggles,
And Pa tends the fire.

As each of us stirs
Magic of our own;
Reality blurs,
And dreams become known.

You're fishin' upstream,
Jump a riverboat;
Like freshwater bream,
Aimlessly afloat.

I'm berry pickin',
Juice quenches my thirst;
The baby's kickin',
I'm about to burst.

Pa grabs his shotgun,
Saddles up his horse;
He'll find my loved one,
Bring him back, of course.

Ma's got a weddin'
She's readyin' for;
Tears she's a sheddin'
While pacin' the floor.

Brother and sister,
They've nary a clue;
They play tongue twister,
A game tried and true.

Petticoats I don,
'Neath an off-white dress.
The door is knocked on,
Preacher's here I guess.

Once we let him in,
Totin' board of slate,
He writes with chagrin,
"How long must we wait?"

We hear horse whinny
And sound of whip crack;
Cringe for the ninny,
Pa cut him no slack.

Wood door opens wide
And you say with glee:
"All jokin' aside,
Will you marry me?"

We both say "I do."
And the preacher nods.
Ma serves up the stew
While the fire Pa prods.

You stroke the fiddle,
I'll finger the fife:
Time we now twiddle
As husband and wife.



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Written in response to Len's Prompt for Saturday Writing Essential of Gather Writing Essential:

*Write a historical fiction story (prose or poetry).

Mount Pleasant Path

Mount Pleasant Path
Me and My Girl
©Ruth Cox

I hike the high hills,
dark caverns, too,
step over fallen rock,
dodge and deal
with mishaps
strewn along the path.
Dog barks up ahead.
Yes, I brought my friend.
For without her...
Harm
may come once again.

She laps of -
I jump into -
the cooling water.
She trots alongside,
never leaving path.
She has known the chill
of my loneliness...
I am grateful for this fact.

Back on the bank,
the crooked creek's edge,
I sit,
I rest,
thoughts dance among the dead.
A lick upon my face says,
All is not lost;
Never alone;
Friend guards your back.

We climb the mount, slowly
reaching for the top.
The sun guides our footprints
upon the path we walk.
Strongest of the rays
points the way -
Go around.
Go through.
Life awaits you two.

The top draws near,
we rest once more,
listen to the waterfall
flowing in the distance.
Sound travels,
an arrow,
aimed for the heart.
I think...
This must be
where love got its start.

My gal disappears,
seemingly runs astray;
I hear yelps of glee,
leading me unto the light;
brighter as I go.
This must be the pathway
of the things I should know.

I feel the need
to rest a moment more,
settle myself
on the dirt of the floor.
I feel the warmth
as I hold
the ground in my hand.
But time is ticking,
I tell myself,
Rise.

Dog appears
in the clearing ahead,
waits for me to catch her,
then...
stands her ground.
Her tail another voice,
it wags, Delighted!
Then it halts, Who goes there?
And it curls, Friend, not foe.

Together, we
stand
at the peak;
our world at our feet.
Just me and my girl.

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Today I wanted to take my Tidbit for a walk at Mount Pleasant, but, I didn't. I wanted to then write a gratitude/current for Shedding Light, but since I didn't go for the walk, I couldn't. Late tonight I saw an email from Kimberly Blackadar's Blog regarding today's Poetry Workshop. It seemed to fit perfectly with what I wanted to do.

The poem above is the result of her blog workshop. It began with a closed-eyes, fingers on the keyboard, mind walking with visuals, freewrite, which I share below...


I walk the hills
the caverns too
step over the rocks
avoid the mishaps
found along the path

a dog barks ahead
yws, i brought my friend
for without her harm
may come again

I jump right into
the cool of the waters
she jogs alongside, ne'er leavin' the path
for she has known
the chill of my loneliness
and i am grateful for this fact

back on the bank
of the crooked creek's edge
I sit, I rest, thoughts
dance among the dead
A lick upon my face
says all is not lost
never alone when a friend
guards your back

slowly we climb the mountain
reaching for the top
the sun guides each
footprint upon the path we walk
the strongest ray points the way
go around, go through
life awaits you too

the top seems nearer now
we rest once more
listen to the waterfall dropping in the distance
the sound travels
ike an arrow
straight to the heart
 think this must be
where love got its start

my gal disappears
seemingly runs away
but i hear yelps of glee
she's leading the way
I follow the light
getting brighter as i go
this must be the way
of the things i should know

I feel the need to rest once more
settle myself on the the dirt of the floor
I feel the warmth when I hold
the ground in my hand
but time is tickin
so again i stand
my friend appears in the clearing ahead
waits til I catch her
then she runs on ahead
the tail it wags
then it halts and it curls
we stand at the peak
just me and my girl

Lententide Love -- Good Friday

My offering today pays tribute to Good Friday and what the day means to me at this moment in time.

If you celebrate the holiday -- Happy Easter!

If you do not celebrate the holiday -- Happy Friday!