THE CORNER 4 WOMEN

Sunday, 28 July 2024

"WHEN" by Becky Hemsley

"WHEN"
by Becky Hemsley

When did we all lose the thrill

Of running full-speed down a hill

Of marvelling at daffodils

Until the sun went down?

When did we stop spending days

On grassy verges weaving braids

Of plaited, fragile daisy chains

Until we’d made a crown?

When did we begin to lose

The urge to skip and race and move

‘Til we had scuffed our favourite shoes

All in the name of fun?

When was it that we forgot

Predicting ‘loves me, loves me not’

With flowers from a wild plot

That grew beneath the sun?

And when did we begin to miss

The chance to stop and make a wish

With dandelions clocks we’d picked

That grew beneath our feet?

Well I for one do not believe

That we forgot how all that feels

But life at some point took the wheel

And freedom took back seat

It seems that it got left behind

And buried ‘neath the daily grind

But it’s still there for us to find

At any time we want

So climb a hill then run back down

Weave yourself a daisy crown

Then blow your wishes to the clouds

Because life’s too short

to stop

******

Becky Hemsley 2023

https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild

Stunning artwork by Lisa Aisato

'When' is part of my most recent collection https://a.co/d/5tiaf9c

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"SHARING CORN"

"SHARING CORN"
(author unknown)

There was a farmer who grew excellent quality corn. Every year he won the award for the best grown corn. One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbour's. “How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbour's when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?” the reporter asked.

“Why sir,” said the farmer, “Didn’t you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbour's grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn.

If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbours grow good corn.”

So is with our lives... Those who want to live meaningfully and well must help enrich the lives of others, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches.

And those who choose to be happy must help others find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all...

"THE HAND SHAKE" by Mary O’Brien

"THE HAND SHAKE"

by Mary O’Brien ©

He thrust his hand out boldly, with a smile upon his face,

Then glancing down he pulled it back, in shame and half disgrace.

‘Sorry love my hand is way too dirty, to shake the likes of yours,

‘There’s grease and dirt and god knows what, on my rough old paws.’

His smile just briefly faded, as he wiped them on his shirt,

‘Mate won’t bother me’ I quickly said, ‘it’s just a bit of dirt’.

I wonder did he even see, the story in his hand,

All the blisters, cuts and bruises, from him working on the land.

The bent and broken finger, from when the micky hit the gate,

The cracked and blackened fingernail, when he held a chisel for a mate.

He may have seen those battle scars, but did he see the rest?

The story of his life laid there, a toiler of the best.

Those hands have cut the mulga, put out the licks and block,

And from a muddy dam, they have pulled the dying stock.

They guide the header through the crop, over hectares ripe and gold,

Then into church on Sunday, his partners’ hand they hold.

Embedded with black diesel grease, and burrs from woolly sheep,

They brush the frost off windscreens, as he starts while others sleep.

His hands have tied the tricky knots, to hold the precious load,

Then they steer the massive road train, as it rumbles down the road.

They proudly taught his son just how, to hold that cricket bat,

They clean the trough, shoe the horse, and help a lady change a flat.

Leather they have polished, then tightened up the girth,

They gentle break the yearling colt, and draw mud maps in the dirt.

These hands have bled so many times; he scarcely feels the pain,

They pass the footy, turn the snags, and check the gauge for rain.

That hand has locked in contracts; with this hand, he gives his word,

They have shovelled mud around the wheels, and have saved a baby bird.

Hands that wave his hat about, pushing weaners up the race,

They’ve held a tiny tea-set cup, to see the smile upon her face.

Hands that relocate a brown snake, when it somehow gets inside,

They have evacuated green frogs, and buried Fluffy when she died.

Those hands have cracked a stock whip, and dressed a fly blown sheep,

They rub his aching back, as he dreams about some sleep.

Tough hands that dug the postholes, and welded up the gate,

They’ve rolled a fleece, cheered his team, and passed a cold one to a mate.

They’ve wiped the sweat, chased the flies, and even broken up a fight,

They tap the calculator buttons, in his office late at night.

Milking cows, digging grids, and carrying bags of grain.

He has pressed those hands together, as he muttered prayers for rain.

They fix the pump, start the siphons, and scratch his troubled head,

And then they rub his weary eyes, as he finally heads to bed.

These hands untangle Christmas lights; kids and tinsel all around,

They check the crop has sprouted, as they scratch into the ground.

They tend the vines, they pick the fruit, they crush the sweetest cane,

Then they hold a tiny pushbike seat, and cradle children in their pain.

Hands that lay a wreath for granddad, as the haunting Last Post plays,

They wrap around his family, as he waits for better days.

With these hands he fought the bush-fire, to save his neighbours’ crop,

They have tied his daughter’s laces, and thrown hay bales up on top.

Those hands have fixed the windmill, and split the ironbark log,

They’ve shorn the rams, checked the crops, and cupped water for his dog.

To safety, they have pulled him, up the stockyard rail,

And they wiped away his silent tears, when the crop got smashed with hail.

He looked a little ill at ease, as he stood there in the yard,

Especially when I grabbed his hand, and shook it long and hard.

I hope he understood, that I saw much more than grime,

‘Mate, it’s just a bit of dirt’, I uttered one more time.

Looking past the grease and dirt; I see his joy, his pain, his tears,

If you’re watching with your heart, you see the story of his years.

Saturday, 27 July 2024

"THE WOMAN AND THE BEES" by Chima_Dickson Official

"THE WOMAN AND THE BEES"

by Chima_Dickson Official

There was a beautiful young woman who made friends with a colony of bees. She visited the beehive in the woods everyday, and she offered her bee friends sugar and flowers filled with delicious nectar.

The bees loved her very much and loved to play with her. They would hover around her, kiss her and tell her how she brightened up their day. They deeply appreciated her kindness and generosity.

One evening, the woman was walking through the woods when a hungry and ferocious leopard attacked her. She froze for a second, paralysed with fear and unable to run. Her heart pounded heavily, her palms sweaty, and she began to tremble from head to foot.

With a quavering voice, she pleaded,

"Please, don't kill me! I am an innocent bride who is about to be married to a wealthy sailor. Please, let me go!"

However, the hungry leopard growled and snarled at her so viciously,

"Shut your mouth, you coward! I am going to kill you and eat your flesh! I will tear you apart and fill my hungry stomach!"

A shiver of horror ran through the woman and filled all her bones with fright, she thought she would die right there. Suddenly, the thought of her bee friends crossed her mind. At once, an idea struck her, and she said to the leopard,

"Listen, I am a cursed girl with a very bitter blood. My blood tastes exactly like coffee, making my flesh bitter too. You won't enjoy eating me. But if you take me to the beehive, the bees can give you some honey which can make my blood tasty and sweet."

The leopard thought for a moment, then grunted impatiently in agreement,

"Alright, then! Now, let's go and get some honey. I can't wait to fill my stomach!"

The leopard grabbed the woman and began pulling her towards the beehive which was a short distance away. However, upon getting there, the woman screamed for help, calling out her bee friends.

Like the wind, all the bees burst out from their hive and attacked the leopard, biting and stinging it mercilessly, until it cried and ran far away.

Having defeated the ferocious leopard, the bees smiled at the woman and said,

"This is the only way we can pay for your kindness towards us. We love you, and we wish you a very happy married life. We will miss you so much when you finally go live with your husband."

Upon saying that, the bees accompanied her back to her village and bid her farewell. The leopard on the other hand, was able to heal it's wounds from the bee stings. However, the stings had formed black spots all over it's skin which never went away.

MORAL LESSON:

When you do good for others, you might not be rewarded for your actions immediately, but you would surely receive it someday. Be kind to all people, share love with everyone and forgive your enemies. It can lead to positive outcomes and rewards in the future.

"MOTHER'S DINNER DATE"

"MOTHER'S DINNER DATE" (author unknown)

When you have the urge to get together with someone DO IT!!

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 has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three 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 a 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 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.”

Friday, 26 July 2024

"HOLD MY HAND SISTER" by Joanne Boyle

"HOLD MY HAND SISTER"
by Joanne Boyle

Hold my hand Sister

Let us run and play.

Let us go to a memory

from a yesterday.

Let us forget our troubles.

Put our aches to the side.

Let us walk on the beach

as our memories collide.

Talk to me sister

about nothing at all.

Let us live in the moments

like when we were small.

Let us go in our minds

to a memory of ours.

Then let's talk over tea

for hours and hours.

Hold my hand Sister

and don't let it go

Because age will come

and we will grow.

********

Author Joanne Boyle ~ Heartfelt

Art by ~ Steffi Krenzek

"Friends Like Us" by Joanne Boyle

"Friends Like Us"

by Joanne Boyle

Remember when we were little

and all the stories that we told?

We would talk about our future,

about a time that we'd grow old.

We would whisper in the wind

Send our dreams up to the sky.

We trusted one another

like the faithful butterfly.

We made a pact together,

and it just seems like yesterday

when we'd call on each other

to see if we were coming out to play.

Our teddy bears shared a picnic

and now our living children do.

All those stories that we told

most of them came true.

We didn't talk about the sorrows.

The ones that we would face.

As children we did not know

of the losses from this place.

Time taught us many values

but we shared them with each other.

From children and their dolls

we all, in turn became a Mother.

I still recall the games we played

and all the fun we had.

The nights we'd play hide and seek

until we were found by mum or dad.

Summer days we would play rounders

with other kids from different streets.

Sundays were a day of rest

and tea was made from treats.

If I had known back then

the things that I now know.

I would cherish every minute

with the friends that helped me grow.

*********

J.Boyle

https://www.facebook.com/poeminabottlle
art by Steffi Krenzek

Brought to you by https://thecorner4women.com together with our sister website http://www.nicheebookcollections.com and our growing e-book library available FREE, through our Newsletter sign up page here:-
https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html We now have over 1900 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