Saturday, 18 May 2024

THE STORY OF OLD MR BILL


"THE STORY OF OLD MR BILL"
(author unknown)

The fire needed more wood! It was cold in this old house he thought as he carried in wood. He was standing warming up by the fireplace just thinking! Old men do a lot of that. He was lonely since his wife had passed. Thanksgiving didn’t really mean the same now! Oh he knew it was supposed to but he was just feeling down! It was a hard time for him and everybody else during the depression. Food was getting harder to come by and money wasn’t anywhere to be found! He was just wondering what he was going to have for supper! He remembered he had a bunch of sweet taters in the cellar! Be good baked with butter! He could roast them in the coals of the fireplace! Wasn’t much else! He had a few left over biscuits and some sweet milk! Wasn’t much but he knew he should be thankful he had that!

He heard footsteps on the porch and then a knock on the door! Come in he said, the old door creaked open and in stepped the little neighbour's boy! “Mr. Bill it’s cold out! Can I sit by the fire and warm up? Sure son, come on round! The little boy was called Slim. He could see why. He was tall and skinny! He asked, Slim what you doing out on a cold day like this? Slim replied, Mr. Bill, Momma sent me over here. She wanted me to ask you if you had any sweet taters? She’s cooking them for thanksgiving and she couldn’t find none! She sure would appreciate it and said to invite you to eat Thanksgiving Supper with us! He said Yes son, go down in the cellar and bring a bucket full up here. I’ll get you a poke to tote em in.
Slim ran outside to the cellar and come back with a small bucket about half full. He said, Mr. Bill them is some big pretty taters. Ours is done gone! They was little ones! Bill said, let’s rinch the dirt off of em, make em lighter to tote. He got most of the dirt off of em an sacked em for the boy! Slim said, I better get going! Mommas gotta cook them! You coming to eat ain’t you? Bill said, What time? Slim said, About dark ought to be fine! And oh yeah momma said don’t dress up cause we ain’t!
Bill had to laugh as Slim hurried out the door. He couldn’t have dressed up if he’d wanted to! He sat down back by the fire and was thinking again. What was he gonna do for food the rest of the winter? He had a little bit of canned food, taters and a patch of greens and onions and a few carrots! Then he felt ashamed for thinking that way! He had been taught better! And his wife would have not been happy with him for thinking that way! He watched the old mantle clock and heard the hour chime 4 o’clock as he was finishing up getting ready! He had shaved and put on a good white shirt and his best denim jumper. He looks in the old mirror and thought he looked pretty good for an old man!
It was still pretty light as he walked through the woods to the neighbours house. He still had a lot on his mind. His food situation was his biggest concern but he was smiling to think of a good meal that he didn’t have to cook! The neighbours dogs announced his arrival and he was welcomed inside to a warm house! The food smelled great! He hung his old coat by the door and little Billy ushered him to his chair! The table was covered with little bowls! It brought back memories of his wife and his eyes teared up!
Slims dad asked did he want to bless the food? He was caught off guard! He couldn’t form the words! He hadn’t felt blessed since his wife died! Slims dad caught on and said, No problem, I will. He bowed his head and said the prettiest blessings for the food! He enjoyed that beautiful meal! The family atmosphere was a great change for him! The lady could cook! After the meal they sat around the table and talked! Bill laughed more than he had in years! The lady fixed him a plate to take home! Before he left Slims dad said, We got something we want to give you! Bill said, What for? He said, Bill you remember helping Slim load wood last fall? Remember I was sick for a spell and couldn’t get out? We needed that wood! Yes, he remembered but didn’t think nothing of it! He said, I got six or seven big hens I want to give you! We ain’t got feed to feed all of em! Bill said, Well I appreciate it but you don’t have to! Slim ran out and gathered the hens and put em in a toe sack!
As he said his goodbyes on the porch, he had the hens over his shoulder and a big poke of food in the crook of his arm. The moon was bright and he had no problem seeing walking through the woods! He kept remembering the blessing from the meal. He knew that the good Lord provides for those that love him! And that good friends and neighbours were a blessing! He felt ashamed that he wasn’t able to say a blessing like that! But he knew now in his heart that was true! How just because he had helped someone in their time of need, he had been blessed with a bunch of chickens that would go a long way to making it thru a long winter! He could trade eggs in town for what he couldn’t pay for! His trusty old rifle would help him stay stocked with fresh game! He was feeling a lot better about things as he got in sight of his little cabin! He stood in the yard and looked up at that beautiful moon! He couldn’t help but cry! The moon looked blurry because tears filled his eyes as he said, God I’m sorry! You had plans to take care of me and I forget that! I want to say forgive me for falling short! And thank you for all my blessing, even the ones I didn’t see coming! I’m gonna try and do better with that! Thankful on this Thanksgiving day!
******** image by DALL-E 3 (AI)

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FOR ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS by Joanne Boyle 2024


"FOR ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS" by Joanne Boyle 2024
Hello everybody. I thought I would introduce myself and tell you a little about how I finally got to do my dream book.
First of all my real name is Joanne Boyle.
I don't recall a time in my life that I wasn't writing, even if it was in diary's as a child.
I used to write stories well before poems and I have no idea where the first poem came from, though I do recall what it was.
I always wanted a book. All my life it had been the one consistency I had for myself as I can move on from an idea quite easy.
I made (well my husband made) my heartfelt page for me. I can feel and I can write but the technical stuff, then no.
Anyway, I could write all day but I am here to tell you about how I got my books.
The Heartfelt book was a dream for me that I just did not know how to make happen. I would take photographs of my grandchildren, as we do, and then just look and create a poem to fit the photograph. I dreamt of having those in some kind of book but honestly did not know how.
Then, Our beautiful Queen passed away.
I was known for posting poems when someone passed away. I would mainly post to my own personal page in my name and I did with the Queen poem too.
Oh I should have said, before the Queen poem went viral I had another named seated, that had too, and had had write ups around the world.
So when I sent Queen to my socials and I saw 246 shares in 5 minutes, I never thought much about it. In fact it was not until I was at work the next day that I knew, from friends, about all the attention my poem was getting.
My poem had gone viral and was read in the house of commons. Tiktoks were made in schools and all over the world. It got taught as a part of English in foreign classrooms.
My proudest moments though were when I received a phone call inviting me to the houses of Parliament. This was because at the time the poem was read, i was not named as so many others were claiming it to be theirs, they even sent a fake profile to parliament claiming I'd admitted it was not mine.
I really was so naive to think people like this existed. Then I had to deal with the grammar police. I was just a lady who typed a poem on her phone with her fat fingers and posted it. haha.
I also received a call from boodles in bond Street, the Royal jewellers to let me know they had it framed and in their window. I was so proud of this too.
From all of this though, I was put in contact with a lady who helped me with my heartfelt book.
First of all I sat and researched the Queen and I decided to put a book together with Celia's help. We done that before heartfelt.
If there was only one heartfelt book made then no amount of money could buy it from me.
I now have 4 books and I owe everything to the Queen poem and all of you out there who shared it.
Here are some of the pictures from my proudest moments.
Thank you for reading
Joanne.

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DEATH CALLED ME TODAY by Gina Puorro


"DEATH CALLED ME TODAY"
by Gina Puorro

Death asked me to join him for dinner
so I slipped into my favourite black dress
that I had been saving for a special occasion
and let him walk me to our candlelit tryst.
He ordered a ribeye, extra rare
I ordered two desserts and red wine
and then I sipped
and wondered
why he looked so familiar
and smelled like earth and memory.
He felt like a place both faraway
and deep within my body
A place that whispers to me
on the crisp autumn breeze
along the liminal edges of dusk and dawn
somewhere between dancing
and stillness.
He looked at me
with the endless night sky in his eyes
and asked
‘Did you live your life, my love?’
As I swirled my wine in its glass
I wondered If I understood the thread I wove into the greater fabric
If I loved in a way that was deep and freeing
If I let pain and grief carve me into something more grateful
If I made enough space to be in awe that flowers exist
and take the time to watch the honeybees
drink their sweet nectar
I wondered what the riddles of regret and longing
had taught me
and if I realized just how
beautiful and insignificant and monstrous and small we are
for the brief moment that we are here
before we all melt back down
into ancestors of the land.
Death watched me lick buttercream from my fingers
As he leaned in close and said
‘My darling, it’s time.’
So I slipped my hand into his
as he slowly walked me home.
I took a deep breath as he leaned in close
for the long kiss goodnight
and I felt a soft laugh leave my lips
as his mouth met mine
because I never could resist a man
with the lust for my soul in his eyes
and a kiss that makes my heart stop.
********
author Gina Puorro: www.ginapuorro.com
Author's note: A playful love poem to Death, because I want to remember to relate to it as a part of life, and in ways that exist outside of violence and brutality.
[Photo: Kurt Markus for Vogue]

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THE SKY by Becky Hemsley


"THE SKY"
by Becky Hemsley

He asked of me why it was raining
He asked was it tears from the sky
And I replied yes
That this was the case
That even the heavens can cry
He asked of me what was the thunder
He said it was hurting his ears
And I told him that sometimes
Even the clouds
Need to scream so that somebody hears
He asked of me what was the wind
And why was it whirling and swirling around
So I explained
Even the sky takes deep breaths
When it’s trying to calm itself down
Yet often, we keep our tears secret
And we swallow our own cries for help
And we think that it’s weak
To be catching our breath
So we don’t let our struggles be felt
And yet, if the clouds never emptied
If the sky never screamed through the storm
It would sit growing darker
And darker until
It was simply no use to us all
So throw all your fears to the wind dear
And toss all your tears to the clouds
And you will discover
The infinite power
The heavens hold over the ground
See, it’s normal and natural to struggle
And it’s healthy and human to cry
And if anyone questions
Your power my darling
Just tell them it’s matched by the sky
*****
Becky Hemsley 2022
Beautiful artwork by Maria Zeldis
‘The Sky’ is the last poem in my second collection

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LISTEN TO THE WORDS by Joanne Boyle


"LISTEN TO THE WORDS"
by Joanne Boyle

Again I sat and played,
with the demons in my head,
setting my pulse on fire,
as my body filled with dread.
Looking out of the window,
wondering why it's always dark.
Praying for some silence,
from every noise and bark.
Once more I feel the sweat,
that falls upon my brow,
caused simply by the thoughts,
as I question how?
How do I escape?
To run from my own mind.
To keep digging for an answer,
knowing there's none to find.
To sit upon this chair
that ties me up in chains.
To know that no one cares
and nothing else remains.
To hope and pray for an answer,
for someone just to see.
Beneath this mask I wear,
will someone look at me?
But still, I do not tell.
I let my demons win.
No one really cares enough,
so why should you let them in?
Instead I'll sit and rot,
the stench consuming my soul.
I will lock the door,
and climb into that hole.
The world outside will listen then
to all the words unsaid.
Then they will really care,
When I am in my final bed.
We cared for you, my friend;
We simply did not know.
We only saw you smiling.
We saw what you did show.
We are sorry you never noticed,
when the the sun did shine,
or found serenity from the music,
as you drank red wine.
We are sorry for those chains,
we wish we had had the key.
We did not read your eyes as
as they begged for us to see.
We are sorry for your family.
For all who hurt today.
We are sorry you didn't trust anyone
to be able to say.
We are sorry for your pain.
We all now pay the price.
We only wish you had seen
that people can be nice.
So now we live and learn,
from one battle that is lost.
That we will build an army
due to the lives it's cost.
So my message to all of you,
is don't listen with your ears.
Our eyes are more perceptive
to see a person's fears.
Listen to the words,
the ones that no one says.
This is how we shall win the war
of our future Mental Health days.
********
Author Joanne Boyle Heartfelt
#mentalhealth awareness week

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I MISS THOSE FLUTTERFLIES by Joanne Boyle


"I MISS THOSE FLUTTERFLIES"
by Joanne Boyle

Sometimes I miss those flutterflies,
the ones that I used to get.
The ones that stole my appettite
every time we met.
Sometimes I miss those flutterflies
that reminded me I was young.
The ones that would make me dizzy
as if I had been spun.
Sometimes I miss those flutterflies
that would dance inside my heart
the ones that never slept
even when we were apart.
Sometimes I miss those flutterflies
that sung inside my head.
The ones that wouldn't silence
even when I went to bed.
Although I miss those flutterflies
I love the Butterfly more.
The one that taught me meaning
of what love is really for.
The Butterfly keeps on fluttering
through all days good and bad.
It never leaves my side
through emotions happy or sad.
Sometimes I miss those flutterflies
but I wouldn't change a thing.
The Butterfly never leaves me.
It is my everything.
*******
Author Joanne Boyle Heartfelt


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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...