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The Struggles Of Will - epic style
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The Struggles Of Will - epic style |
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janmew Member
since 2001-10-27
Posts 134Canada |
With his young wife and his wee boys, three he took the long journey across the wide sea. Two years Will spent working hard for a boss whilst traveling each Sunday to preach 'fore the cross. Tales of a place where land was cheap; the fruits of his toils his own to reap; where a person could make their own success, soon lured him north to the wilderness. No road to travel to the home he’d construct O’re streams and through forests on foot he trucked He struggled and toiled to clear his new land pulled every tree stump with his very own hand. He carried supplies for miles on his back easily shouldering a forty pound sack, He worked building roads for more settlers to come and saved every penny to build his new home. With first just one cow, and a sickly old horse life in the wilds was a struggle of course then just when things looked like they’d turn around fire in the chimney razed their house to the ground. All but the clothes on their backs they did lose through tears and soot he was forced to choose, turning his back and walking away was not the choice he made on that day. Will set his sights forward and built his new life Working season after season to overcome strife Building a farm from the earth with his hands a home for his family in this untamed land. Then one sweltering hot day in mid July the voices of many would be heard to cry The Great Fire of ‘16 raged like wild thunder spreading terror in it’s wake, leaving survivors in wonder. Many a poor settler lost their lives on that day when the bush went up in flames like tinder-dry hay blazing forward unstoppable in leaps and in bounds taking everything with it, leaving only black ground He struggled relentless with ladder and pail catching each spark; determined not to fail; weary and worn when the inferno was past but alive and not homeless, and resting at last. Standing amid the smoldering embers nothing for miles but fire scorched timbers a home standing proudly where it shouldn’t be so; a landmark proclaiming what one man can do. Poetry is an expression of feelings. I do not write poems, but rather, the poems use me to write themselves. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Jan - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
JanMew~ Very nicely done. I enjoyed the cadence which made it a pleasure to read~ ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
I love your story poem. Joyce |
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Trillium
since 2001-03-09
Posts 12098Idaho, USA |
This is a great story and well written. Perhaps it speaks to me especially as my parents homesteaded in Northern Alberta in the 1920's. I have heard many tales of the hardships they went through. I even remember a few my self from the late 30's! Betty Lou Hebert |
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janmew Member
since 2001-10-27
Posts 134Canada |
I had lost this poem in the threads. SO sorry not to have replied earlier. I'm so glad everyone enjoyed reading it. I have made one slight modification to it since the original. Jan |
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