Winter Night

 Written By: Kalen Lewis

The winter's silent cold hold's still,

The secrets whispered through the snow.

The moons shining sliver high,

The foggy breath a gentle flow.

~

I looked up to the sky to find the snow quietly falling, sticking to my eyelashes. There was a beautiful silence that seemed to ring through the night. I felt as though the winter was sharing a deep secret with me, whispering in my ear. My breath was visible, mingling with the sliver of the moon.

~

So I wanted to share my inspiration for this short poem and story. When I was twelve years old, I visited relatives in Idaho for Christmas. The morning before we left for home in Texas, we had breakfast in a well known diner called Bucky's in a little town called Cambridge. We got a booth seat at a window. Across the street there were small trees with light colored leaves in front of an old brick museum. As I was eating my pancakes, I looked out that window, it was dim outside and little snowflakes were falling! Snow is so rare in Texas, that it just made my day. Even to this day I still think of that little moment of excitement every winter and every time I visit Idaho, and it still excites and inspires me.
About five months ago, my cousin bought and remodeled Bucky's, it unfortunately wasn't finished last time I was there but I'm excited to see the results of her hard work next summer when I visit again.

The Facile Poet

facile 
[fas-il or, esp. British, -ahyl]

adjective

1. moving, acting, working, proceeding, etc., with ease, sometimes with superficiality:

"facile fingers; a facile mind."

2. easily done, performed, used, etc.:

"a facile victory; a facile method."

3. easy or unconstrained, as manners or persons.

4. affable, agreeable, or complaisant; easily influenced:

"a facile temperament; facile people."

  

poet

[poh-it]

noun

1. a person who composes poetry

2. a person who has the gift of poetic thought, imagination, and creation, together with eloquence of expression. 




http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/facile
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/poet?s=t 

The Charge of the Light Brigade

By: Alfred, Lord Tennyson

1

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

   Rode the six hundred.

“Forward the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!” he said.

Into the valley of Death

    Rode the six hundred.

2

“Forward, the Light Brigade!”

Was there a man dismayed?

Not though the soldier knew

    Someone had blundered.

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of Death

    Rode the six hundred.

3

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon in front of them

    Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of hell

    Rode the six hundred.

4

Flashed all their sabers bare,

Flashed as they turned in air

Sab’ring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

    All the world wondered,

Plunged in the battery smoke

Right through the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the saber stroke

    Shattered and sundered.

Then they rode back, but not,

    Not the six hundred.

5

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon behind them

    Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came through the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of hell,

All that was left of them,

    Left of six hundred.

6

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

    All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made!

Honor the Light Brigade,

    Noble six hundred!

~

In honor of Veteran's day. So thankful for the lives that were sacrificed for our Freedom, but even more thankful for Jesus and his sacrifice on the cross for our ultimate and eternal freedom.