Rebecca's PenThe creative works of R.E.W.

About R.E.W

I am author, artist, history buff, wishing to share these three passions of mine with anyone who cares to read this blog. The main drive between these three deep interests of mine is imagination.

History isn't just people and events in a dusty book. Writing isn't just words in a tome. Art isn't just random images in a photograph, sketch or painting. I'll give you examples of what they really are.

One of my more recent poems.  Can you guess what it is about?



Ere thrashes foaming waves on the turf

Of rocky coasts, black and weathered, with no mirth,

Whatsoever as a greeting, for that weary band

Of travelers of the eastern lands.

Their jubilance, uncontained, coaxes a yell from their awestruck lips.

No, not a treasure, a marble hall, or mammoth ships,

Could bring such awe

As did this sight—the Pacific.


This clan—a bedraggled one—hardly worth a second glance

Stood lofty on their battered canoes, which had so long been their manse.

Now glory shines from their haggard faces,

Throwing aside their burdens; quite soulful mazes.

Lust of the hungry explorer evaporates,

Like a morning mist exposed to the sun, and exonerates.

Since beheld, this watery body,

Brought forth wonder—the Pacific.


There steps forward, one man

Tall and swarthy, with a sober countenance viewing the span

His gray eyes full of haunting dreams incessantly,

Remembering the leader back abroad—those poignant words; Manifest Destiny.

Another moves forward, with haste, dashing down a word or two,

Glancing up with eyes of sapphire, to the ocean blue,

That he ponders, with a bright face, Is at last; destination.

These two men, with burning eyes view—the Pacific.

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5 Responses to Pacific

  1. Megan says:

    I know! Am I allowed to answer? 😉

  2. Kalihaliah says:


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