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The Plain of Valiance by Vanessa Caraveo

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The Plain of Valiance by Vanessa Caraveo

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The Plain of Valiance

Deep in the two-mile wide plain

Covered in green saw grass,

Mesquite thickets and thorny plants

Exists an abundant timeless history

Hidden beyond the vast cactus

That flourishes

And continues to live on

For more than 170 years

Which tells of an unforgettable battle

Just north of present-day

Brownsville, Texas

That demonstrated patriotism

Agility

And Valiance.

Two of today’s greatest

Neighboring countries

The USA and Mexico

Went to battle

With two extraordinary heroic generals

At the forefront

General Taylor for the U.S.

And General Mariano Arista for Mexico

And their fearless armies

Prepared for major battle

That unforgettable historic day

May 8th 1846

The Battle of Palo Alto.

A cannon fires

To signify the time has come

For each side to display

What they are all made of

They lunge forward to attack

Leaving their hearts and souls

Upon the unforgiving and boundless plain.

9 casualties for the U.S.

102 casualties for Mexico’s forces

Mexico withdraws

And the fallen soldiers

Who fought till their death are buried

In the land that continues to hold the history

Of an epic battle between two titans

And embraces the many brave souls who gave their lives

That historic day in May upon

The plain of valiance.

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We invited folks to write poems ...

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Write Out Small Poetry Book Instructions: Grab a Slide -- Write a small poem* -- Share a picture (upload or search) * A small poem might be a haiku or couplet or a short free verse

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A bird chorus has commenced, and the sweet sound of chirping fills the valley as the swift breeze conducts. The birds cease their song as the wind takes center stage and sweeps magnificently around their song. They all pause and wait considerately as children’s voices halt the gentle symphony below the mountain.

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One Storm, Two Stories by Janice Workman

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One Storm, Two Stories by Janice Workman

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Charles:

Charles stood with his back to the door of his cabin, watching lightning tear across the sky miles away.  Thunder quickly followed, growing to an intensity that echoed in his head.  Time slipped sideways and once again he was on the battlefield 8 years ago.

He followed his father in 1846 to fight for land called Texas in a place called Palo Alto “It is time for me to be a man”, he declared to his father, “After all, I am 15 and can handle a horse and gun as well as anyone my age.”  True enough, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of war.

Lightning flashes and thunder crashes became cannons firing followed by explosions of artillery.  Howling wind shook the tall trees around his little farm and brought back the sound of troops pushing through dense brush and scrub, hunting for the Mexican soldiers that could be hiding anywhere.  A tree exploded under a lightning bolt and he jumped to run to his father’s side, as the detonation took him back to the cannonball that felled both his father and horse.

Scenes flashed through Charles’ mind:  pulling the stretcher with his father on it to the tent where so many injured men were.  The bawling of his storm spooked cattle sounded like the screams and moans of those men, waiting …waiting… as they bled, fainted, cried, died in that tent of healing and horror.  A large branch splintered from the mesquite near his barn…”No, no…I don’t want to remember…”, he sobbed, covering his face, only to see the scene unfold again.  He and another man had held his father as Dr John Porter evaluated the damage and started the necessary surgery.  “Here,” said the Dr’s assistant, handing Charles a bullet. “Put it between your father’s teeth so he can bite on it while the Dr works.” Charles turned his head away as the bone saw sliced through his father’s left leg near the thigh.  With a sharp  ‘crack’, it dropped to the floor.  With a stench like no other, flesh was cauterized and rags tied tight over the limb.  With his father unconscious, he stayed close as the surgeon then removed the other leg below the knee…overwhelming infection took him two days later.   “Oh father,” Charles sighed, wiping his wet face with his sleeve, as the present day storm raged on.

“Daddy”, whispered a child’s voice behind him.  “Daddy, why are you crying?  Don’t be ‘fraid of the storm.  I’m here.”  Charles turned and gathered his 4 year old daughter into his arms.  “My little one,” Charles murmured into her hair.  “Your momma sure was right when she named you, Hope.”  Turning to look across the field once more he said, ”I was just thinking about your grandpa and a different storm.  Let’s go back to bed and look forward to sunshine tomorrow.”

Esperanza:

Esperanza rose from her pallet to stare out the window as the sound of rain pounded  the roof.  A storm moved across the Rio Grande river into Mexico, bringing with it lightning and thunder.  “I remember the sounds, ” she said, sliding a hand to her forehead.  “How could I ever forget?”  Just then the late night watch clattered down the street, horse hoofs echoing back 8 years to Matamoros when cavalry from US and Mexico collided in a war over land.

“At least I could be here for Carlos,” she sighed, placing her hand briefly over her heart, then making the sign of the cross, “May he rest in peace.” She whispered.  “We did have five wonderful years together before it all started.”

“I did not believe the stories he told of flying cannon balls that turned into musket balls.” She spoke to the wind, as it whirled over the house.  “Then, I saw it myself.  From over a field away they could fire those big guns.  Little cannon balls flew toward our soldiers and turned into fire from the sky.  So many died and even more were hurt.”.  She turned away from the storm to light a lantern and wipe her eyes.  “His friends brought him to the house, but had to return to fight.  I tended him as best as I could.  Finally I fetched a Dr from the hospital.  He applied poultices and powders. Showed me what to do, but I could see the sorrow in Dr Santiago’s face.  Carlos got hotter and hotter.  He kept calling out for me although I was always by his side.  Belladonna helped at first, but even that stopped working.”  She wandered back to the window with a cup of manzanilla tea warming her hands and calming her heart.  “I told him about the baby.  He smiled and whispered ‘Carlito’.”  Esperanza dabbed her eyes and smiled, “I wonder how he knew?”

Little Carlito padded across the floor to his mother. “Mamma?” He looked up at her, tugging her hand to bring her attention to him.  “What is the matter, mamma?  Are you afraid of the storm?  I am here, I am brave!” he smiled up at her.  She held his chubby little hand gently in hers and remembered doing the same with Carlos while the priest gave him last rights as he took his last breaths.  “Yes, mi amor (my love), you are brave.”  As the storm waned,  she led him to the pallet where they snuggled down to sleep. “Tomorrow we are sure to have sunshine.”

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He marches with strong conviction

Through the wide open plain

Surrounded by

Dense thickets of mesquite

Cactus

And razor-sharp cordgrass

That sweltering 8th day of May in 1846

A Mexican-American war

Forever inscribed in history.

¡Atención!

The Mexican soldiers assume position

Ready for command

General Mariano Arista strategically

Positions his cavalry

And artillery units

All ready for battle

His soldiers sharing that same

Unyielding valiance

And patriotism

Hasta la muerte.

They knew General Zach Taylor

And his army

Indeed,

Were not a force to be reckoned with

Superior artillery which served as

A dominant asset for them

And Taylor and his army

Would put up an unforgettable battle

Against those they saw as invaders

For their efforts to besiege Fort Texas.

Two heroic commanders

Arista and Taylor

And their exceptional armies

Unforgettable roles in the Battle of Palo Alto

The Mexican cannon fires

Signaling the historical battle has begun

The Mexican solider somberly looks straight ahead

At the combative vast plain that now awaits him

He kneels on one knee before lunging forward

To solemnly make perhaps his last prayer

Pleading with faithfulness and heart

Protégenos Virgencita.

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The fire met upon the land
on ground where fought the righteous man.
And for his country, honor waged;
unbridled war unlikely staged
by those who sought without regret
a conquered land in which no debt
would be incurred and all forgiven;
such was the force that kept them driven.
For this their land could not be bought,
The promise as each soldier fought;
Though paid in full with blood of men,
T'was not enough to bring an end;
And so the cannon wheel did pass
across the blades of corded grass;
Determined aim, disparate foes,
deep in their souls, the hate arose. One battle fought, but more would be,
as war raged on historically.
The Palo Alto Battle cries
did fade beneath the valley skies
and too, the sounds of trigger clicks,
In May of 1846.

~ Irene Salinas Caballero

10/18/2019

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A turbulent battlefield, silent, remains,

Long gone the tones and the incessant refrains

Of war's bitter melody sung through the air

By great cannons' voices of woeful despair.

Where two armies battled each other, the cries

Of war are no more and a structure must rise;

A tall, stone-like monument honoring all

Who, fated, had been, into Glory, to fall.

That once war-torn ground, now, in honor, must stand

In tribute to the freedom of a great land,

Yet, though it be silent today, one might find

The images of war within one's own mind.

The echoes of battle erupt with the wind;

Mere phantoms of that skirmish whose time would end,

But present like ghosts that would haunt that vast ground

Where souls of those fallen, perhaps, could be found.

Remains silent, now, that great battlefield there;

A historic, rich landmark for all to share

Of that battle between two armies who sought,

Each one, to uphold a cause for which it fought.

Frank Cortazo                                                                           Copyright (c) Frank Cortazo Tuesday, September 22, 2019

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Live & Learn Early Learning Center's Family Nature Club prowled for owls and stopped to jot.

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A Prowl for Owls and Writing in the Woods

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A Prowl for Owls and Writing in the Woods

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Live & Learn Early Learning Center's Family Nature Club met to prowl for owls and stop and jot. After listening for hoots in the woods, we were inspired to sketch, write poetry, and share how our time in the woods made folks feel.

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Part of a month-long drawing adventure in sixth grade