The glasses clinked on their shelves,
a sign we recognised. Unperturbed,
I moved to the kitchen doorway –
doorways were supposed safer,
the frying pan still in my hand.
The floor shook as scales shake
when you weigh yourself, an
insecurity underfoot. But it didn’t
stop. The shake became a roll,
a house beginning to canter.
My father at the head of the
dining table, rose slowly to
his feet. I saw his hands grip
the table edge. ‘In a minute
I’m going to be frightened.’
And I knew he already was,
from the colour of his knuckles.
Rachel Bentham is an award-winning internationally published poet and novelist from Bristol, England. She lives there with her four children, and is “rarely bored.”
____________________________
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Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
The snow drips from the heavens
in white large frozen tears of
the angels and i am hypnotized
like a man struck by just how
a woman walking can leave him
speechless.
Now it’s beautiful.
Whereas before it was rainy
and gloomy, and the snow was
black and iced hard except for
the slush that was loose and ready
to give out under you no matter
how well you strut. But,
now it’s beautiful,
and i sit in the dark here in my
room. 15 stories from the ground
and the dripping tears dance
backlit by the lights of Times Square
and all i can think of is
now it’s beautiful.
_________________________________
Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.
my hands touch her warm flesh
floating across her skin as if
guided by some unseen
presence.
the curves of her shoulders,
the flow of her waist
the softness of her
thighs.
I am humbled by her body
Gathering strength
from the hole inside me
as I say, see you soon, babe,
leaving the room, with a sigh
the tubes are
pulled.
the alarm sounds and together we breathe goodbye.
______________________
Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”
How insignificant we seem; how trivial our troubles become, when our world is seen from high above the clouds. We are but a small speck in the palm of this great galaxy, yet each of us leaves our mark on every living creature we touch, talk to, type to— even Tweet. Every new day holds promise—it’s up to us what we do with that promise.
Sometimes, I feel so much pressure, so many To-Do’s, so overwhelmed. I squeeze every minute out of the day, until I’m running on empty. There are times I don’t even remember how I lived it—or if I lived it.
I’ve come to realize that the moments that matter the most to me—the ones I hold closest to my heart—were not full days or full weeks. They were mere moments. Minutes with tiny wings, fluttering by like fragile butterflies. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed them.
I don’t want to blink. I want to take each new day and hold it in my hand. Not like the tight fist I make when I’m frightened, or cold, or just being stubborn–but a wide open palm, welcoming a butterfly to rest its wings there for a while.
I want to experience each day fully—good and bad. To live in the moment, then let it go.
The first time our young daughter caught a snowflake on her tongue. The look on my father’s face as we danced on my wedding day. My mother singing along to Bon Jovi, inciting our feisty toddler to reply back, “No, it’s MY life!” My husband giving up his airplane window seat (and holding my Starbucks coffee for me) so I could capture images of the sun rising over the Rockies on the first morning of a new year.
This is a promise to myself to stop and take more careful notice of something or someone in my life, every single day.
Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it. I hope you’ll join me on my small adventure.
Sun Rising Over Rocky Mountains, Jan. 1st, 2011Early Morn Over the Rockies, January 1st, 2011
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The greatest lesson I learned this year was that I don’t need great power or money to make a difference in the world. I can use my talents to help others. I got a much greater reward than any award or sum of money simply by learning how children in the third world have benefited from the donations I’ve been able to offer Unicef and Grace Educational Trust School.
Thanks to your interest in my poetry collection, I’ve surpassed my goal of being able to give a child in the third world the Gift of Education for a year. In addition to that Gift, I recently donated money from the proceeds of my book sales to buy bed nets to help children avoid malaria, and just bought a child the Gift of Play. A lot of children have never seen art supplies or a jump rope. Shouldn’t every child in this world know what it is to create and to play?
Earlier this year, thanks to an interview I did with Neelima Pratap for one of my magazine articles, I discovered a wonderful school in Goa, India that is in its beginning stages and needs financial help so the children can have supplies, desks (they currently sit on the soil to study) and a larger room to serve as their classroom. After I donated to Unicef, I was able to donate proceeds from WTBG to Grace Educational Trust School to help them out a bit with the construction costs for the chairs and desks. I hope with Christmas sales and throughout 2009 I can continue to donate to both Unicef and Grace Educational Trust School.
I am still committed to donating half the proceeds from sales of Where the Butterflies Go to third world educational projects, even though I initially said I’d just try to fund one child’s education for a year. I didn’t want to stop at that once I realized how many lives could be touched with the small donation each book sale offers. I want to keep going, and I hope you’ll help me by buying the book for Christmas gifts this year; Mother’s Day gifts next year, or just for yourself. That’s all I want for Christmas!
People of all ages and backgrounds enjoy my poems – there really is something in this collection for everyone, so it makes a great gift for that person who seems to have everything. You can read the reviews here: Reviews of Heather’s poetry collection. This is also the spot where I’d prefer you buy the book, as Amazon takes a heftier royalty, leaving less for me to donate to Unicef. Just a request 🙂
Autographed copies are available by emailing me at writer@hgrace.com. I can ship the signed book to you once I receive payment via Paypal. Unsigned copies are easily bought via lulu.com as well as amazon sites internationally.
It’s been such a joy to receive notices from Grace School updating me on the school’s progress. Recently, the school’s small staff organized a Children’s Day at the school. The children had never seen party hats or favours before, and were so excited to receive the simplest things most of us take for granted, like pencils and erasers.
Pencils and erasers. I’ve learned through my involvement with Unicef and Grace Educational Trust School this year that the simplest, most seemingly insignificant gifts can give children in third world countries a sense of well-being, self-worth and pride. Those are the gifts I can’t wait to give this Christmas.
Children's Day at GET: Their faces say it all!
Order unsigned copies of my book here and receive them in time for Christmas: Where the Butterflies Go
Signedcopies ordered through me before Dec. 15 should also make it in time for the 25th!
Learn more about Grace Educational Trust School through a CBC special here Giving Hope).
Heather Grace Stewart 