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In Vilna lives a young Polish girl, so wealthy and carefree Suddenly, away goes she and her family Taken by force, pushed into a truck Belongings stuffed into a trunk A train awaits as they file in The door closes and the light is dim The young girl asks, "Where are we going?" Her father replies, "Only the Russian soldiers are knowing." Weeks fly by on the railroad Ever so slowly the train goes The prisoners alike arrive at a town Once again pushed into trucks and carted around The girl and her family arrive at a mining camp The grandmother says repulsively, "We look like tramps." "The land is so flat!" The girl remarks "We're in Siberia...." The father says with a heavy heart Silk clothes soiled and heads hung low Into makeshift mud houses, the capitalists go The landscape, nothing but brown and dried grass The young girl thinks, "how long will this heat last?" To the gardens, she goes To **** the hundreds of shrunken potatoes Her family is to work in the mine On little bread and cheese, they dine Finally relocated to a nearby village Everyone so hungry, none dare to pillage The girl goes to school and makes new friends She wishes hopefully that learning won't end Her family with their own mud house Having not to worry about a single mouse A letter arrives one day To war, the father must be sent away He takes the train to the front lines Everyone says their goodbyes Weeks later, the newspaper arrives Heavy casualties reported, from those same front lines They receive a letter from the father "I'm alive." It reads, "About crying, don't bother." Winter creeps in and nothing is left to keep warm The girl steals coal and wood shavings thinking, "it couldn't do any harm" Quickly the money goes by The young girl takes up knitting on the fly Her knitted sweaters earn them milk and potatoes She spends less time with her friends, though The little mud house too cold to bare They find new people to live with, no warm clothes to wear Years pass and the girl turns fifteen, not young anymore Seven years they have spent in Siberia, living like the poor Word arrives that the war is completed From Siberia, the Germans had packed up and retreated A letter comes, saying that the little family can go home They take the train and upon arrival begin to roam The streets are barren with nothing left They find their house, not spared of theft The father appears much older The weather in Siberia was much colder Than what Vilna, Poland was like The girl takes her father's hand and family alike The years of exile are done The war is over, the Allies have won
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Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC
The Endless Steppe (Oct. 11, 2016)
In Vilna lives a young Polish girl, so wealthy and carefree Suddenly, away goes she and her family Taken by force, pushed into a truck Belongings stuffed into a trunk A train awaits as they file in The door closes and the light is dim The young girl asks, "Where are we going?" Her father replies, "Only the Russian soldiers are knowing." Weeks fly by on the railroad Ever so slowly the train goes The prisoners alike arrive at a town Once again pushed into trucks and carted around The girl and her family arrive at a mining camp The grandmother says repulsively, "We look like tramps." "The land is so flat!" The girl remarks "We're in Siberia...." The father says with a heavy heart Silk clothes soiled and heads hung low Into makeshift mud houses, the capitalists go The landscape, nothing but brown and dried grass The young girl thinks, "how long will this heat last?" To the gardens, she goes To **** the hundreds of shrunken potatoes Her family is to work in the mine On little bread and cheese, they dine Finally relocated to a nearby village Everyone so hungry, none dare to pillage The girl goes to school and makes new friends She wishes hopefully that learning won't end Her family with their own mud house Having not to worry about a single mouse A letter arrives one day To war, the father must be sent away He takes the train to the front lines Everyone says their goodbyes Weeks later, the newspaper arrives Heavy casualties reported, from those same front lines They receive a letter from the father "I'm alive." It reads, "About crying, don't bother." Winter creeps in and nothing is left to keep warm The girl steals coal and wood shavings thinking, "it couldn't do any harm" Quickly the money goes by The young girl takes up knitting on the fly Her knitted sweaters earn them milk and potatoes She spends less time with her friends, though The little mud house too cold to bare They find new people to live with, no warm clothes to wear Years pass and the girl turns fifteen, not young anymore Seven years they have spent in Siberia, living like the poor Word arrives that the war is completed From Siberia, the Germans had packed up and retreated A letter comes, saying that the little family can go home They take the train and upon arrival begin to roam The streets are barren with nothing left They find their house, not spared of theft The father appears much older The weather in Siberia was much colder Than what Vilna, Poland was like The girl takes her father's hand and family alike The years of exile are done The war is over, the Allies have won
I made this poem October 11, 2016. It was for an LA book project. This is based off a book I read, The Endless Steppe. I had to write a total of 3 poems for the project. For the first one, it had to be a summary of the book. FYI, the book takes place during WW2.
CaseyAF
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23/M/Wisconsin
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC
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