Just A Promise

“Remember.”
Just a word.
Just a promise.
“Worry.”
Just a word.
Just a dread.
“Forever.”
Just a word.
Just a pledge.
“Love.”
Just a word.
Just a wish.

Momma’s gone now,
where’d she go?
She was a star hung
far too loosely in the sky.
Momma promised
that she’d know
all that happened,
along with why.
Momma told me
not to worry.
That she’d see me again
someday.
But now I know,
my hopes I bury.
She’s gone
far away.

Too far for me to reach
with arms so weary.
Too far for me to see
with sight now bleary.
Those promises broken,
I won’t allow.
I’ll make that ‘someday’
now.

Groggy child,
go to sleep.
Hurry now,
your dreams, keep.
Groggy child,
sleep until the next day.
Don’t worry, dear.
I’m just going away,
But I promise:

“Remember.”
Just a word.
Just a promise.
“Worry.”
Just a word.
Just a dread.
“Forever.”
Just a word.
Just a pledge.
“Love.”
Just a word.
Just a wish.

I’m going to join Momma now,
she must be quite lonely.
I’ll always remember,
don’t you worry.
I’ll be with you forever,

I love you.


~A poem by Diya, for contest: Time is Running Out~

Essie Mae

a play by Laikapearl


We had this assignment in Drama to write a 10-minute play. I chose to write mine based on a family story. About Essie Mae Briggs. She died of Scarlet Fever in 1892 and hand carved on her headstone was the poem that I included in the play! Those are really the only facts that I included in the script. Except for the names. All the boys' names are my great-great-grandmother's siblings' names. I think that's all the back story you need... :)





Essie Mae

1892- CORRY, PENNSYLVANIA

SCENE 1: THE BRIGGS’ KITCHEN

[THE BRIGGS family sits at a table, about to eat breakfast]

MR BRIGGS: Thank you, Lord, for the meal we are about to receive. Amen.

MRS. BRIGGS AND THE BOYS: Amen.

[They silently begin to eat]

MRS. BRIGGS: [tentatively] The fields? Are they-

MR. BRIGGS: [rather roughly] Ready to harvest. I’ll talk to the Simmons’ boys after church on Sunday. I could use the help.

ARLAND: I’d like to help father.

MERTIN: Me too! Ask me as well, Father!

EDWIN: And me!

RUSSELL: I’ll help as well.

ARCHIE: And if you need me, I’m still here.

MRS. BRIGGS: Quiet, boys. Eat your breakfast.

EDWIN: Father? I’ll be fourteen in three weeks. That’s not too young to help in the fields is it?

ARLAND: It’s old enough to be in the kitchens. You and mother will can the fruits.

[Talking starts to overlap one another. Creating a buildup]

MRS. BRIGGS: That’s quite enough. Now-

EDWIN: It is not! Father! Tell him-

ARLAND: You’re too young to-

EDWIN: Father!

ARLAND: It’s true.

MRS. BRIGGS: Now really-

MR. BRIGGS: Boys. I’ll have you all in the kitchen if you don’t bite your tongues.

EDWIN: He started-

ARLAND: I did not!

MR. BRIGGS: [slams his fist down] If I meant to have a loud and unruly family, I would have raised animals. I chose to have boys and crops instead. Do not make me regret that choice! [Wrenches coat off hook and storms off stage]

[Lights fade out]

SCENE 2: THE BRIGGS’ BARN

[Later that day: MR. BRIGGS can be seen in a doorway, hunched over something. ARLAND, EDWIN, ARCHIE, and MERTIN are doing their chores in the barnyard]

MERTIN: Arland? Why doesn’t Father help us with our chores anymore?

ARLAND: He’s doing other things.

ARCHIE: Like what?

ARLAND: I… I don’t know.

MERTIN: Then who’s doing his chores?

ARLAND: I am.

MERTIN: How come you get to? Why can’t I?

ARLAND: Because. Father’s chores are meant for fully-grown men. You are not fully-grown.

MERTIN: But I can help!

ARLAND: No, Mertin. Go feed the horses now. You too, Archie.

ARCHIE: Since when do you get to boss us around?!

ARLAND: Don’t talk back! Go! Now!

ARCHIE: I don’t have to listen to you!

ARLAND: Yes! Yes, you do!

MERTIN: Why? Since when?

ARLAND: Since Father decided to ignore what he should be doing and spend all his time in his shop.

ARCHIE: That’s not true! Father’s taken good care of us!

ARLAND: If you don’t like the way things are, go tell Father!

ARCHIE: [horrified] Tell Father? He’d whip me! He’s not… He’s acting funny! I’d get yelled at!

ARLAND: You see?

MERTIN: How come? Arland, why is Father being different?

ARLAND: I don’t-

EDWIN: He hasn’t gotten over her.

MERTIN: Her? Who’s her?

EDWIN: Essie Mae.

ARCHIE: What’s she got to do with this?

ARLAND: Nothing. Go feed the horses.

MERTIN: What’s Essie Mae-?

ARLAND: Nothing!

EDWIN: He hasn’t been the same since-

ARCHIE: Since what, Edwin? Tell me!

ARLAND: Stop gossiping like old ladies and get your chores done!

ARCHIE: Fine.

[MERTIN & ARCHIE exit]

[ARLAND & EDWIN resume their chores, ignoring the other]

[MR. BRIGGS walks over]

MR. BRIGGS: What’s the time?

EDWIN: Close to noon, I s’pect.

ARLAND: I’ll go check.

[ARLAND exits]

MR. BRIGGS: Good kid, Arland.

EDWIN: He’s alright.

MR. BRIGGS: Alright? What’s so “alright” about him?

EDWIN: Well… I guess… He’s…

MR. BRIGGS: Yes?

EDWIN: He thinks he’s you. I don’t like that.

MR. BRIGGS: Oh? Well… I always knew he was a leader.

EDWIN: He’s not! He’s only-

[ARLAND enters]

ARLAND: It’s a quarter after eleven.

MR. BRIGGS: Right. Well, I’ve still got some time. I’ll be in the shop. [to EDWIN] I think… Maybe you don’t like being bossed?

EDWIN: No, sir.

MR. BRIGGS: [laughing] I guess you got that from me.

[MR. BRIGGS goes back to shop]

ARLAND: Why’s he laughing?

EDWIN: Guess I’m funny.

ARLAND: You? Haha.

EDWIN: There! See, you laughed. Guess I am.

ARLAND: I don’t think he was laughing cause you’re funny.

EDWIN: Then why?

ARLAND: I think… Maybe he’s finally let her go.

EDWIN: Who?

ARLAND: Like you said before, Essie Mae.

EDWIN: Well, then I’m funny and right. That’s a bonus.

[Lights fade out on ARLAND & EDWIN laughing]

SCENE 3: THE BRIGG’S KITCHEN

[Later that day: MR. & MRS. BRIGGS stand in the kitchen, arguing.]

MRS. BRIGGS: I won’t allow it!

MR. BRIGGS: You’re being unreasonable. If you just look at-

MRS. BRIGGS: Me? Unreasonable?! You’ve hardly socialized with any of us since-

MR. BRIGGS: But this will fix that!

MRS. BRIGGS: I won’t let you.

MR. BRIGGS: But it’s already done. I’ve carved it and everything.

MRS. BRIGGS: You… You have?

MR. BRIGGS: Yes. We’ll go there tonight, after supper. And the boys will come too.

MRS. BRIGGS: Fine. [storms out]

[Lights fade]

SCENE 4: CORRY CEMETERY

[The BRIGGS’ family stands around a tombstone. MR. BRIGGS holds a bouquet of flowers.]

ARLAND: I used to bike here… When I was younger.

EDWIN: You did?

ARLAND: It was… a place without too much meaning to me. Pretty and quiet.

EDWIN: Not any more, though.

MRS. BRIGGS: It’s even more beautiful, now that Essie Mae has come.

ARCHIE: Why did she have to die?

MRS. BRIGGS: She was sick. And God needed her…

MERTIN: I’m going to miss her.

MR. BRIGGS: We all will. But, she’ll always be here if we need her.

RUSSELL: She’ll always be here?

MR. BRIGGS: [crouching down to RUSSELL’s height] Always.

EDWIN: Father? Essie Mae… was your favorite, wasn’t she?

MR. BRIGGS: I love you all too much it’d be impossible to measure.

ARLAND: We were worried… that you didn’t care about the rest of us anymore.

MR. BRIGGS: No. I just needed to find the right way to say goodbye to her.

MERTIN: How did you make her headstone?

MR. BRIGGS: Well… It had to be perfect- that’s why it took me so long. I’m not a writer. I didn’t know
how to put such a beautiful person in words, that part took me weeks. And then I needed a stone, which took some time. But, I found it. And for the past three days I carved into it- with my pocketknife.

MRS. BRIGGS: I’m so proud of you.

MR. BRIGGS: [to RUSSELL] Will you read it?

RUSSELL: Me?

Essie Mae Briggs
1890 to 1892
She was the sunshine of our hearts
An angel to us given
And when we learned to love her most
God called her back to heaven


MR. BRIGGS: Good.

RUSSELL: She was only… two years old!

MERTIN: And the prettiest thing you ever saw.

ARCHIE: And she was so smart! She could say my name.

EDWIN: I think she loved us, too.

ARLAND: Of course she did! She was the kindest, most loving person ever.

MRS. BRIGGS: But God knew she was suffering. The fever was too high.

RUSSELL: So he killed her?

MRS. BRIGGS: He did the kindest thing he could. He ended the pain for her.

MERTIN: I think he saw how happy we were with her.

ARLAND: He needed some light in heaven.

MR. BRIGGS: We love you. May God treat you well. [sets down flowers] Goodbye, Essie Mae.

[Blackout]

THE END

Till Death Do Us Part

by Lexie

(For THIS poetry contest)

The sweet summer air like honey on our tongues,
As we lay on our backs and breathe it into our lungs
The grass shivers gently in the warm breeze
And noises come from the forest, animals and shaking leaves
The warmth of your body lying next to mine
As I wonder how I had found someone so truly divine
I watch as your blue eyes study the beautiful scene
And in that simple moment, my life felt so complete
The sun was just setting as ghostly shadows dance
Our eyes watched the perfect view and we froze, in a trance
Although I can’t put words to the emotions I feel
I lean close and whisper “I’ve fallen in love, head over heels.”
You smile that lovable, gorgeous, wide grin
Then you wrap your arms around me and pull me in
I lay my head on your chest and listen to your heart beat
And again, all I can say is that I felt perfectly complete
Your breath then mine, it was as if we were one
As we watch the colors in the sky casted by the sun
You held onto my hand and I held onto to yours
And together, we glanced into the future, all the open doors
The memory of that sunset; purple, orange, and red
I will forever keep locked inside of my head
Just one more to add to the collection of days I spent with you
Just one more reason I knew our love was really, fully true
On that day, that dreadful day, that you were stolen away from me
I was left alone with no one to hear my pleas.
When you had gone, a large piece of me died
Leaving a searing whole that is now aching inside
You occupied my other half I found,
And then it was again taken from me as they lowered you into the ground
No amount of tears could ever add up to
The pain it causes to live without you
You were my life, my love, my happiness, my friend,
How silly of me to think that we would last until the end
Now, I am remembering what we had said right at the start.
When we held hands and whispered “Until death do us part”

(Note:
this poem reminded the webmaster a lot of a poem by Lynne Alvarez:

She loved him all her life
And when she thought he might die,
She tied her wrist to his at night so that
his pulse would not flutter away from
her suddenly and leave her stranded)

Momma, when'd the road grow?

by ErinElainne

Type of Poem: Free Verse!
Prompt: Time's running out

Momma, when'd the road grow?
Baby, try to use your words.
...Talk the truth, see no lies.
Let the sun shine.

Momma, when'd the sky shrink low?
Love, i'm sure i just don't know.
...We've lost alot, these weeks soon pass,
I'll try to get it back.

Momma, when the grass gets cold,
...Will the stars forget to glow?
Forget to glow, forget to grow, forget about
everything
we
thought
we'd
know.

hangin' on by ropes, my child

sweet dreams, to all below.

momma's gone where tears don't fall,

where God makes all moons glow.

sing a song, a lullaby,
wipe sorrow from
the lost babe's eyes,
and don't let go

and don't look down

the sky is shrinking...

"momma, how fast will it go?

how far until i land?"

Momma, when'd the road grow?
Baby, try to use your words...

Love, i lied, the sun won't shine,
these paths, they're getting shorter.

the path to you,
the road to me,
afriad, they intersect.

they never swing.

they never sing.

they never bring

two
hearts
to
one.

Momma, when'd the sky shrink low?
Love, i'm sure i just don't know.

so, tell me, momma.
can you touch the moon?
if you climbe, so high, so high...

momma's reached that limit, child.
she's grasped the highest branch...
and she's so
afraid, afraid to fall...
momma's so afraid to fall.

Momma, when the grass gets cold,
...Will the stars forget to glow?

well, baby, seems i've told a myth
a game, perhaps, a folly.

for momma was a star, they say
who forgot, by chance, to glow.
no more brightness left to show.
nowhere safe now left to go.
just a song, that now one knows.

momma, i still love you,
wherever you may be.
when youth rode on behind us,
you told your tale to me.
you said the stars, they'd always sing
the sky would always stretch.
you said the ice would always melt,
a new chance now to catch.
grab on, momma, we're swingin' low
and i don't want you to fall.
for when i was small, you held me close
and it was the best of feelings.
and when the light squeezed,
out of you,
i felt so, free, so, lost.
a falling star,
put it in my pocket,
i'll send it on back home.
another holy land we roam.
your arms, the safest dome.

now, momma, where'd the time go?
Baby girl, its thrown away.
....we've lost alot.
these years soon pass,
another catch to throw...
to throw,
a star,
to glow.
fallen down,
no place
to go,
jsut a song.

that no one knows.

Congrats to all NaNoWriMo Winners!

To the winners of NaNoWriMo: Congratulations. I mean it. You guys all set the bar for writing quickly. Sure, it might all be horrible, but you did it. Your ideas are out there, and, knowing you, they're ingenious. You all defied the limits. You've just devoted 30 days of your life to pure writing, and more if you've done it before. Given, you'll most likely live about 30000 other days (give or take) in all of your life, and that's only 1/1000 of your life, but let's put it under a different light.
Writing could be seen as simply putting a pen to paper or typing a language onto a screen.
But it's so much more than that. It's a form of art, it's a way to express your opinions, your dreams, your thoughts, your WORLDS that you have created.
NaNo could be seen the same way. 1/1000th of your life, or a novel. You could change the world with that novel. You could be the next JK Rowling, who gets children to read all over the world.
Because of YOUR book.
Or, if your book is more of a thriller, mystery novel, or a suspenseful drama that is meant to scare more than make people happy, you could keep readers up at night, reading into the wee hours of the morning, just to read your awesome masterpiece.
Doesn't that inspire you?
Now it suddenly looks like a whole lot more than just something you wrote in a month. It's a draft, yes, but it's a draft that could turn into something extremely magnificent.

And you have the power to do that.
So go write. Continue to write. Don't procrastinate. Write, revise, and finish. And bask in the glory of your awesome-ness.

And if you didn't finish, who cares? Next year, it'll be yours. The prizing grandeur of the title, "Novelist."
That'll be you.

And if you won, that's you, write (haha) now. Congratulations, writers.



(By Cora, thanks!)




Links to Our Members' NaNo's:

Listen to the Words by Diya
Gone by SamAntha

(If I've missed any, please note me! :D)

All we are...

*A moment of silence*

This community of young writers has grown strong over the past year.
This community has become one.
We write together, we spend hours of our free-time together, we chat together, and we form bonds together.
A year ago from yesterday, I joined this group. It was a small, 2 to 3 page group, with very few members and a few posts a day.
I had no idea what this would become.
I had no idea how large this would end up being.
I had no idea. None of us did.
We had time to read everyone's discussions, everyone's stories.
It has become so large that there is no way that everything can be read, analyzed, and critiqued.
But that's the beauty of this community.
We have thrived as a community. We have prospered at our goals. We have supported each other through hard times.
And the glory of it all is:
We're still growing.
We're still expanding.
Therefore, I have hope that this community will continue to excel. We will continue to become better writers.

I'd like to thank you- you personally, whoever you may be- on behalf of the Young Writer's Group. You have inspired me to do great, wonderful things. You have helped make us our generation's authors. You have made us all the people who we are. We have a power unknown to most people in the world. We have a power to voice our opinions. We have a power to pursue anything. We have a power- the power- to make this world and ourselves a better place.
We have made a difference in empowering everyone here with the resources, the knowledge, and the strength to become amazing people.
We have made a difference, and we will continue to make a difference as long as we continue to practice what we bonded together for in the first place- the magnificent art of writing.

Look at how we began.
We started with two best friends from school.
These, mind you, were young. Not adults wanting to converse about their obsession of writing.
Though I can see us becoming that when we have grown.
They might have to come up with OWD, Obsessive Writing Disorder.
People so connected to the world of words that there will be no way out.
But no matter, that is the future.
Look at how far we've come.
This has become a central community to read writing, and take a glance at other's styles and see if we can add on to our own.
This has become a central community to share writing, and show others our skills and lets us improve.
This has become a central community, and that's who we are.
We stick together,
We defy limits,
and we show the world what we're made of.
We are not a band of adult authors.
We are, for the most part, not a group of people with manuscripts ready to be published.
Yet we thrive to be.
And we will be.
For we are the Young Writers of the 21st century.
We have showed immense dedication to what we know and love.
We are young writers, and that's what we do.
We are the Young Writers Group.


~This was written by Cora, to paint a picture of everything that our little world is, and will become. Thank you, Cora. ~






(Post by Erin Elaine)