BW8: Sunday's Book Babble - Bridge to Nowhere

 

It's week 8 in our 52 Books Quest Did you know Monday is Walk your Dog day, National Margarita day, and International Thinking day? So make a pitcher of margaritas, take a walk with your fur baby, and ponder life, the universe and everything.  Oh, and please share your favorite margarita recipes.  Don’t forget to buy some Girl Scout Cookies since thinking day was created in 1926 during the fourth Girl Guide/Girl Scout International Conference Plus. Plus the 26th is Tell a Fairy Tale day so read a fairy tale or make up one of your own.  Which I have done: 

 Bridge to Nowhere

By

Robin M. 

 On a bridge to Nowhere

To see No One

Who could be Anyone,

Who has traveled,

Happy and safe,

Everywhere and somewhere.

Music leads Them

From near to far

Across the bridge

to Nowhere.

The sky is full of light

Sparkling and clear.

The air is full of love,

Plenty and dear.

There, They sing

And dance and play,

Making up lines

And have plenty to say.

Past the bridge that Leads

to Nowhere.

They live to the rhythm

Of bass, cymbals, and drums

And maybe

A horn or flute or two.

Feet stamp, hands clap

And hips sway

To the beat

Of the drum.

Who laughs, What sings

And Baby laughs with joy.

And all the voices ring,

 

Welcome to Nowhere.

***************

A to Z Poetry: 4 a.m. fragments

 

4 a.m. fragments

He yells, 

awakening me from sleep

I'm  fighting a war, saving the world.

He won't remember when he wakes

the glorious battle he fought in the deep.

Did the hero win?

Hubby mumbles and nudges me

waking me once again. 

The cell phone dings and we

 can't ignore the beep or blip or ring,

no matter where or when.

 Even with my glasses, too bleary eyed to read.

It's not an emergency.

It's nothing, I say, 

 just the stupid phone with a mind of its own.

Gracie nudged me in the  back 

purring like a tribble.

Images of Star Trek space battles 

coalesce and thoughts start to roam 

from here to there and everywhere. 

Who'd let the damn cat in?

 Unable to sleep, I rise to write  

and characters interject, telling me what to say.

I give in and let them guide the pen.

The story works when I get out of their way.

When all is said and done, 

tired, yet wired, 

It's time to begin my day.

A to Z Poetry: Haiku - Kitten Cuddles

Kitten Cuddles

Dawn, soon eyes open

Warm pink skies, kitten cuddles

bed too warm to leave

A to Z Poetry - Paper and Pen

"I write on paper with a dipped pen and ink and type on a manual typewriter in order to have three dimensional activities with my hands- but again and again, I discover how far words are capable of going, both in the world and on the page. " ~ Susan Minot.

Paper and Pen

dipped in ink.

Words.

Rambling and disjointed,

pointed,

purposeful.

Images

formed,

a tale told and retold.

Torn apart;

blended,

thoughts and plans

ebb 

like the tide.

New

elements of life

abandoned,

found.

Circular,

Ideas flow.

Lessons to learn,

Time to think.

Paper and pen

dipped in ink.

2020 First quarter writing Wrap Up

Hey! Tomorrow is the first of April  which means it's a new quarter and time to revisit the goals I set for myself for Quarter one.  I persevered in writing almost every single day, some of which I posted. I pretty much failed with my current WIP-RT.  I did print it out and put it in a notebook, but other than that no progress.  Lent arrived and I concentrated on free writing.  

I'm still reading "A Year of Writing Dangerously: 365 Days of Inspiration and Encouragement by Barbara Abercrombie. I've been forging ahead, reading a few entries at a time, quotes and conversations inspiring me or full of synchronicity.  Such as

"It's the imagination that gives us poetry...You have to follow where the poem leads. And it will surprise you.  It will say things you didn't expect to say. And you look at the poem and you realize; that is truly what I felt. That is truly what I saw." ~ Philip Levine. 

I don't consider myself a poet and there are very few poets I read unless doing research for the next 52 Books sunday post.  However, I'm writing more and more poetry along with snippets of conversations with myself and characters and the universe, a few story scenes. Whatever comes to mind.  I'm  tempted to commit to A to Z poetry and post a poem every day for the month of April.    I'm also tempted to do the A to Z writing challenge.  However, I know I wouldn't be able to keep up with it. I'm unofficially setting a goal to continue writing every day during the month of April as I have been for the first quarter, diligently for Lent and after Easter as well. And if I happen to come up with enough poems to post everyday, that will be just groovy. I'm not going to force it though and we'll see what happens. 

I filled my first quarter goals with my eyes are bigger than my stomach syndrome and planned way too much.   I gave up on Crafting the Personal Essay and Dinty Moore's Flash Fiction as neither inspired me.  Both were books I'd used before and for some reason, once I'm done with a book, I don't like to go back.  I have several writing books on my shelves, including Barbara Abercrombie's Kicking in the Wall as well as Anne Bernay's What If, which  I have yet to utilize so I'll be drawing on them for a variety of reasons which includes helping me finish revising WIP-RT. 

I have a tendency to quit writing when I'm stressed and I'm trying hard not to let the stress of the day stop me.   

I'm following the KISS method this time!

~Cheers~

A to Z Poetry: Nature's Washing Machine

Nature’s Washing Machine 

If you could stop the world

for a moment, a day, or a lifetime, 

would you’d sit on the shore
and contemplate the view, the moment,
the past, or the present?

A word or sentence or phrase comes to mind,

speaks to you, leads you, 

raises a question, demands an answer,

literally and figuratively.  

You sit down on the beach

and count the grains of sand. 

Impossible… maybe.  

Fragments shift across your palm,

hot and parched, some moist and cold. 

It flows through your fingers,
grains adhere to the lines and 
wrinkles of your palm.

between your fingers, under your fingernails, 

Sparkling, shiny bits of dust. 

All shapes and sizes: rough or smooth,

large or small, hard or soft.  

Just like your thoughts.  

Hard edges, soft moments.  

You can hold on or brush them away.

Countless grains, 

Particles of life.  

Is it possible to catch the thoughts 

of the person who sat here before you,

when they ran their hands scooped up the sand 

and let it drift through their fingers?   

So many grains of sand, 

so many thoughts left behind.  

Where do they all go?
You reflect and imagine   

they tumble out to sea in a wash of waves.

Cleansed and returned, 
with the flow of the tides,

full of peace, full of quiet power. 

A to Z Poetry: Dust

Dusting off some Words by Jabbokdawn

One of the words for the day in Pause for Lent is dust which prompted some interesting thoughts.

Dust

Our bodies.

Earthly vessels.

Neither a hindrance,
Nor a necessity.

Crumble and fade,
as our souls soar 

to heavenly heights.

Do we return as dust? 

A grain of sand,  quintillion atoms

float and gather.
All we see and do not see,

everywhere surrounds us.

In the air we breath.
On the furniture, the floor,
picture frames galore. 

Particles of souls long gone. 

Foundation for our feet.
Nutrients for our bodies.

Dust.
Beginning to finish,  

Start to the end.  

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Those we love and miss the most.

Beloved dust. 

I am you and you are me.

We are dust and to dust

we shall return. 

I never thought I would appreciate dust and will never look it the same way again. Prayerful dusting shall be the rule from now on. 

A to Z Poetry: One True Sentence

In the mornings I've been reading several snippets daily from A Year of Writing Dangerously instead of one a day, taking notes and mulling things over, and finding encouragement.  I may write a few sentences, a poem, whatever comes to mind in response.

127 One True Sentence:  

"In a Moveable Feast Ernest Hemingway writes: 'I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think. 'Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now.  All you have to do is write one true sentence.  Write the truest sentence that you know.'  So finally I would write one true sentence and go from there.  It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that I knew or had seen or had heard someone way."

 *******

One true sentence,

nothing fancy, nothing prosaic. 

Just write. 

Easy. 

Simple.

One. 

One word. One Sentence. 

Then more.

A paragraph until you've filled 

the page with words. 

A picture, 

painted in script. 

Flowers made of nouns,

a verb, an adjective. 

A person, a place, a thing

from your imagining.  

No rules, no goals, no end game.  

Pen to paper,

thought to hand. 

Let it all out and see where you land. 

A trail of letters, a path of paragraphs.

lead you to an adventure,

a journey that never gets old.

Flowers, brilliant and glowing,

lead you to a knowing.

Words, soft and quiet,

Tell a story, 

Only you will know, 

If you don't put pen to paper.

One letter, one word, one paragraph.

One true sentence.

Let it all out and  see where you land. 

*****

  

A to Z Poetry: Bridge to Nowhere

Mtirala Bridge, Ajara, Georgia

On a bridge to Nowhere

To see No One,

Who could be Any one,

Who has traveled,

Happy and safe,

Everywhere and somewhere.

Music leads him

From far to near,

across the bridge

to Nowhere.

The sky is full of light

Sparkling and clear.

The air is full of love,

Plenty and dear.

There, they sing and

dance and play,

Making up lines as they

Have plenty to say.

Past the bridge that

Leads to  Nowhere,

They live to the rhythm

Of bass, cymbals, and drums

And maybe

A horn or flute or two.

Feet stamp, hands clap

And hips sway

To the beat

Of the drum.

Who laughs, What sings

And Baby laughs with joy.

How do you do?

Welcome to Nowhere.

A to Z Poetry: Bridge

Bridge

A bridge comes to mind,

But you don't know why.

You stress, you curse

life's little jams.

One minute. Two.

Hearts race to find 

That road, that path

That place out of time

What to do?

Lights flash and shine

off the walls,

off the lines. 

Blocked, hemmed in, 

Can't find the exit.  

Sweat pools, anger fuels

Stuck in the middle lane.

. 

A to Z Poetry: Absence

Absence

Absence

We'll never see eye to eye, 
If you don't let me grow,
if I don't let you fly.

No longer babies, no longer teens.

Perceiving things by different means

I see blues. You see greens.

I tell the truth. You tell me I lie. 

Not understanding as 

I walk away with a sigh. 

Middle age. Both busy, both immersed.

Crossing t's and dotting i's
Embroiled in our daily lives.

We'll never see eye to eye, 
If you don't let me grow,
if I don't let you fly.

Love laced with strings 

snap and sting,

When you run out of sight. 

You leave, I grieve. 
You return, I accept.
Never demanding the words one would expect.


We'll never see eye to eye, 
If you don't let me grow,
if I don't let you fly.

Some day when we are old and spry
There'll be no more eggshells, 

and no more why's.

Perhaps, then we'll see eye to eye. 

Writing deliberately with Passion, Purpose, and Practice

Hello 2020! A new decade, depending on which calendar you are following, has started and along with it, I turned 60 a couple months ago. Since I have entered a new decade in my life, I've decided it's time to start anew. A fresh start without guilt or judgement. It's time to concentrate on my writing and really make it part of me rather than leave it behind. 

 I haven't written anything new in months. This year I did finish typing up a rough draft of a story I wrote a few years back, but it has lots of holes and little emotion. I edited, reread, edited again and failed to make progress. I started reading James Scott Bell's Just Write and as always, I had an epiphany. I should have been revising and rewriting instead of editing.

I let the stress and busyness of life pull me away. Hubby, son, cats, books, the business and the internet as well, pulled at me and I gave up, filled my mind with other authors writing. They go where I fear to tread. I let doubt creep in and the interruptions stop me, and stress, as always, create a brick wall. Conflict added another layer, grief a third. Instead of passion and perseverance, inertia ruled the day. Writing is one of my loves. Do I treat love so shabbily, taking people for granted, assuming they will always be around when I call. We all have busy lives. We touch base, before we go back to our normal.

I'll admit to being self centered, totally wrapped up in our life. The construction project from heck took up all my bandwidth. Time, money, effort. There are only so many things I can handle at once. Immersed in the day to day, first home school, then the business. The time spent was all to our benefit, God providing every step of the way.

I once compared writing to a river with the ebb and flow of the tides, the rush of white water, the calm of the pond. My river has grown stagnant because I limited myself and failed to nurture my creativity, ignored my life, the poetry, the non fiction, the fiction. I simply refused to move forward or look inside myself, pulled from the depths of my soul.

I'm ready to immerse myself in creativity and more than ready to dive back into the river, let the current take me away and fill me with words, the imaginary lives of characters, conundrums, and conflicts. I miss getting lost in my head.The universe or synchronicity, call it what you will, has been nudging me lately to write and for the past couple weeks, I've managed to plant my butt in the chair and write on a regular basis. Not anything of substance really, but forming the habit once again with daily free writing, whether it be morning pages, journal or dabbling with poetry.

It generally takes two weeks to form a habit, but 10,000 hours to become proficient. However,it depends on how you use those hours rather than just putting in the hours. Evidently I've wasted a few hours, so am going to work on deliberate practice while taking the time to study the areas I'm weak in.

With passion, purpose, and practice, I aim to be more productive this year and be the writer I want to be. Let's add positivity and perseverance to the mix as well. No whining, moaning, or complaining,  just hard work and elbow grease. I'll post my goals for this quarter soon.

James has been guest posting, keeping My Two Blessings from going completely dark, which I greatly appreciate. My blog is turning into a teenager and will be thirteen years old this year. Hope it doesn't suffer from teenage angst. *grin*


Happy writing!

Writerly Wednesday: Moving Forward

Artist - Marie Anne Foucart

Moving Forward

Keep moving forward, looking ahead,

staying in the present,
learning from the past.

eyes to the future. No regrets.

Thoughts, fast and fleeting,

heart beating a timpani,

nerves and stress.

Nothing in reserve.

Time to regroup.

You gather yourself together.

Give up what you can't control

and charge forward.

Time to write, 

time to ponder,
wonder and believe
everything will fall into place.

You press for movement.
Do this, do that. 

Why nots and how comes,

demand a finish date.

How do we pay for it all?

Ever anxious, always afraid to ask.

We sit back in wonder.

Grateful, thankful.

Possible becomes probable.

Money, help, advice
Comes to hand,
never early, never late. 

Creativity stilted, blocked, quieted, 

hums in the background,

never ending, waiting for hand

to put pen to paper.

Some days,

one sentence, two.

Other days, pages.

Angst, thanks and snafus.

Characters jump to the fore.

Hello, what's new?

Not stewing, if that's what you think

Living, loving, breathing.

We'll jump back into place,
ready when you are.

We've made new friends
in the meantime.

Would you like to meet?

Characters, old and new.

How do you do?

We're ready, let's move.

~R.L.McCormack

A to Z Poetry: Epiphany

Epiphany 

Two things on your mind today.

One says pay attention to life at all times.

Eyes and ears and senses

 open wide. 

Another says it's all in your head, 

Rule nothing out and spill it all.

Fill up the page with your rage 

and your fear and the blame. 

A word becomes a sentence,

a paragraph, a page.  And

an idea is born with the 

change of a name. 

Fake people and places to 

perplex and harass.  

Cause a fuss, make them dream

Give them purpose, create a scene. 

Not true, says one character.

You give us life to live. 

None are you and you are all. 

We live through you and you through us.

 We breath, we eat, we love and

experience the profound to the silly. 

We delve into the deepest ocean of your mind 

and pull out what we find.

Tears and fears, imaginary and real.

Firsts and lasts, life and death,

Sweet and fierce, cold and soft.

You give us room to spread our wings.

You give us meaning,  

A face and a place. 

You give us space  

to be.  

A to Z Poetry: Choices

Choices 

Is your cup half empty or is it half full?

Or is it overflowing, due to things you think 

are beyond your control?

You've caged yourself in and given me the key,

granted us the privilege,

giving me your responsibility. 

Don't give me your strength, nor give me your weakness,

then tell me it's my fault and and expect it 

to be accepted with meekness 

Life is full of cups and cages

 of our own making. We all have choices,

My mother would always say, quite sagacious

Take back your key and throw it away.

Build yourself up, not tear yourself down.

 Break out of your cage and rule your own day.

~R.L. McCormack

Sunday Salon: Productive and Creative

Happy Sunday!  I am quite proud of myself although it's only been four days.  I've automatically, without help of the alarm, woken up an hour early every day.   Except for today of course.  I have spent at least 10 minutes daily working on the first scene in Chapter one. I'm ready to type it up and move on to the next scene.  Yesterday I had been thinking that since it had only been four days and the month started midweek, I should give myself extra time and continue to work on that one scene for this week.  However, I'm ready to move on.  Hubby's been quite useful as a sounding board, bouncing ideas off of him.  He's being quite encouraging.  

So the goal for this week is to review and rewrite Scene 2 from Greg's point of view, plus write and schedule posts for this week.  I'm almost caught up with my book reviews, have three more to write and then I'll schedule them for the coming weeks.  

James and I are going out this afternoon for our annual Super Bowl Shopping trip.  It became a tradition when our wonderful neighbor starting putting off an air horn every time his favorite team made a touchdown.  Drives both of us up the wall.  We have fun going to the comic book store, Barnes and Noble, and picking up something for dinner.  My book buying ban is still in force (which a friend quickly reminded me of when she heard about our shopping trip) so I'm going to try and resist temptation.  Maybe I'll pick up a book for Hubby.  *grin*

My 52 Books group is traveling through England for the month of February and this month's flower is Rose.  I shouldn't have too much trouble spelling that one out.  

I'm still reading Helprin's A Soldier of the Great War (dusty and chunky) which is quite interesting and Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase (ebook) and as always, his books are off the wall.   I just finished listening to Faith Hunter's Blood of the Earth from her Soulwood series and will begin Curse on the Land tomorrow during my drive to work.   

It's the beginning of the end of our homeschooling journey.  We are down to the wire as we begin James 2nd Semester of 12th grade. Never imagined we'd end up working through all 12 years.  Hubby, who always swore he wasn't a teacher, now happily embraces his position and is learning just as much as James this year with Geometry and Chemistry.  I'm in charge of the two e's this semester -- English and Economics.   We still have half our budget given to us by Visions to spend, so going to have some fun shopping for biographies, memoirs, poetry, as well as more chemistry materials.  

Off to shop, then plan lessons for the week.  

~Cheers~

February Intentions: MyProWriMo

Hello February! How do you do.  This is the month I planned on doing MyProWriMo (My Promise to Write Month) and I'm already balking.  "I have too much to do," Miss Busy Butt yells from my left shoulder and while little Miss Sunshine Hope whispers with confidence from my right, "yes we can."   

Organization is the key, plus Lent is coming up so my intention is to spend less time internet browsing and more time writing.  Particularly since I finished outlining Eyes in the Ashes.  I finally came to the realization that I could spend days and months getting ready with more research and more character interviews and this and that, because it's so much fun. However, the goal is to actually rewrite the book and I expect some things will be revealed in the writing that I hadn't thought of during my brainstorming sessions.  And that's part of the fun of writing as well.    So.... 

My intentions for this month:   

WIP:  I have 30 chapters plotted out and plan to work on one chapter a week.  I've been dithering between first person and third person and will see which works best.  All the exercises I've done lately with my main characters have been written in first person which has really flowed well. The first draft was done in third person but I feel like I'm connecting better with the characters in first, so will see how it goes.  I dove in yesterday, rewriting the first scene from first person point of view and it's humming along.  Goal -  complete 4 chapters this month. 

Post every day:   Posting every day will be simple enough as long as I'm organized and spend my afternoon writing time wisely.  I have a tendency to get lost on the internet for a couple hours after James and I are done with lessons.   I don't know about you, but I'll go online to look something up, then the distractions begin.  Before I know it, it is time to make dinner, then James wants to watch something and hubby wants attention and then all I want to do is read for the rest of the evening.  So time management is the key.  My posts will be a mixture of book reviews, chapter notes, A - Z poetry, pictures, flash fiction or nonfiction, life updates and whatever else sparks this month. 

A to Z Poetry: Birth

Birth

An idea comes in the midst of sleep.

Drowsily you grab paper and pen

to scrawl words to keep,

before they are lost again.

Characters once asleep

 in the shadows of your mind,

come to life with a leap.
A story is born in a moment of time.

Let's start with my name
then we'll fill in the rest,

the chick says as she claims

 a home in your mind's nest. 

I want joy and strife,

a mountain to climb, a pit so deep, 

the bottom or top of my life.

will take time to reach.

I may need a mate,  but not quite like me  

we'll both need a race, a riddle, a quest, to solve.
I don't want simple or carefree

while our life evolves.

She sits on your shoulder, filling your ears.
You'll tell the tale of my life
living vicariously through my fears and tears,
laughter and love and strife.

A lifetime created with one little spark
when you read the page
written so clumsily in the dark.
Psst! My name is Sage.


~R.L.McCormack~

2018 Challenges, Goals and Intentions

Balancing Rocks by Stuant63

Happy New Year!   Yes,  it's that time of the year when we start over with good intentions to balance out our lives and spend less time on the internet.   I’m still trying to figure out my Word for the year – debating between persist, steadfast, or intention. 

To persist is to continue steadfastly or firmly in some state, purpose, course of action, or the like, especially in spite of opposition, remonstrance.  Also means to last or endure tenaciously.  

To be steadfast is to be fixed in direction; steadily directed

Intention - purpose or attitude toward the effect of one's actions or conduct. To have purpose or design. 

Now that I’ve looked at the definitions, persist and steadfast seem to be pretty much the same. Continue to stay the course, being stubborn, have purpose, despite opposition. The only opposition is myself and neither word at this point seems too terribly optimistic  or will help me move forward.  Intention is more positive, more purposeful. More action oriented.  I feel like I’d make more progress with life and  writing and other projects if I went with intent.  Instead of saying I think I will or maybe I will or perhaps we should, it will be I intend to.  Or as Yoda says "Do or do not, there is no try."  

Blog wise, the official posting schedule will be Monday, Wednesday and Friday which means the posts need to be written the day before. I started to dabble with poetry and created my own A to Z poetry challenge. I made it through K this past year since I started midway.   So I'm going to start all over again.  I want to keep the schedule flexible as I'll be working on not only poetry, but flash fiction and nonfiction, book reviews.

Back in June after reading Sage Cohen's Fierce on the Page,  I tried my own My Promise to Write Month (MyPRoWriMo) in which I posted every single day of the month and I did well for a couple months. This year I'm going to take it month by month, play it by ear and maybe do it every one month. We'll see.  I need to spend time coming up with an outline, work on editing my current WIP as well as coming up with new story ideas so will probably start MyProWriMo in February.

Writing wise, I've been having a  failure to commit to anything. My last WIP is festering. I haven't any new ideas except perhaps one that is percolating at the moment.  This is where my word of the year comes in.  My intent is to finish rewriting my current WIP by the end of the year or decide once and for all to shelve the story.  Now that I'm starting to feel more creative having freed myself from the 'silence' debacle, I'm ready to dive in.  I'm going to feel my way through the schedule for January, determining when the best time to write and the best time to edit works for me, plus figure out a weekly word goal. 

Reading Wise: For the next few months, I’ll be reading from my TBR shelves since every year I start off with the goal of a  4 month buying ban.  I usually make it until February before I’m enticed by a new release by a favorite author.  *grin*  

I’m starting my year with something historical but couldn’t wait to start and dove into Sharon Kay Penman’s 15th century history fiction novel -  The Sunne in Splendor – a couple day ago.  A dusty and chunky book which has been calling my name for some time.  I’ll be dipping into Murakami’s Trilogy of the Rat starting with Hear the Wind Sing in between Penman's book since it is quite chunky.

My 52 Books armchair travel adventures are starting the year in Japan and China so besides  Murakami’s Trilogy of the Rat and Miyabe’s The Gates of Sorrow, the other books on my nightstand is  Keigo Higashino's Devotion of Suspect X, Qui Xiaolong's Mao Case, and Cixin Lui's Three Body Problem.

Inspiration  wise – I’m reading Thomas Merton’s Thoughts in Solitude.

Writing wise – Katherine Grubb’s Write a Novel in Ten Minutes a Day as well as Ralph Keyes The Courage to Write.  

Audiobook wise – I’m listening to Faith Hunter’s Blood of the Earth.  James and I are also listening to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. 

“Live with intention.

Walk to the edge.

Listen Hard.

Practice wellness.

Play with abandon.

Laugh.

Choose with no regret.

Appreciate your friends.

Continue to learn.

Do what you love.

Live as if this is all there is.” 

― Mary Anne Radmacher

~Cheers to a wonderful, productive, intentional writing and reading new year! 

Merry Christmas!

Hubby is carving the turkey and kitty is holding the wine. Dinner is almost ready to be served. Feeling blessed. Hugs and love to all.

Christmas Bells

By 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play, 

And wild and sweet 

The words repeat 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

And thought how, as the day had come, 

The belfries of all Christendom 

Had rolled along 

The unbroken song 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

Till ringing, singing on its way, 

The world revolved from night to day, 

A voice, a chime, 

A chant sublime 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

Then from each black, accursed mouth 

The cannon thundered in the South, 

And with the sound 

The carols drowned 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

It was as if an earthquake rent 

The hearth-stones of a continent, 

And made forlorn 

The households born 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

And in despair I bowed my head; 

"There is no peace on earth," I said; 

For hate is strong, 

And mocks the song 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" 

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; 

The Wrong shall fail, 

The Right prevail, 

With peace on earth, good-will to men."