Prairie Days Poetry

Home Welcome Bears Big Horn Sheep Bison/Buffalo Eagles Elk Great Blue Herons Horses Moose Mountain Lions Rainbow Trout Welcome to Paradise Wild Flowers Wolves Kokopelli Kokopelli Welcome Kokopelli Personified More Kokopelli Kokopelli Encore Who is Kokopelli ? Who is KokoMana? Kokopelli Mana KokoMana Dances Digital Birds Digital Blossoms Digital Butterflies Digital Columbia Lake & River Digital Landscapes Digital Orbs Digital Paddles Digital Rainbows Digital Saskatchewan Digital Sunsets Digital Wildlife Montana Sings Poetry Corner Poetry of Love Prairie Days Poetry About The Artist Public Relations Orders, Enquiries & Comments














Prairie Days Poetry

 A compilation of Poetry written in my teen years, ages 15 and 16,
while growing up on a farm on The Prairies, 
West of Rockglen, Saskatchewan, Canada. 



When I am dead and gone friend
And you are here and fine
Will you love those things friend
That I cherished dearly as mine

And will you love the breeze friend
And will you love the flowers
The ones that I am loving now
And dream of at all hours

And when I have left this life friend
And can no longer see
Those things that I loved friend
Will you love them for me

 Elaine Sell
                                                                                   Age 15




Is included in a classic heirloom-quality coffee-table hardbound collection of  selected poems by different writers. 

"Natures Echoes"
(Library of Congress ISBN-1-58235-564-9)
 2001 Publication


The shimmering white

The blinding light

Of the snow I rush upon

Touching slightly

Ever so lightly

Skiing on and on.......

 Elaine Sell


It's damp, it's dismal, it's gray as dawn
And the sun is hid and the sky is drawn
When it's raining.

The sky is a dark, drab, cold, colorless gray
And the east wind blows on this August day
For it's raining.

The half stooked bundles lay heavy and wet
On the prairies. 
  The  rust is bad and the farmer does fret
When it is raining.

The bold, grassy prairie looks cold and bare
Under the dark clouds suspended up there
Full of rain.

You stay inside, everyone does.
It's not fit out for man or beast.
All you can do is take it
When it's raining.

Elaine Sell
 August 1954
 Age 15

Previously Unpublished!


You feel so calm, so serious, peaceful and lone
You feel like a fisherman away from home
Without any reward for a day's well done
Of fishing, of praying beneath the great hot sun.
That's solitude, or is it? 

You're not alone in this place of greatness
Where the diamond willows hover o'er you
So peaceful, so great, under the bluest sky
You've an unseen guest, who is standing by
Watching, waiting - but why just why?

Elaine Sell
August 19, 1954
Age 15


When the tide is rough and the wind is wild
Hang on!   Hang on!
When the clouds are black and the foam is riled
Hang on!  Hang on!

What if your boat is filling fast
And this gasp of air may be your last
Hang on!  Hang on!

What if  your  meager hopes have passed 
With that last sepulchral thunder blast
Hang on!  Hang on!

It's rough, it's tough, the water's deep
And you long to get a moment's sleep
But hang on!  Hang on!

Though it seems this storm will ever stay
There's a dawn ahead, not far away
Hang on!  Hang on!

You've life, there's hope, don't dive and drown
Look! The sun's rays come shining down
So hang on!  Hang on!

Elaine Sell
 March 15,1955
Age 16

Previously Unpublished!


The quiet beauty of the autumn days
The babbling brooks that run in the spring
The whispering of an evening breeze
Is not an uncommon thing,
But to some these things are unnoticed yet
And to some they never will be
And though some are just discovering them
They're alive and lovely to me. 

Elaine Sell
April 1955
Age 16


This eve as the goddess of dusk was drawing her cloak o'er us
And the stars were beginning to sprinkle that dark ol' sky 
Two fleet-footed dear bounded lightly o'er the pasture fence
Their silhouettes like pitch against that purple immense
Their necks arched so proudly, their heads held so high
That it made me wonder and ask from where
Did they come upon such a placid air
When for years they've been hunted, shot and eaten with greed
By those who consider their slaughter a noble deed.
If only man could be like they; live for today and not tomorrow
If we could laugh in the face of hate, pride, greed and omit all sorrow
We'd then be like those deer with their free way of living
Free from the bondage we, to ourselves, are giving.

                               Elaine Sell
 April 23, 1955
Age 16



Back Home Next




The Home of Modern Day
 Petroglyphs  &  Pictographs

Art, Poetry & Photography Copyright Elaine Sell Prefontaine
 Website Created & Maintained by Elaine Sell Prefontaine
  All Rights Reserved.

"Art purely created, and nakedly witnessed, frees the soul"