Category Archives: Poetry

World Kindness Day

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This year’s theme for World Kindness Day is “Be Kind Wherever Possible”, to highlight the significance of kindness to be practiced all over the universe and in each part of our lives.

The motivation behind World Kindness Day is to focus on the positivity and empathy that joins all of us. A crucial part of the human experience, kindness rises above political, racial, religious, gender, and geographical limits.  

One of the themes of the Angels’ bedroom is “kindness” and I’ve hung these quotes on the wall, to persistently, if not also subliminally, get my message across.

I don’t know how many times I’ve had the same conversation with Angel Boy 2.0 about Rumi’s Three Gates, especially regarding his little sister…

Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates
At the first gate, ask yourself, “Is it true?”
At the second gate ask, “Is it necessary?”
At the third gate ask, “Is it kind?”

Best of all, Krispy Kreme is giving donuts away to the first 500, so I better leave now so I can get in line. I could use some of that sort of kindness!

Be kind to ourselves, and be kind to others.

Trees Call To Me, Too

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There’s a tree that I’ve been watching
And I see it in my dreams
For it calls to me and whispers
As it dances in the breeze
It whispers of a struggle
From the roots up through the trunk
And from there it tells of healing
Grown of nurture, care and love
Becky Hemsley 2021

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

seriously

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The world is going through some serious things, all very painful, all tragic.

One of my favorite aunts died yesterday, in her sleep. She was ninety-one years old and had a hard time coping with the death of her loving husband and a subsequent stroke. She was simply tired of being alive, even less after her youngest son recently died of cancer. Last week, her entire family (on the east coast) gathered by her side for her birthday but they said it was as if she was already transitioning, already thinning the veil between here and there or nowhere.

This Mary Oliver quote from her poem, “Invitation”, really says it all:
It is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.

Hanging By A Thread

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“A spider lives inside my head
Who weaves a strange and wondrous web
Of silken threads and silver strings
To catch all sorts of flying things,
Like crumbs of thoughts and bits of smiles
And specks of dried-up tears,
And dust of dreams that catch and cling
For years and years and years…”

― Shel Silverstein

Hanging by a thread is exactly how I feel every once in a while, how about you?

This is the last of my spider posts, I promise!

You’re looking at one of the many orbweaver spiders that make my garden their home. Yes, they’re fairly large but that’s no reason to be scared of them! Orb-weavers, like most spiders, are highly beneficial and eat lots of insects: mosquitoes, bees, wasps, flies, small moths and butterflies, and even grasshoppers. 

This guy was attached to an apple tree but I’m not sure of his ultimate destination…

The Annular Solar Eclipse

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I couldn’t find the special eclipse glasses we used in 2017 even though I know I saved them, so I used a colander and it made some really awesome crescents on a white background. The sun was only about 70% obscured here, no ring of fire, but super cool to safely experience.

Here’s a relevant poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850 – 1919) 

A SOLAR ECLIPSE

In that great journey of the stars through space
    About the mighty, all-directing Sun,
    The pallid, faithful Moon, has been the one
Companion of the Earth. Her tender face,
Pale with the swift, keen purpose of that race,
    Which at Time’s natal hour was first begun,
    Shines ever on her lover as they run
And lights his orbit with her silvery smile.

Sometimes such passionate love doth in her rise,
    Down from her beaten path she softly slips,
And with her mantle veils the Sun’s bold eyes,
    Then in the gloaming finds her lover’s lips.
While far and near the men our world call wise
    See only that the Sun is in eclipse.

Come Home

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Yesterday’s angst is over; problems solved — today is Friday the 13th, a day that was once considered unlucky until we learned that its negative image is rooted in the patriarchy suppressing the power of the female.

Rather than being afraid of Friday the 13th, especially since its ruled by Venus, we could instead manifest its magic as a day to connect to our beauty and nature.

For me, that’s always been the easiest route; my animal family is all about love. This IS home, along with art and a poem.

I shall
Gather up
All the lost souls
That wander this earth
All the ones that are alone
All the ones that are broken
All the ones that never really fitted in
I shall gather them all up
And together we shall find our home

“Gather up” A Poem written by Athey Thompson
Taken from A Little Book Of Poetry
Art by Elaine Bayley curated from Pinterest

October Fevers and Aussie Binges

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“Whence October is upon us, There shall be magic in the air, why it shall be everywhere. All ye leaves shall fall as Autumn does call. And as the faery folk are now gathering up and foraging, tonight I shall be leaving them a wee offering. Why, I shall leave them a few freshly hand picked Bramble berries & a wee tipple of Whiskey, Oh why how merry they shall surely be.” –Athey Thompson

First I’m hot and then I’m freezing. I confess that I’m having a hard time locating the magic in October. Not yet.

Because I wasn’t very smart last year and didn’t get a pneumonia vaccination, I ended up really sick with the most horrible case of double (bi-lateral) pneumonia, so bad that but for the fact that I’m incredibly stubborn, I would have been hospitalized,

THIS time I got the vaccination, reluctantly, because I always endure side effects for about thirty-six hours: headache, chills, fever. Most people only experience a sore arm but my immune system likes to give me a more ambitious taste of reality.

That’s why I’m now wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa, drinking ginger tea and binge-watching my new obsession, Blue Heelers, an Australian TV show from the 90s about the daily lives of Victorian police officers working at a police station in the fictional small town of Mount Thomas.

I think I’ve pretty much exhausted all the available British shows, so I had to search in a completely different hemisphere. Yes, it’s outdated with the gigantic brick-like cell phones, floppy disks, and scrunchies, but I’m learning a lot of new words like “mozzy” for mosquito, “esky” for Eskimo cooler, “slab” for six-pack of beer, “good on ya” and “you beauty“. I had to look up “it’s my shout, mate” to learn it means whoever said it will pay for the next round of drinks.

Previously my DIL and I loved A Place To Call Home, Rake, The Newsreader, The Doctor Blake Mysteries, and of course, Bluey.

I’m bracing for more vaccinations next week because it’s better to have a robustly active immune than the alternative. The first Covid vaccine sent me immediately to urgent care with an allergic reaction (read about that here) but the rest of them have been well tolerated except for the thirty-six hours of subsequent hell.

Anyway, happy October and stay healthy!

Love Light Glow

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This poem by Athey Thompson reminds me of the book I like so much, The Bowl of Light… https://enchantedseashells.com/2022/12/15/what-im-reading-the-bowl-of-light/

She held within her hands
A forever glowing light
Filled with love
O how it shined so bright
And everywhere she did go
Whether it be near or far
She left a little
Of her delicate, loving light
For everyone’s
Delight - Athey Thompson


In my own little rose-colored fantasy world, I wish I was wearing a sheer gossamer gown with butterfly wings so that I could share love and sparkles with all the flowers.

Artist unknown

Sunday Vibes

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I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree. –Joyce Kilmer

I looked up from weeding the veg garden at green leaves and the bluest sky kissed by the sun. There’s a bird singing somewhere in there but I couldn’t locate it.

Had to snap a pic before this ash tree loses all its leaves for the season in the process called abcission. I wrote about that here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2020/11/20/the-process-of-abscission/

#SundayVibes

Tick Tock, It’s the Autumnal Equinox

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It’s cooling off even here in Southern California and now we can anticipate (or dread) shorter, darker days, to give us plenty of time for self reflection on the passage of time.

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The Falling Leaves
Today, as I rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.
by Margaret Postgate-Cole (1893–1980)

I had to add this melancholy Nat King Cole song and just noticed he and the poet have the same last name. How cool is that coincidence!

And another version by Frank: