THE CORNER 4 WOMEN

Tuesday 7 May 2024

WAITING BY THE WINDOW by Becky Hemsley

"WAITING BY THE WINDOW"
by Becky Hemsley

We waited nine months to meet you.

We waited to see you smile, to watch you walk, to hear you talk.

And I'm not sure you realise this but we now wait at the window every day for you to get home.

A home that is filled with all of your things, all of your noise.

But one day we will walk into your bedroom and there won't be clothes all over the floor.

There won't be snacks that you've abandoned in every room and there won't be the noise of some obscure TV show echoing through the house.

Yes, one day our nest will be empty.

Quiet.

Tidy.

You will not need us anymore like you do now.

And that will mean we have done our job.

It will mean we have succeeded

in helping you grow your wings and in teaching you to fly.

And we will enjoy the quiet and the tidiness,

knowing that this is how it is supposed to be.

But we will also miss you. We'll miss the noise and miss the mess that tells us you are here.

So I hope you'll know that you can fly back whenever you want to.

Need to. Wish to.

That you can call us and tell us to put the kettle on

and open the snacks because you'll be here soon.

Because I'm not sure you'll realise this but we'll be here,

waiting to watch you walk through the door with a smile on your face.

Waiting to talk to you about what you've been up to.

Yes, even when you've flown the nest, we will be here.

Always.

Waiting by the window

for you to get home.

******

Becky Hemsley 2023

https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild

Beautiful image by Anna Fila

'Waiting by the Window' is from my fourth collection: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHL9MZC1...

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More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

Monday 6 May 2024

STANDING WITH MY SON AGAIN by Joanne Boyle

"STANDING WITH MY SON AGAIN"
by Joanne Boyle

Philip put on his best suit

and as I straightened his tie,

I swear I saw a tear

falling from his eye.

An Angel was awaiting,

holding up my gown,

beside her was another,

polishing my crown.

We are going on a journey

to see our Son again.

A Coronation had been planned

since Charles began his reign.

A cloud awaited in the midst

of the light of eternal glow.

The Angels lined the heavens

so they could watch us go.

When we reached the cloud,

I turned and waved my hand.

The glow from eternal light

transported us to land.

We are now surrounded

by the faces of the great and good.

Gazing toward the place

where I myself once stood.

Memories from a time

when my reign began.

When Charles was only four,

but now here he stands a man.

Standing with my Son again,

a Queen beside a King.

Philip and I unseen

but felt from deep within. ********

Author Joanne Boyle Heartfelt Illustration by River Swan of Avon The Author and illustrator of the book Queen.

******

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

THE STORYTELLER by Becky Hemsley

"THE STORYTELLER"
by Becky Hemsley

The pub I was in smelt of wine and cigars

When I saw two old men who were sat by the bar

One was surrounded by laughter and cheers,

The other was sitting alone with his beers

I felt really bad for the man all alone

So I walked up and pulled up a stool of my own

And that’s when I noticed the stuff on the floor

The holdalls and trunks and suitcases galore

“What’s in them?” I asked, and he shrugged with a sigh

“Just things I thought mattered - the things I could buy.”

Then he drank up his drink and whilst shedding a tear

He smiled at me sadly and then disappeared

And nobody noticed...

'cause all he had left

Was the stuff in the boxes, the trunks and the chests

Then I looked to the group where the other man spoke

And they laughed ‘til they cried as he told them a joke

So I took myself over and stood at the back

And noticed he hadn’t got cases or sacks

But the stories he told of the oceans he’d sailed,

The countries he’d seen and the mountains he’d scaled

His stories were epic, his life had been full

Then he tapped on his glass and he said to us all

“It’s time I must go but I’ve loved growing old

And I know I’ll live on through the tales that I’ve told

Please believe when I say that to live is enough

Your life should be measured by memories not stuff.”

Then he rose from his chair and we all shed a tear

As he held up his drink to us...

then disappeared

*****

Becky Hemsley 2020

Wonderful artwork (entitled ‘The Last Sup’) by Chris McMorrow

'The Storyteller' is from my first book, Talking to the Wild https://a.co/d/egHaAyF

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

Sunday 5 May 2024

SHE STILL BREATHES FIRE by Shahida Arabi

"SHE STILL BREATHES FIRE"
by Shahida Arabi

"When Little Red Riding Hood

Defeats the wolf –

When the lamb becomes the lion –

And the prey becomes the huntress –

Everyone acts surprised.

As if they did not see her coming.

As if they did not place the salt on her wounds.

As if they did not cut her open,

open her wide –

Expect her to swallow her defeat.

They should’ve learned

A long time ago

Exactly who she was.

You saw the scars.

You saw the battle wounds.

You knew she survived them.

So tell me,

What kind of woman survives this kind of war?

Only a woman who is the war.

Who brings the war with her,

Her bare naked feet filled with soot,

Scorched earth between her toes.

They tried to pour ice into her lungs –

Tried to keep the truth buried, frozen –

Tried to keep her quiet, but they forgot –

She still breathes fire

because she was made from it.

You will ask her to bow and she will climb.

You will ask her to crawl and she will rise.

You will ask her to die and she will be reborn.

You will bury her and she will grow.

You should’ve known that

This is not a woman

Who fears the wolf.

The wolf fears her." ********

by Shahida Arabi

Lisa Aisato Artist

Via Sacred Sisters Full Moon Circle

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE

"THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE" (author unknown)

A blonde wanted to try out ice fishing. She went out and purchased all the gear she would need and headed to a local spot to try to catch some fish.

She went out onto the ice with her gear and after getting comfy on the stool, she started to cut a circular hole in the ice as she had seen on the internet. As she was cutting, she heard a voice from the heavens speak out, saying, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."

The blonde was startled. She stood up and looked around but saw no one. Cautiously, she moved a little further out onto the ice and set up in a different spot. She sipped some hot chocolate from her thermos and then started cutting another hole. Again, the voice called out, seemingly from all around her.

"THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE"

Now feeling quite scared and starting to get a bit frustrated, she moved all the way to the far end of the ice and laid out all her gear, sat upon her stool and started cutting another hole. Right away, the heavenly voice boomed out, this time louder than ever, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!".

She jumped off her stool and looked all around her. She shouted to the heavens, "IS THAT YOU, LORD?"

The voice answered, "NO. THIS IS THE MANAGER OF THE ICE SKATING RINK. THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!"

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

YOU ARE NATURE by Donna Ashworth

"YOU ARE NATURE" by Donna Ashworth

There is a reason why walking amongst nature is most people’s best advice when depression strikes.

Because walking in nature is a return to ‘home’.

You are not a lover of nature, or a fan of nature, you ‘are’ nature.

You are as much nature as the trees in your garden and the bees on your picnic.

You were designed to live your days out in the wild with your fellow creatures and plants but progress, humanity, had different plans for us all.

And so we exist day-to-day, in our homes, but never ‘home’.

The quickest route back to self, to inner peace, is bare feet on grass, arms around trees, head in the clouds and heart in a forest.

Put your bones in water, whenever you can, smell each flower you see and crumble dirt between your tired-of-typing fingers.

You are nature, go home once in a while.

It will bring you much you didn’t even know you were missing.

******** Donna Ashworth https://donnaashworth.com/books/

This poem is from my new book ‘Wild Hope’, a book of short poems designed to remind you daily… why we are, who we are and how to harness hope, joy and peace as we journey through this life.

UK: https://amzn.eu/d/2j0Nquu

US: https://a.co/d/h6FEaTv

Art by the fabulously talented Cecile Fragassi-Bidault

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

FINDING MAGIC IN HIS POT by Becky Hemsley

"FINDING MAGIC IN HIS POT"
by Becky Hemsley

He carries specks of starlight

In a little silver pot

And they tell him that he’s strange

Because he has something they’ve not

They never think to ask him

What it is he keeps within

For they’d rather speak in whispers

That he doesn’t quite fit in

They think that being different

Is a lonely, scary shame -

They don’t realise that our magic

Lies in how we’re not the same

Yet when it’s dark, they search

For all the light his starlight casts

But they don’t know it’s his doing

‘Cause they never cared to ask

And even if they asked him

They’d be likely to misjudge

And instead of silver starlight

They’d see only specks of dust

See they’ve already decided

That he isn’t worth a lot

And yet, if only they looked closer

They’d find magic in his pot

********

Becky Hemsley 2021

https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild

Artwork by the fabulous Siski Kalla from the children's book of this poem https://a.co/d/duS8SQw

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html

A TREAT FOR MY MOTHER

"A TREAT FOR MY MOTHER"
(author unknown)

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, “I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.”

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who had been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my 3 children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

“What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

“I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.”

She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an Angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cosy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. “It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favour,” I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation — nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.

“How was your dinner date?” Asked my wife when I got home.

“Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place where mother and I had dined. An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but nevertheless I paid for two plates — one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me.”

“I love you, son.”

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: “I love you,” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till “some other time.”

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1700 e-books on our library shelves for your reading pleasure, so do come along and check us out.

More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here: https://www.nicheebookcollections.com/TC4W/ARTICLES.html