Monday, 19 February 2024

TWO SISTERS by Joanne Boyle




"TWO SISTERS"
by Joanne Boyle

 Two Sisters played together, passing stars down from the sky. Like a game of pass the parcel, were the same rules do apply.

Each star was wrapped in memories,
Five to be precise,
and no matter which way it turned,
the memory was always nice.
The Sisters hadn't aged at all,
though some would say one did,
but in the dreams they played in,
getting older was forbid.
They would meet in the same memory.
Laugh at times gone by.
Share tales from childhood years,
play catch, from earth to sky.
Sometimes they would sit and talk,
until night turned back to day,
but they would awake to find,
the star was there to stay.
******
Joanne Boyle

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THE PROPOSAL


"THE PROPOSAL"
(author unknown)

Your grandfather proposed to me with a piece of candy. We had nothing, he knelt down and told me: I have nothing now, just a piece of candy, but if you want we can build everything together.
And you? I opened the candy, divided it in two and we ate it. From that moment we divided and shared everything. We fell, we got up and we build.
All together. We have experienced difficult moments, tiredness, but we have always been there for each other. Until the last breath.
Other times, Grandma.
Time does not change the way of loving.
What has changed is that you no longer have beautiful examples to follow.
Now they are afraid of everything. They do not marry for fear of not being able to build. As soon as they fight, they leave because then they think they are going to find a better one. They always look for perfection, as if it existed.
They miss the perception of reality. Of happiness in the little things.
They do this big demo, thousand-dollar rings, over-the-top video for marriage proposals, and then they miss the moment. That intimate thing that you keep in two, only in two for a lifetime.
This is what they lack. The courage to live life and love for what they are and not for how they imagine it.
With a candy, love and courage, you have for a life together.

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THE CAFE by Joanne Boyle


"THE CAFE"
by Joanne Boyle

She sat there in her nightdress,
at the cafe down the street.
A blanket around her shoulders,
the same day on repeat.
They knew just where to find her,
every time that she was lost.
The assistant served her tea,
regardless of the cost.
Her children stood and watched,
but they let her eat her bun,
as she reminisced about her life,
and her days of fun.
In her mind she was still twenty,
at least she was today.
But dementia has the power,
to take our moments away.
Mary never forgot the cafe,
where she had met her true sweetheart
the father of her children,
that she forgot at each days start.
Her sweetheart long gone now,
but not in Mary's mind,
she went back to the places,
in the hope for him she'd find.
Her children were so caring,
and approached their mum with care,
they asked if she minded,
if they sat upon the chair.
Mary shook her head.
Her thoughts had now moved on,
the couple looked familiar,
but where had her sweetheart gone?
She then looked at her Son,
and when he asked to take her home.
She looked at him and smiled,
and knew she was not alone.
******
Joanne Boyle

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Sunday, 18 February 2024

KINDNESS by Becky Hemsley


"KINDNESS"
by Becky Hemsley

“But it made you strong!”
How often we are tempted to say this to someone when they’ve been through a difficult time.
And it may well be the case.
But chances are that they are feeling anything but strong. They are likely feeling
exhausted
shattered
weak.
And they need someone who recognises that. Someone who - for just a while - can be the strong one for them. Can offer them a shoulder to cry on and an arm to support them.
Yes, when they feel like that, they need to rest.
They need to recharge, recoup and regain the strength they’re being told they have inside of them.
Because what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. But it sometimes very nearly kills us -
exhausts us
shatters us
weakens us.
They didn’t want to have to be strong.
They wanted life to be kinder.
And as it wasn’t, it might help them more than we realise
If we bring the kindness instead.
******
Becky Hemsley 2023
Artwork by the talented Kaethe Butcher Illustrations
‘Kindness’ is from 'Letters from Life' https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHL9MZC1...

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PLEASE STOP by Becky Hemsley 2024


"PLEASE STOP"
by Becky Hemsley 2024

Please stop saying sorry…
For the way your hair looks when you take off your hat
For the way your body looks in that outfit
And for the way you use your hands a lot when you talk
Stop apologising…
For the way your teeth show when you smile
And for the noise you make when you laugh
Stop saying sorry…
For not wearing make-up today
For your chipped nail polish
For wearing your favourite sweater again
Stop apologising for things that, to others,
are beautiful and endearing and charming.
Stop making them doubt something when they know it to be true; because they see it and hear it and feel it.
Please stop hating on the things they love most about you and stop undermining their opinion of you.
Stop making them second guess your beauty.
But most of all…
Please stop second guessing it yourself.
******
Becky Hemsley 2024
Gorgeous artwork by Snehal Pendurkar (@paintingbysnehal on Instagram)
This is a newer poem but if you like it, you might like others from my book ‘Letters from Life’ https://amzn.eu/d/ad7j2bV
(this is the UK link but if you search in Amazon, it should be available worldwide)

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Saturday, 17 February 2024

IN REST THEY REMEMBER by Donna Ashworth


"IN REST THEY REMEMBER" by Donna Ashworth
Some people are slowly taken,
to the other realm.
Not physically, but mentally.
Memory by memory,
they are moved from us,
like a painstakingly slow house-move.
Boxes full of life,
chapters, people, loves.
All packed into a van,
to wait their arrival on the other side
And as these parts are removed,
those left feel lonelier daily.
As though their love is already leaving them.
It is a painful departure, my friends,
this much is sadly true.
But I like to think of the person we knew,
reaching the other side,
finally,
once more whole.
And upon arrival they see their boxes,
awaiting them so long,
and they open them up,
the chapters, the memories, the loves,
and reunite with them again.
I can feel that heartfelt joy
and it brings me joy too.
They are not lost for long,
though it may feel so.
In rest,
they remember it all.

******
Donna Ashworth
Art by the astounding Lisa Aisato, from her book ‘all the colours of life’

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THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD by Tahlia Hunter


"THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD"
by Tahlia Hunter

My dear, the voice in your head,
that is not truly you.
You mistake it for being you,
but that voice is a collection of all of the beliefs, opinions and messages
that you have ever heard
from the outside world,
that your mind has received
and is narrating back to you.
The 'you' that you are
is the one who is aware of these thoughts:
the observer of the thoughts.
The voice that tells you
that you aren't good enough,
that you aren't pretty enough,
or that you aren't successful enough
only comes from the voices of other minds
that have been told those things,
that they have then told you.
None of this has to become your story
or be true for you.
This is why a young child often sees the world as a beautiful and magical place and believes themselves to be capable of anything, because they have not yet heard the voices telling them to believe otherwise. And those voices have not yet become the voice in their head that they have learned to mistake for being themselves.
This is the true path to peace:
remembering that you are not your thoughts
and learning to silence the mind
and not mistake it for being you.
Words by Tahlia Hunter

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AND WHEN THEY LEAVE by Tahlia Hunter


"AND WHEN THEY LEAVE"
by Tahlia Hunter

"I cannot control whether or not another person chooses to stay or leave. I can only control how I choose to show up each day and work towards becoming the best version of myself. And so I trust that this person is entering my life for the reason they are meant to at this time and I will treasure their company and let this connection unfold in the way that it is meant to, whether it lasts for a day, a month or a lifetime.
And it matters not whether they leave, as I have learned to love my own company and not need another and I will never leave myself. For this is the foundation for all positive relationships.
And if I truly love another person, then I will want what is best for them, and if that is for them to not be with me, then I will let them go with love, knowing that if they are ever meant to return, they will, and if not, them leaving makes space for those who are still meant to come.
And if I ever find myself missing them, I will remind myself that what I love and admire most in them also exists within me and I can be that for myself now. And every positive emotion I experienced in their presence, I created within myself and can experience just as strongly in their absence.
And when they leave, it is not a reflection of my worth,
it is simply that our paths are no longer aligned
as we are travelling in different directions.
And if I feel that they failed to truly see me or appreciate me,
I will never take their actions personally
and remind myself
that it wasn't that they didn't love me,
but they loved me
from the level from which they could love."
Words by Tahlia Hunter

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Friday, 16 February 2024

MY MAN by Jenn Kish


"MY MAN"
by Jenn Kish

I looked up from the dryer and noticed my man in the kitchen. I was switching over the 200th load of the day. I noticed him chopping onions and peppers preparing dinner for the next day. His boots still sit by the hall, fresh from a long week of work. He cuts and dices, I fold and sort. Together, we keep the house moving.
I stared at the back of his head for a while, the laundry still wet in my hands. I thought about how sometimes he cooks and I cut grass. Sometimes he gets up with the kids and I sleep.
Sometimes I drive and he rides. Sometimes I work and he rests. I dont think there is a way to evenly divide the work load- I just know when it gets too heavy for me, my man always jumps in.
And that’s all that really matters isn’t it? There’s no reason to keep count or record of chores.
Tonight, he cooks while I fold. And the load in my hands feels a little bit lighter.

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"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT"

"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT" (author unknown) Is there anything less festive than the Christmas markets? Thousands of piss...