Today I thought I'd share some of my early writings. Partly as an encouragement to young authors (see how far I've come) and partly because... I still like that poem, and the story is apparently the only Christmas short story I have besides An Old-Time Christmas... need to change that. Well, I did wrote a Christmas poem but it's in French and I doubt you'd get anything out of it... XP
(Also, FYI, I seem to be in a silly mood this afternoon. Enjoy, because I'm usually not when it get to blogging. You're welcome.)
This was originally titled "Sharing My Early Writings: 2 English Poems & 1 Story + One French Poem (translated!)" which was probably one of the longest blogpost titles ever... until I decided to move the poem to another post. xP
Anyhow, without any more rambling
So, the first version.
THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE
(Written by a young World War I soldier on the Western front to his family in Canada, as a letter)
On Christmas Day, in 1914,
In the middle of the war
We made a truce, I ween.
We common soldiers, my dear brothers,
As our high-and-mighty officers
Would not, my dear uncle vicars.
We exchanged buttons with each other,
And also addresses and chocolate cakes.
I met a German cook who can make
A very wonderful piece of pie!
“It will not last”—I hear you sigh
Dearest Isobel and Margot —and you are right.
As Christmas fades into the night
We fire—no more silence, alas, alack!
The war is back.
“A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”
—Ecclesiastes 3:8
I still have a soft spot for it! It's got such a cool plot. ;) I love how I managed to work in my favourite girl names of the time (as unrealistic as they are for an English Canadian family...) and how I desperate grabbed some "uncle vicars" to rhyme with "officers"... and then discovered it doesn't really rhyme. XD And I do like the last three lines! ;)
Then in 2016 (I think...) I updated the poem to send it in to a contest.
ON THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE OF 1914
“A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”
—Ecclestiastes 3:3-4, 8
The war had boomed from many shores,
And it would boom from many more.
Yet on that Day of days, Christ’s holy Spirit
Of Joy, Love, and Peace, they chose to share it.
O blessèd Peace, begun by Truce! not in thy breast
Should there be room for hate; thy blessing rests
Alike on thy sage maker and simple keeper.—
In th’ impromptu soccer and friendly chatter
And old carols dear, Christ’s wond’rous coming
Was anew remember’d , so sweet and aweing.
Perhaps ’twas our Father’s kindly reaching
To th’ endanger’d deaf to preaching.
In amiable contention and hearty laughing
Did men forget their own, their nation’s hating.
As upward rose the lovely strains familiar
Of “Silent Night, Holy Night” in clear
Tones, the one tune and diff’rent tongues
Brought to each the one with whom he last it sung
Around the hearth of home, or near the church’s altar.
For God made but one man, no hundred warriors.
But Peace is e’er shackled by man’s brutality.
As Christmas faded into night’s sweet amity,
Deep-ton’d guns rent the air, demoniac!
Implacable, compassionless, war rolled back.
Soooo at the time I was studying English poetry of the 1700s and 1800s... XD I think this isn't a bad imitation, haha! I do still really like the last line. ;P #dramaqueen
Aaaaand then here's the story. I think I wrote this around 2016...
PEACE ON EARTH
The old Christmas carols wafted about Noëlla Hollie. The tears which had sprung to her eyes now threatened to overflow, and she hastily bent her head to disclose her emotion. Her lips trembled, and she was unable to keep them straight. “Oh, Christopher!” she moaned. “If you were here, I should be happy now!”
Noëlla Hollie was an orphan. Her family, attacked one and all by pneumonia had one by one been taken from her. Her eldest brother, Christopher, had died of it merely two weeks ago, and now, instead of being filled by the joy of Christmas, she was filled with the sorrow of death.
“Why, hello, Miss Merrie,” a cheery voice hailed her. “How are you today?”
“Good day, Mr. Crossman,” the girl replied in a low voice, fearing that her voice should betray her.
Mr. Crossman peered at her. “Why, surely you are not crying, Miss Merrie!” he exclaimed, with genuine astonishment and dismay in his tone.
Noëlla Hollie suddenly burst into a paroxysm of tears, covering her face with her hands. Mr Crossman reached over and patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Miss Merrie. Losing a loved one is always very difficult, but it's doubly so when one has no one left." He paused, waited until the girl was controlling her tears, then continued, "Have you not told me your name is Noëlla Hollie Merrie?"
Noëlla Hollie nodded, wiping her eyes. "Yes. My mother named me that because I was born at midnight in Christmas Day. It happened that my last name was Merrie."
Mr Crossman paused again, then said, "Have you ever wondered why God arranged it so that you received that name?"
Noëlla Hollie looked at him, surprised and bemused. "No. Why?"
"Well, perhaps it was because His work for you was that you'd bring peace and joy to others," Mr Crossman suggested. "Perhaps you could take as your life's verse Luke 2:14, you know, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men' and work for that end."
Noëlla Hollie nodded slowly, her mind going over what the minister had just said.
"Of course, I don't claim to know Gods plan for you," he added hastily. "Perhaps you should pray about it. Ask God to help you in your pain, and show you what Ge wants you to do for Him." He patted her shoulder again. "Well, good day, Miss Merrie. God bless!"
Noëlla Hollie merely nodded in reply, too full of thoughts to think of responding. Suddenly the strains of Hark! the Herald Angels Sing rang out, clear and pure:
“Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with healing in His wings:”
She smiled suddenly. “‘He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces,’” she murmured. “Yes, Lord! I surrender. ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord’—Thy will be done.”
~ / / ~
Don't ask me what's up with that ending.... I had to stop and think for a while before I figured out what I'd been trying to say. I'm still not quite sure. xP
Also, it is hilarious that I tried to find a fancy words for "hide" and used "disclose"... which means "make a secret thing known." 🤣 And finally, I find it so funny that I managed to call her after Christmas Day, Christmas decorations, and the Christmas spirit. XD Still, I like the message. ;)
~ / / ~
So there you are. I hope this made you smile, and I hope it encouraged aspiring authors out there... weaned to start somewhere, and sometimes the things you write when you're young aren't too bad. <3
And now, hop over to Faith's to see the other posts!
There's also a 12DoC giveaway this year! There’s two prizes, and each winner will receive a paperback copy of Behold by Faith Potts, a pair of fuzzy Christmas socks, a Christmas ornament, and a few other small goodies (magnet, candy, something like that). The giveaway will open on the 14th at 12am and close at 12am Christmas morning. Winners will be announced in Faith's post on Christmas Day. Click here to enter!
What's one of the earliest things you wrote?
What's one of the earliest things you wrote?
Ignore the typo “weaned”... I meant, “we need.” XP
ReplyDeleteOkay, I just love that you shared this!! I don't think I'd post something 12-year-old me wrote... X'D That poem is really good!! And I haven't read much old English poetry but I think you did great. And I totally relate with trying to find a fancy word...that one time I said "the multitudinous noises" still makes me cringe. X'D
ReplyDeleteAww, I’m glad! Hahaha, I never thought I would either XD Thank you! :) lol that’s an author problem!
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