How much of what we say is going to happen is ironic
some go about predicting the future
and then looking back what was said would happen
has happened before they said it would
so how much is yet to be and has already happened
so predicting may be accurate or premature
history is in the making
whether it has already been made in prediction
or has been planned to make it come true
or just let it happen
or is there another point of view
it has happened before
do you remember this to be true
Some little known or maybe, by now, greatly known facts about Paul Revere might just surprise you. And who wrote the famous poem about Paul Revere? Henry Wadsworth Longfellow If you go to that link you can read his poem about Paul Revere.
For today’s prompt let’s try a history poem. It could be about an important to you time in history, it could be about what we would say about these current days if these days were history, it could even be fake history such as creating your own version of history. It can be anything you wish it to be. I have ideas and just not sure which will land on these pages today.
Belinda looked out the window, her red strands stringing her eyes, still crusted with sandman’s presents; This was her routine each and every day, gazing to the lands and wishing for her dreams to come true; Closing her eyes, stating her wishes into prayers, she then bounced up onto her feet and bounced into the nursery, letting her little brother know her presence.
Smiling, squirming, hiccupping from his milk filled belly, Cleveland wiggled his chubby legs in delight from seeing his sister, clearly loving the routine of being greeted by her cheerfulness; Grasping him carefully, Belinda pulled him up and into her arms, hugging him while singing to him her favorite made up song, written especially for him.
“Baby Cleveland, cheery boy, you are my most favorite joy, how I wish to help you grow, always and ever more to know; How I love you, yes I do, and I always will, it’s true; One day when you are grown up, you’ll still be my buttercup, never will you leave my heart, you have been there from the start.”
Giggling and pulling her long tresses, Cleveland clearly adored his big sister, enchanted by her blue-green eyes, he poked at them with his chubby fingers, before reaching for his own as if comparing them with his own rich blue orbs; Carrot tops matching, these two were like two peas in a pod, so to speak, but there was one thing for sure, they were also very different; This was one thing that Belinda would be sure about: personalities.
Just down the road, a few houses down, Barton was also up for the day, doing his routine of chores before going to school, knowing his homework was likely suffering, he had routine responsibilities which took him away from book learning; Sure to make up for his father’s own duties, Barton needed to see to it that his mother did not suffer any more than she already seemed to, as her sighs of sadness prevailed; Taking a moment to take his mother some fresh tea, Barton took her hands in his, gazed into her brown eyes, moist from longing, and told her how beautiful she was and how it was going to be another good day, all before Barton gathered up his books and lunch, putting soles to the dirt road, hoping to catch Belinda on the way to school.
Waving goodbye to her mother, Belinda bounced out the door, books and lunch in hand and looking about, hoping to see Barton as he always made her smile; Sure as the sun shone, there he was picking up his step when he eyed her, almost running to her side; “Good morning Belinda,” Barton breathlessly greeted her, “I hope you don’t mind if I carry your books,” And with this, Belinda smiled at Barton, handed him her books and smiled, nudging along with their hands waiting to be held.
This is my Six Sentence Story for this week in response to Denise’s prompt word: Routine
Perhaps you would like to publish a story to this prompt. You can go to Girlie on the Edge and check out the rules of the blog hop. It’s a lot of fun!
Barton claimed Belinda in his heart the first time he set eyes on her at elementary school, when she came to class, all of nine years old, the new girl in the camp, just a few doors down from his home.
While some boys teased her just for being new, Barton just watched her move, ever so gracefully, as she sat at her desk, ready to pay attention to the teacher.
Studious, she was, and Barton was hoping he would get a chance to talk to her without sounding as behind as he was with his studies.
He had reasons, and she would figure that out eventually, but he didn’t care so much about that as he did about getting a chance to impress this beautiful red-haired girl with braids and freckles bouncing off her cheeks when she smiled.
Noticing that reading made Belinda smile, he opened his reader and with one eye on her he attempted to learn the words.
Sensing the feeling of heat on the back of her neck, Belinda looked around and spotted Barton looking at her, smiling; She nodded, and he nodded back, red faced but ever so pleased that she did not grimace.
There you go! This is my Six Sentence Story for this week. To join in go to this LINK
Blog Hop Rules:
Write 6 sentences. No more. No less.
Use this week’s prompt word: CLAIM
Read everyone’s story, comment, share and have fun!
Delilah viewed the carefully placed bricks on the pavement, walked on for many decades at the palace grounds, the history being that these bricks were installed by labor much like those of slaves, although it was not clear if these were actual bricks placed by slaves.
Edward pondered the history, about how this beautiful arrangement came about and set out to research the facts, delving into the stories from several sources, still uncertain which of these stories were true or where the gray area was; It became a mash up of many words, none certain to be true.
Solving the question about the origin of the bricklayers was a dilemma both Delilah and Edward faced and both agreed on one thing: regardless of the history, the crafting of these bricks was beautiful and skillfully accomplished and both appreciated the fine quality.
Intricacy being what it is, it’s probably safe to say that slavery was involved in creating the many pathways, looking at the dates of installation and the known history of those times it’s probable that there were slaves used in the making of these walkways; Interesting, is that there were free people of African American ancestry who lived and worked in the region, while slavery was still occurring.
Great stories come from the history, even if muddied, of the time these bricks were placed and ever since; Tourists come from all over to learn of the history and pay their respects to the area, complicated by the varied versions of the same story, each pointing a different direction, but all the same, stories of the past.
Needless to say, but saying just the same, it’s important to research stories and keep an open mind to the possibilities that historical research will always have gray areas, no matter how much a scholar claims to know the facts; Such is the case, even today, as when you inquire about current events and hear several versions of the same event, much based on one person’s point of view versus another’s; So it is important to understand the need to document that which is factual and, goodness knows, the facts are often based on empirical research versus theory so it’s hard to gain any true designs of what is real and what is not, meaning there is no black or white, only more shades of gray; Going back to the design of the bricks, the answer is: Who Knows? And the question becomes: Does the beauty of the brickwork change with the history of the laying of the bricks?; And that, my friend, raises more questions.
So, there you have it! This is my Six Sentence Story
This is based on the prompt “Design” provided by Denise every Sunday.
Click on this LINK and join!!