Well... I did it... I got brave... :D

Well... I got brave today. :D I actually did something I've never done before... something I never even considered doing until about 6 months ago...

I am OFFICIALLY self publishing a book of my poetry through createspace... :D

Part of this project is an experiment in manuscript formatting for print.  Granted, I'm not actually planning to use Createspace's services for Magpie Eclectic Press books -- I have another printer in mind for that, and I'm very excited about it all! (Seriously, these guys are awesome!)  But I figured that Createspace would be a quick and simple way for me to test my formatting skills for a paperback book... I would need to do it sooner or later anyway.  Which leads me in to the second reason I have for going through with this...  I have a sincere desire to have my poems compiled someplace other than bits and scraps of paper strewn all across my room.  Notebooks are nice enough, but not when they are falling apart, and not when you have two or three (or more) poems in each one.  Then it just gets confusing.  And besides, I have family members I would love to give copies too. :D My uncle Jesse and aunt Geinnie for one, and my aunt Phyllis, and aunt Ruth and uncle Robert. They are my mom's mom's (my grandma's) siblings and live in Northern Indiana, so I don't get to see them a lot (though they are all awesome!)  And a lot of my dad's family live up there too.  :D

But here's the deal; truth be told, I never thought I would actually go through with it. The poems in this book were never really meant to be seen.  I mean, I think they are good enough to be seen (well, I did write them, so of course I would think that!) But truly... they were just bits and pieces of creative overflow leaked onto paper and stashed in an old file cabinet... and desk drawer, and book case, and anywhere else I saw fit to stash them. :P  

However, NOW all that's changed.  NOW the compilation will be available on Amazon for kindle and in paperback... just in case anyone else is interested, ya know. ^_^ It's not ready to order yet; I still have to pour over the proof copy and double check for errors. But hopefully it will be ready soon!

And I'm still trying to get used to the thought.  *draws in deep breath*

Now, this project is a bit different than other projects I've taken on and other books I've worked with.  When I self published "Blue Moon", it was only in ebook formats.  With "Blue Moon", anyone could download the story straight to their digital reader in no time flat.  Plus, "Blue Moon" wasn't really long enough to be put into print format...  But with this book, it's actually going to be physical... sitting in my hands.  Working with the books for Magpie is different too; sure I'm excited about them, and yes they are amazing!  But for the most part, they aren't my own writing... this is completely different.  And even though it's poetry and not a novel, or even an anthology of short stories, this thought is intriguing to me... that I will be able to hold it in my hands and read it like I would one of my favorite poet's books...

This book is called "Remembering Innocence". And here is a little bit about it:

(from the back cover):  

I’m writing this to help you understand exactly what it is this collection of poems represents, both to me and of me...  

It wasn’t until I started college in 09 that I began to understand just how blind I was to the darkness that permeates the world. Oh, there are still wonderful and amazing places and people and events all around this great blue sphere that the human race calls home, but there is also sadness and pain, darkness and regret, hurt and lies, etc… Now that I see all of that, I simply can’t unsee it… the images and the realization of what the world truly is has now been ingrained in my personality, and to some degree I feel as if my true, pure innocence has been lost. My naivety has been swept back, like the white veil that hides a bride’s face, and I am forced to view the world for what it really is. 

There is some pain I’ve felt at the realization of this loss. Nothing devastating, of course, but sometimes it feels like there is an empty void in my chest where my innocence once held residence. Now in my early adult years, these poems are reminders of that lost part of me, sweet memories and thoughts transcribed in notebooks years ago when a fit of inspiration took me by surprise and wrought wonders on blank paper. My childhood innocence forged these memories, and now they remind me that the world can still be beautiful..."

And yeah, that pretty much sums it up.  That's what these poems are to me... little pieces of innocence from my past that have been preserved, even though my life has changed so much and become something more.  My naivety -- my childhood -- is poured into this compilation.  It's all there... and I'll soon be able to hold all of it in one place with my own two hands!!! :D  The excitement mounds!!! ^_^      

Some Poems from my Life

Hello bloggy friends. :)  I've been in a rather random mood lately, and the result has been that I've not been updating as much as I would like to, mostly because I feel that a blog post probably should have something meaningful or purposeful in it.  But today I've decided to take advantage of this random mood and do something I've been meaning to do for a couple months now, simply because I can: I've decided to post some random poetry that I've written throughout my life.  Perhaps I'll make a series of this; who knows. :)

This first one was written when I was 17.  This is actually a song.  I thought it would make a good walking or traveling song.  Perhaps I'll use it one day in my book sometime.)

Throw Me Out and Let Me Go

Throw me out upon the breezes

Let me fly, let me fly

Let me touch the rays of morning in the sky

Let me spread my wings and soar

Up in the sky forever more

Throw me out upon the breeze and let me go

Throw me up upon a horse and

Let me ride, let me ride

Let me take all my adventures in one stride

With a sword girthed at my waist

Let me hold a steady pace

Throw me up upon a horse and let me go

Throw me out unto the river

Let me sail, let me sail

May the breezes always hold a steady gale

To fill the canvas of my craft

And take me down the river’s track

Throw me out unto the river; let me go

Give me one last kiss for parting

Let me leave, let me leave

For if I could not go roaming I would grieve

Adventure’s calling in my wake

And my free heart it’s bound to take

So kiss me once but then I beg you, let me go.

***

This next one was again written when I was 17.  It's the story of the Matchstick girl, for those of you who have at least heard of the story.  It's rather sad though, but it's still one of my favorites.  I seem to have had a thing for poetry at 17. :)

Ode to the Story of the Matchstick Girl

(young matchstick girl):

When winter’s cold surrounds me in the dark of night

And my eyes are closed to all the frosted stars

I feel not winter’s presence nor his frosted breath

For long gone is my mind and though it’s cold, I’m warm

For I see not the icy limbs of frozen trees

Nor ponds of glass, the water powdered with the snow,

But to the golden summers past.  My eyes have turned

From fields of figured glass to glades of greening growth

I feel not the unseen hand of winter’s grip

Come stealthily through my clothes and grip my heart

For I am numb from cold, though warm with summers thought

And feel not when the soul and body part

(man walking by):

A lonely figure on the icy streets of town

A young girl rapped in rags with eyes now ever shut

Yet now she looks so happy in that frozen place

A gentle smile now permanently on her face

What thoughts she had in her last hour to make her smile

Now lie with her and never shall be known

They, her last comfort held upon the brink of death

Had etched a smile upon the lips turned blue with cold

Her innocence, now tattered shreds of memory past

Her lonely figure, peaceful but forlorn

She laid untended in the icy streets of town

For no one living knew, and no one mourned.

***

Well what do you know?  A poem from when I was 16. :)  That's the year I started writing Eldrei. lol!  It's fun to look back.

News From the Four Winds

(Sunrise)

I’ve heard the four winds calling

Softly come they to my ears

And I’ve asked them for news

As I stay lonely standing here

What news from you, oh West Wind

As  you travel far abroad?

What on your journeys have you learned

While racing sky unshod?

“I have seen the sun go setting

And the silver moon go down;

I’ve watched as all the rivers raced

Beside me on the ground

And I have seen no changes–

Only night and evening’s face.

In past live I beneath a sky

Of time and endless space”

Then will my head turn southward

And the South Wind will I ask!

What news from you, oh South Wind

Do you gather as you pass?

“I fear there’s nothing newer

Than what you before were told

The sky is getting dimmer

And dark shadows yet unfold

No news have I to tell you

O great deeds done in my way…”

Then I shall ask the North Wind

What he’s seen by light of day

Oh North Wind, Mighty North Wind

Tell me what it is you’ve seen.

The south and West have told me naught

With nothing new between.

“Well, I have seen stone fallen

And have watched trees grow old with age

But nothing new have I to tell

Though I be an ancient sage

But if it is the new you seek

Turn east then, my advice is

For she is young, the wind that way

Her news you’ll find suffices”

Oh East Wind, merry East Wind

North Wind says you hold the key

For news is what I’m seeking

And no old will do for me.

I’m searching for a story

What is it you have to tell?

And then I heard the East Wind

And her voice like silver fell.

“Oh I have news for singing

And not old is it, but new

For I have learned from West Wind

That no other kind will do.

So now this news I’ll show you:

It is better in display.

Look to the east, my friend,

And you will see the light of day!”

And so my eyes turned eastward

And no whisper could I find

To describe the lacey patterns

Of this intricate design.

Now stared my eyes in wonder

At the rose and golden hues

And I new that I had finally found

My little piece of news.

***

Another from when I was 16.  I liked poems that discribed nature or that told stories about children playing.  I was (and still am) especially fond of Robert Louis Stevenson's "A Child's Garden of Verses".

Dance of the Heavens

It is time the sun sets on the kingdom of earth;

See her silently fold down her bed,

Pulling back quilts made of grass laden sod

And then tucking them under her head.

As she pulls in the last golden locks of her hair

And her gown slips back under the hills,

The Moon and his daughters slip into the night

For a ball decked with silvery frills.

They wear gowns made of silver and silver hair bows

And their shoes are of silver as well,

And their father is dressed in his best silver suite

With glass buttons and one crystal bell.

The Moon has a fiddle all shiny and bright

That he plays with a crystal-glass bow

And he saws on the strings ‘til they all start to sing;

Now up high and now purring down low.

The Star Daughters curtsy and then they all twirl

In a dance for the heavens to see,

All their lights bright reflecting in each little pool

Quite completing the fantastic scene.

But just as the dancers’ excitement is full

And the dance gets more wild to behold,

The first wondrous rays of the morning break through

In the east, turning silver to gold

As the sun pulls her covers back off of her face

And shakes out the gold locks of her hair,

Spreading warmth and bright light over hilltops and trees

And renewing the chilled evening’s air.

The Stars start to fade and their dresses go dim

While the Moon hides away in the hills

Leaving all to the sun who is having much fun

Warming each child’s windowsill.

***

Last one for tonight. :)  I like this one because I wrote it while I was thinking of the play times that my siblings and I had when we were younger.  I was once again 17 when I wrote this one.  It seems that since I've grown older, I've not written nearly as many poems. *sigh*

Bed Sheet Sails at Dinner Time

(Boy:)

O mama, mama where’s the sail?

It’s time to chart my route!

But now I found my bed is stripped:

No sheets to sail me out!

(Mother:)

I’m sorry Hun, the sail is gone;

It’d been through muck and mire

So I washed it with the laundry pile

And threw it in the dryer.

(Boy:)

Oh mama, mama where’s my ship?

It must have blown to sea!

The current caught it by the dock

And sailed it without me!

(Mother:)

Umm… Honey, try the kitchen;

I think you’ll find the answer there

For when I was making dinner, well…

I needed bad a chair.

(Boy:)

Oh mama, mama!  I need food!

My ship is at the dock.

I need plenty of provisions,

My ship’s larder for to stock.

(Mother:)

Now I can help you there, my dear

When ere you’re surly able

Come sail that chair up to my dock;

Your dinners on the table!

And there you go.  That's all for tonight; a small peak into my (slightly) younger years.  Hope you enjoyed it. :D

For those Horse-Lovers out there :D

Going through my old documents the other day, I came across a poem that I wrote years ago and then forgot about.  I wrote it when I was 16, so that was ages ago considering that I'll turn 22 on Sunday.  But 16 was a very, very special year.  It wasn't the year that I got my driver's liscence, oh no!  I didn't do that until I was 18.  But it was about a week after my 16th birthday that I started writing the RD for "Eldrei".  Yes, it's been that long!  And I'm happy to say that Eldrei's rewrite is going extremely well.  :)

So anyway, I've written well over a hundred poems in my short life, mostly because of the fact that I didn't try to write a novel until I was 16.   I completely forgot I had written this poem, but finding it in my old documents and dusting it off, here is a poem for you Horse-Lovers out there.  :D

"Still Run the Phantom Horses"

By Nichole White


Can you  hear them beating on the wind?
The hooves of those long gone...
When once they tramped the ground with pride
Ran neck to neck, and side by side
And carried swiftly on
The Spirit of the Wilderness.
But now that they are gone,
How dimly to our eyes yet see
The portrait of what used to be.


When once they roamed the land all free
And under no man's rule -
No whip to break and scourge their backs;
No reins to keep thier feet on track,
And they were no one's tool -
They roamed the land all fair and free
Away from masters cruel,
Or wise and kind...
They ran upon their own design.


But long now have they faded off,
And yet there is running still
The heirs to all the western lands
Away from weather-beaten hands
And farther from the till,
Or leather straps that strain and hold.
There, running with them still,
Thier sires of old to keep their courses:
Still run the Phantom Horses.

Wish Me Luck... *Crosses Fingers*

Before anyone asks: no, I have not found an agent yet to represent Song of the Daystar.  Still working on that.  But that is not what this post is about.

This post is about a couple of other stories I have written... Short stories, no longer than 4k.  And two poems.

Now, some of you may already be members at writersdigest.com and some may not.  Some of you may get the magazine and some may not.  But for those of you who don't already know this, Writers' Digest is hosting a competition for Short stories and poetry, with the grand prize being $3,000 and a trip to NYC to meet with editors and agents.  All submissions are due May 14 or else an extra $5 must be payed per entry.

I have just entered two of my short stories and two poems.

That's a lot of money, I know, ($60 all told) but God has been kind to me recently and has granted me the entrance fee.  I have edited like crazy: I've revised: I've worried.  Now all I can do is cross my fingers and pray.  And maybe worry some more.  Contest winners won't be notified until October.

Wish me luck everyone!!!  :)

And here's one of the poems to help pass the time.


The Rose Minstrel
By: Nichole White

How beautiful the rose at eve
As, delicate, its petals furl
How effortless I could believe
The rose to be a minstrel girl


For look unto her skirts of fire,
Of crimson edged in fairy-gold;
A beauteous flame of love’s desire
But wild, whose mysteries lie untold


How sweet her voice on breezes carried,
Whispered songs of secrets held
In my heart her whispers tarry;
Twined in thorns, my heart is spelled


On her beauty let me linger,
But I’m cheated by her shows
For my pretty minstrel singer
Ends up simply but a rose.