Tuesday, 7 May 2024

MY DOGS LIVE HERE


"MY DOGS LIVE HERE"
(author unknown)

My dogs live here, they're here to stay.
You don't like pets? Be on your way
They share my home, my food, my space
This is their home, this is their place.
You will find dog hair on the floor,
They will alert you're at the door.
They may request a little pat,
A simple 'NO' will settle that.
It gripes me when I hear you say,
Just how is it you live this way?
They smell, they shed, they're in the way.
WHO ASKED YOU? is all I can say.
They love me more than anyone.
My voice is like the rising sun,
They merely have to hear me say,
'C'mon, time to go and play."
Then tails wag and faces grin,
They bounce and hop and make a din,
They never say, 'No time for you,
They're always there, to GO and DO.
And if I'm sad, they're by my side.
And if I'm mad, they circle wide.
And if I laugh, they laugh with me.
They understand, they always see.
So, once again, I say to you,
'Come visit me,' but know this too..
My dogs live here, they're here to stay.
You don't like pets? Be on your way.
They share my home, my food, my space
This is their home, this is their place.

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AN ANGEL ON THE SHORE by Joanne Boyle

"AN ANGEL ON THE SHORE"
by Joanne Boyle

There was stories of an angel
seen with a shining light,
on the sandy shores
in the darkness of the night.
Some people went and sat,
in the hope that she'd appear,
but the angel only came
when no one else was near.
Those that sat and waited,
all left feeling strange.
They really didn't know,
their lives were about to change.
Each of them was drawn
to the hope it was their love.
Each of them believed
she had been sent from above.
Each of them had cried
and shouted many names.
Lost in their own grief
their worlds were up in flames.
Some had sat for weeks.
Some just came and went
but no one ever saw the angel
that the Lord had sent.
The light that she came with
was there for all to see
but their visions were so clouded
by a heart-breaking memory.
It wasn't until they left
that the visions would be clear.
and they realised that their angels
and their lights were always near. ********
Author Joanne Boyle Heartfelt

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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.
******
Beautiful image by Anna Fila
'Waiting by the Window' is from my fourth collection: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHL9MZC1...

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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.

******

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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

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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

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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!"

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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.
Art by the fabulously talented Cecile Fragassi-Bidault

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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...