Friday, 15 March 2024

STICKS AND STONES by Becky Hemsley


"STICKS AND STONES"
by Becky Hemsley
Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words will cut me deep
They’ll keep on hurting long after
The breaks and bruises heal
Because the sticks will meet my skin,
The stones may hit my bones
But words will carve their way beneath
And make my soul their home
And this gives them the power
To control me and to win
‘Cause now I’ve words of worthlessness
From outside and within
See stones are thrown in anger
But our words are thrown in spite
And whilst they’re easier to pitch
They’re more difficult to fight
Because we cannot run away,
We cannot just unhear them,
Because their echoes resonate
Long after we are near them
And if we are not careful
Then those words become our voice
One that learns to shout the loudest
And to make the biggest noise
So do not be the reason
Someone hates their own reflection
Or thinks they are not worthy
Or deserving of affection
And when you pick your words
Weigh them awhile between your palms
Consider whether hurling them
Will heal or hurt or harm
Yes, sticks and stones may break a bone
But words can break a heart
And they can be the reason
Someone tears themselves apart
So if you wouldn’t break their bones
By throwing stones and sticks
It’s likely for the best
That some words do not leave your lips
******
Becky Hemsley 2022
Stunning artwork by Zara Muse
'Sticks and Stones' is from my second collection:

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Wednesday, 13 March 2024

SHE PLAYED TITH THE BUTTERFLIES by Joanne Boyle


"SHE PLAYED TITH THE BUTTERFLIES"
by Joanne Boyle

She played with the butterflies,
beside the river banks.
Her Pappa stood there watching,
his heart was full of thanks.
He thought his world was over,
when his wife had gone away,
but she left behind the greatest gift
with an important part to play.
She kept her Daddy from sinking,
into the depths of despair.
She brought magic to the moments,
as if her mum was there.
She danced around his heart beat.
She had her mother's eyes.
She asked a million questions.
Everyday was a surprise.
She brought sunshine to his days,
and laughter to his heart.
She connected heaven and earth,
so they were never apart.


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The Silver Veil by English With Mia

"The Silver Veil" by English With Mia
In a small village nestled among rolling hills, there lived a young girl named Elara. She was known for her gentle nature and kind heart, but she harboured a secret longing for adventure beyond the confines of her village.
One day, as Elara wandered through the forest on the outskirts of the village, she stumbled upon an old oak tree with gnarled branches reaching toward the sky. Beneath the tree, hidden among the tangled roots, she discovered a shimmering silver veil.
Curiosity piqued, Elara carefully lifted the veil and found herself transported to a magical realm unlike anything she had ever seen. The air hummed with energy, and the sky shimmered with hues of purple and gold.
As Elara explored the enchanted realm, she encountered creatures of myth and legend a majestic unicorn with a coat as white as snow, a wise old owl perched atop a gnarled tree branch, and a mischievous fairy flitting among the flowers.
With each encounter, Elara's heart swelled with wonder and joy. She danced with the fairy in a meadow bathed in golden light, listened to the owl's wisdom as he shared tales of the ancient forest, and rode upon the unicorn's back as they galloped through fields of wildflowers.
But as the sun began to set on the magical realm, Elara knew it was time to return home. With a heavy heart, she bid farewell to her newfound friends and returned to the old oak tree where she had first found the silver veil.
Back in her village, Elara tucked the veil safely away, cherishing the memories of her adventure in the enchanted realm. Though she knew she could never return, the experience had awakened something within her a sense of bravery and wonder that would stay with her always.
From that day forward, Elara looked upon the world with newfound eyes, finding magic in the everyday moments and adventure in the simplest of things. And though she may never again journey to the enchanted realm beyond the silver veil, she carried its spirit within her, forever grateful for the glimpse of magic it had brought into her life.

https://www.facebook.com/MiaEnglishTeacher

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THE FARMER AND THE OLD MULE


"THE FARMER AND THE OLD MULE"
(author unknown)

An old hillbilly farmer had a wife who nagged him unmercifully. From morning till night (and sometimes later), she was always complaining about something. The only time he got any relief was when he was out ploughing with his old mule. He tried to plough a lot.

One day, when he was out ploughing, his wife brought him lunch in the field. He drove the old mule into the shade, sat down on a stump, and began to eat his lunch. Immediately, his wife began haranguing him again. Complain, nag, nag; it just went on and on. All of a sudden, the old mule lashed out with both hind feet; caught her smack in the back of the head. Killed her dead on the spot. At the funeral several days later, the minister noticed something rather odd. When a woman mourner would approach the old farmer, he would listen for a minute, then nod his head in agreement; but when a man mourner approached him, he would listen for a minute, then shake his head in disagreement. This was so consistent, the minister decided to ask the old farmer about it.

So after the funeral, the minister spoke to the old farmer and asked him why he nodded his head and agreed with the women, but always shook his head and disagreed with all the men.

The old farmer said: "Well, the women would come up and say something about how nice my wife looked, or how pretty her dress was, so I'd nod my head in agreement."

"And what about the men?" the minister asked.
"They wanted to know if the mule was for sale."

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IF MY LIFE WAS A SONG by Becky Hemsley


"IF MY LIFE WAS A SONG"
by Becky Hemsley

 If my life was a song
Then I wonder who’d listen Who’d fall in love With the music I’d written?

Who’d sing my notes
At the top of their lungs?
Be moved by the melody
They had just sung?
Who’d hate the chorus -
The words on repeat?
Who’d feel my rhythm
And dance to the beat?
Who’d want to alter
My pitch and my tone?
Who’d only listen
In secret, alone?
If our lives are all songs
Then perhaps we should listen
More closely to what
Other people have written
And we’ll hear the pitch
Of their highs and their lows
The change as the music
Gets faster then slows
We’ll learn all their words
And we’ll know when to sing
And when to be quiet
And not say a thing
We’ll know all their rhymes
And repeated refrains
We’ll listen to them
And they might do the same
They might learn the lyrics
And chords to our track
And when we sing our song
Then they might sing it back
And right at the moment
They echo our words
We’ll realise just how much
We need to be heard ******
Becky Hemsley 2023
Image created with Bing
This is the first poem in my most recent collection. It sets the scene really for the 'letters from life': https://amzn.eu/d/2ejGd7n

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The Blue Butterfly


"The Blue Butterfly" (author unknown)
There was once a man whose wife died, so he lived with his two daughters, who were by nature very curious and intelligent. The girls always asked him many questions. Some he knew how to answer, others he didn't.
Their father wanted to give them the best education, so one day he sent his daughters to spend some time in the house of a wise old man.
He always knew how to answer the questions they asked.
At one point one of them brought a blue butterfly that she planned to use to deceive the sage.
- What will you do? her sister asked.
- I will hide the butterfly in my hands and I will ask the sage if it is alive or dead. If he says he's dead, I'll open my hands and let him fly. If he says he's alive, I'll squeeze him and crush him. And so any answer he will have, he will be wrong!
The two girls immediately went to the sage and found him meditating.
- I have a blue butterfly here. Tell me, sage, is he alive or dead?
Very calmly, the sage smiled and said to her:
- It depends on you, because it is in your hands!
So is our life, our present and our future. We don't have to blame anyone when something goes wrong: we are responsible for what we get or don't get.
Our life is in our hands, like the blue butterfly. It's up to us to choose what to do with it...

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NO WAITING ROOM


"NO WAITING ROOM" (author unknown"
What if you didn’t wake up tomorrow and your soul is watching down thinking of all the things you didn’t get to do yet because you were too scared, or too shy, or too worried about money. And all the things you told yourself you weren’t good enough for, swam in front of your eyes, fighting for a place in the line, beside the words you didn’t say and the joy you forgot to have.
My friend, there is absolutely no room for anything in your day, other than acceptance. You will never have enough money, or time, and you will certainly never have that perfect body the world told you you need to be happy.
And before you say it’s too late to embrace this thing we call life, no it is not. You can do it right where you are. Right this minute. Get outside, breathe, look at the trees, put your bare feet on the grass - hand on your heart to feel that pulse - and that’s it.
You’re living.
Keep that up.
Wait up for the moon sometimes or get up early to see a sunrise, just because.
Jump in the lake. Run and skip.
The things you need to feel alive are free and all around my friend.
You just have to see them.
Let in opportunity and say yes to the invitations that scare you a little, in a good way.
Say no to some of the things you force yourself to do, knowing they rinse you of your peace.
Life was never supposed to be a waiting room, it was supposed to be a hillside, with paths leading in every direction and mountains as far as the eye can see, hiding adventures and new friends behind them.
Don’t let yourself get to the end of this ride without having stopped to smell those beautiful roses.
That’s the only thing you need to fear in this life.
Everything else is all part of it.
It’s all just a messy, complicated, beautiful and terrifying part of it.
Chin up, throw your arms wide open and let it be so.

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SOMETIMES, SOMEONE by Becky Hemsley


"SOMETIMES, SOMEONE"
by Becky Hemsley

Sometimes someone’s perfect
Is another person’s flawed
Sometimes someone’s peaceful
Is another person’s bored
Sometimes someone’s freedom
Is another person’s trapped
And sometimes someone’s make-believe
Is someone else’s fact
One man’s trash, they often say
Is someone else’s treasure
And someone’s stormy forecast
Is another’s perfect weather
Sometimes someone’s scars
Can tell a very painful story
And sometimes they’re reminders
Of a celebrated glory
Because it all depends you see
On where you’re actually stood
On what you care to notice
And how far you dare to look
And there is sometimes someone
Standing just across from you
Who from the other side
Can see a very different view
Yes, all the time perspective
Will determine what we find
It’s how the number 6
Is sometimes someone’s number 9
And it is also how
You sit and count your flaws and scars
Whilst to someone just across from you
You’re perfect as you are
*****
Our own beauty and magic is often the hardest for us to see

Becky Hemsley 2024
Fabulous perspectives artwork by Menghui Huang via Behance
‘Sometimes Someone’ is a newer poem, but if you like it, you might also like my most recent collection, Letters from Life:

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THREE FREE E-BOOKS FROM OUR E-BOOK LIBRARY

IF DIAMONDS COULD TALK pdf downloadable free e-book  He makes her say "YES" bliss of capitulation
LADY WILLIAM

Three totally free e-books from our library shelves, just click on the individual images to download them, all are in pdf format and will open in any browser
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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...