This week: Louisa May Alcott Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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| This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
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From The Short Story A Christmas Dream, And How It Came True
by Louisa May Alcott
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring
For Christmas-tide is here.
Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.
Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
"Welcome, dear day,"
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.
On November 29, 1832, in Germantown, Pennsylvania Amos Bronson Alcott and his wife Abby May, welcomed daughter Louisa May Alcott into the world. Alcott's parents were from very modest means, Amos was an educator and Abby was a social worker. Alcott had one older sister and two younger sisters. It was clear very early on in Alcott's life that her father was unable to properly provide for his family. This caused a lot of resentment by Abby towards Amos. A sentiment that she shared with her daughters as they grew up. Amos taught his daughters at first at the Temple School in Boston, where he worked for a time and then at home.
As Alcott got older she knew her father was not capable of providing for his family so she took on that role. She taught for a brief period and then worked as a domestic. Finally she settled on writing. Her early works were written under a pen name "A.M. Barnard." When the American Civil War began Alcott volunteered as a nurse. She contracted typhoid fever and was sent home. Her health was never the same again. Alcott published her letters from her time at the hospital in "Hospital Sketches " in 1863. Which brought her first true taste of fame. After that her stories started showing up in print in the Atlantic. Though getting paid some for each monthly publication it was not enough to help support her family. That's when she decided to write the autobiographical novel "Little Women," published in 1869. It was an instant success and allowed Alcott to pay off all family debts.
Alcott followed the success of Little Women with two sequels, "Little Men: Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys," published in 1871 and "Jo’s Boys and How They Turned Out," published in 1886. Alcott also wrote other stories drawn from her childhood experiences: "An Old-Fashioned Girl'' published in 1870, followed by "Aunt Jo’s Scrap Bag," 6 volumes published between 1872 to 1882 and "Eight Cousins" in 1875; and "Rose in Bloom" in 1876. Alcott travelled once to Europe for a book tour and made a few trips to New York and that was the only time she was away from her family home in Boston. She spent most of her 30's and 40's caring for her mother, who passed away in 1877.
On March 6, 1888 at fifty-five years old, Louisa May Alcott passed away. Her death came only two days after her father was laid to rest. Her last book "A Modern Mephistopheles", a gothic novel was published pseudonymously in 1877.
The Rock and The Bubble
by Louisa May Alcott
Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.
A little bubble
Once came sailing by,
And thus to the rock
Did it gayly cry,--
"Ho! clumsy brown stone,
Quick, make way for me:
I'm the fairest thing
That floats on the sea.
"See my rainbow-robe,
See my crown of light,
My glittering form,
So airy and bright.
"O'er the waters blue,
I'm floating away,
To dance by the shore
With the foam and spray.
"Now, make way, make way;
For the waves are strong,
And their rippling feet
Bear me fast along."
But the great rock stood
Straight up in the sea:
It looked gravely down,
And said pleasantly--
"Little friend, you must
Go some other way;
For I have not stirred
this many a long day.
"Great billows have dashed,
And angry winds blown;
But my sturdy form
Is not overthrown.
"Nothing can stir me
In the air or sea;
Then, how can I move,
Little friend, for thee?"
Then the waves all laughed
In their voices sweet;
And the sea-birds looked,
From their rocky seat,
At the bubble gay,
Who angrily cried,
While its round cheek glowed
With a foolish pride,--
"You SHALL move for me;
And you shall not mock
At the words I say,
You ugly, rough rock.
"Be silent, wild birds!
While stare you so?
Stop laughing, rude waves,
And help me to go!
"For I am the queen
Of the ocean here,
And this cruel stone
Cannot make me fear."
Dashing fiercely up,
With a scornful word,
Foolish Bubble broke;
But Rock never stirred.
Then said the sea-birds,
Sitting in their nests
To the little ones
Leaning on their breasts,--
"Be not like Bubble,
Headstrong, rude, and vain,
Seeking by violence
Your object to gain;
"But be like the rock,
Steadfast, true, and strong,
Yet cheerful and kind,
And firm against wrong.
"Heed, little birdlings,
And wiser you'll be
For the lesson learned
To-day by the sea."
From The Short Story Shadow-Children
by Louisa May Alcott
Little shadows, little shadows
Dancing on the chamber wall,
While I sit beside the hearthstone
Where the red flames rise and fall.
Caps and nightgowns, caps and nightgowns,
My three antic shadows wear;
And no sound they make in playing,
For the six small feet are bare.
Dancing gayly, dancing gayly,
To and fro all together,
Like a family of daisies
Blown about in windy weather;
Nimble fairies, nimble fairies,
Playing pranks in the warm glow,
While I sing the nursery ditties
Childish phantoms love and know.
Now what happens, now what happens?
One small shadow's tumbled down:
I can see it on the carpet
Softly rubbing its hurt crown.
No one whimpers, no one whimpers;
A brave-hearted sprite is this:
See! the others offer comfort
In a silent, shadowy kiss.
Hush! they're creeping; hush! they're creeping,
Up about my rocking-chair:
I can feel their loving fingers
Clasp my neck and touch my hair.
Little shadows, little shadows,
Take me captive, hold me tight,
As they climb and cling and whisper,
"Mother dear, good night! good night!"
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
Shadows in the night
Dancing below the
Broken streetlights.
A vacancy in a lonely hotel
beckons in the storm,
the man and women
enter the storm-tossed hotel.
shutting the shutters
against the night time rain.
Just another night
sleepless in Seattle..
Honorable mention:
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Poetry: December 01, 2021 Issue [#11098]
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