Posts tagged ‘beauty’

Nature’s Beauty

by: Rebecca Taylor

Dew droplets sparkling on the grass

Trees reflecting against the bright blue skies

Sunshine filtering down to the ground

Rows of hay bales to be picked up

Quiet except for the sound of birds

And the tractor’s engine

Nature gives us beauty to find serenity in.

Love As

by: Rebecca Taylor

Love as new and fragile as a baby bird
Emotions as overpowering as a fireworks display
Hands joined together as a symbol of commitment
Hearts beating quick as an Olympic racer’s footsteps
Joy as overwhelming as seeing a newborn for the first time
Life’s beauty as evident as a glorious rainbow after a storm
Sound of voices happy as experiencing rain after a drought
Sharing mundane moments stunning as experiencing medallic triumphs
Wonder because having someone special in your life is as good as it gets.

Life Through a Mother’s Hands

**previously published by All Rights Reserved in 2008**

            We are elderly now; we have felt the world through our fingertips. Disfigured and full of arthritis, making a move is now difficult for us. What can you expect from ninety‑four year-old hands? Once we moved like magic making beautiful music come out of the piano that sat in my human’s parlour. How the children loved to sit and listen to us chime out old tunes. Now this old house where we sit is empty. The children have left home and moved away where they have their own lives, but I haven’t forgotten wiping away their tears and embracing them in their times of joy and sorrow. We have but ourselves to converse with, eight twisted fingers, and two thumbs who have shared a lifetime together.

            “The times we used to have,” said the right index finger. “Remember how long we had to hold onto the handle bars of Nellie’s bike, but eventually she was ready to reach out with her own replicas of a younger us.”

            “Being Miss Caroline’s hands have given us many adventures,” answered the left pinkie.

            “We first got to touch her beloved Isaac’s hands, their warmth radiated our souls, and I still wear his token of love seventy-five years later, even though he has been gone for more than a decade,” said the left ring finger.

            “Holding the wee babes just as they entered this world, all five of them and the life they have given us since then.”

            The calluses and blisters that we have gotten along the way are not a hard price to pay for the happiness we have received. These hands still sting with the want to smack Clark Davis when he dumped Annie at the alter. He decided marrying a Culhane, even for their money wasn’t an acceptable thing to do. The poor girl cried buckets, some of them soaking into our flesh as we cradled her gently like when she was little. Now she has what she deserves, a husband, children and grandchildren to brighten her days. I hope the whole family comes to visit soon, all forty-three of them; they’d give us useless old hands something to do.

            I wish we could go back to the days when we moved like lightening loving, fixing, and caring for everything in our path. The days when children came running in wanting us to caress their kittens and fix their dolly’s boo boos have all but gone, only to return on their brief visits and even then I seem incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks with my ineffective fingers. How they want to move but can’t. The strife knowing that we are no longer able to do the things we once did is overwhelming. We used to make beautiful hand crafted quilts for our children, grand children, and great grandchildren but now we can no longer hold a needle or the scissors needed to cut the cloth. We once did great things, we had a family who needed us, and we got out in the community and took food to the less fortunate. We played cards well into the night but now my hands cannot hold the things that I love. Our days of glory have come and gone but thankfully, even through the pain of each tiny movement we make we can remember how things once were, in us are the memories, the feeling of the wrapping paper on a homemade gift, the washcloth’s water and soap soaking into us as we cleaned a popsicle stained face, hands gripping each other. We were given everything in this world, the greatest gift, being a mother’s hands.

Garden of Emotions

**Previously published by Long Story Short in April 2015**

by: Rebecca Taylor

Bright colours align the garden path

I look at the marigolds – so yellow and orange

Their delicate faces look like they’re smiling at me

Then I see the forget-me-nots – mostly blue

They remind me to tell the people I love how I feel

Next I visit the multi-coloured tulips

Their blooms open and welcoming ask me to stay a while

In the back are the towering sunflowers

Their height a reminder to stand tall against the elements of life

Now I see the roses – a multitude of hews living together

A message that I need harmony every day

The apple blossoms are gorgeous up in their tree

Their scent delightful and I take a moment to enjoy

Lilac buds are opening on their bushes

I snip a few to take inside with me

To remind me of the bliss I had on my walk.

Marveling at Technology

By: Rebecca Taylor

Many of us take the technology we are using for granted. We want our gadgets to work and we want our information fast. I have the opportunity to see people marvel at the equipment we have today, at the senior’s home where I work as an administrative assistant. When a resident wants to have a postal code, I am able to sit at my desk behind my computer, go online and get them the information within minutes, instead of having to use a large reference book to find the correct information. What kind of care does an azalea need? No problem, a search engine brings up this information without having to go to the library and look for a reference book on plants. Knitting patterns are too small; off to the photocopier I go and emerge less than a minute later with an enlarged copy. Family lives far away and wants to share a picture or a few words, e-mail makes communicating easy. With today’s technology the possibilities of what we can do are virtually endless. The internet is practically limitless in the information it has, I will admit sifting through it sometimes is a bit of an organizational challenge but generally it doesn’t take long to get the answer we are looking for. Everything we may want in a way can be found there – recipes, horoscopes, a copy of Dear Annie, quotes, poetry, book previews, even the kind of bird that wakes you up every morning can be found with sound clips. But are we happy with what we have? Some of us maybe but many of us want more, new versions are forever coming forward and everyone rushes to line up for the latest. Can you remember when we didn’t have any of this technology or the first time you saw a computer or the internet? I was in sixth grade when we got our first one and it had dial up internet. It was fast enough then but then we learned about faster options. Is society rushing more or do we just get used to the modern conveniences of today? When I think of the seniors I deal with, I smile because they are in such awe of what I can do with my machines, how much information they hold and how fast things can be done. Their bewilderment and the ease at which I can help them with their queries is a beautiful thing.

Always More

by: Rebecca Taylor

More than the makeup and the clothes they wore

More than the jewellery and shoes for sure

For hidden beneath the outer wear

Is a person with much to offer, love and care

Because behind the first glance, there’s always more.

Magical Moments

click to enlarge. Paradise on Paper poem design

My Reason

by: Rebecca Taylor

From this week’s writing prompt. 

Sometimes I wonder why I’m here. What am I truly doing here, in this world all at once full of mystery and magic and malice? Why am I a part of it? Then I remember that I’m here because I have a gift. I have a gift that no one else does; one that will control my destiny and other’s. My gift is the inability to give up on others. Perhaps, that sounds cliché or just another word for determination, but with me it is different. This gift or curse, depending on where you stand, refuses to let me walk away from people who are in trouble or doing wrong. It means that I see tons of pain but also sometimes the reward when these people come out of the darkness and see that the world can be beautiful despite the trauma they have dealt with. Where does my gift find me? In a rehabilitation center where I can use what I’ve got to help others. I’m the one they call when a patient comes in and refuses to try to work with the staff to improve his or her life. My reputation has earned me some rather interesting and harsh nicknames along the way but that is just the way it is. Even if I thought that tomorrow I could walk away and start a new life on some bright and sunny island with no problems, I wouldn’t be able to leave until I had dealt with my last patient and by then I’d have more.

Besides, everywhere I go my so-called gift follows me. It’s been with me forever. My friends growing up were kids who needed help, and even though a lot of their family issues were messy I didn’t have a choice but to sit and listen to what they had to say and ask my parents what to do about it and nag them until they made sure that everything was going to be alright. At the time I think everyone just thought I was a good Samaritan kid or a show‑off but the truth is I was too young to understand some of these kids problems. However, I grew up and didn’t get to stay naïve forever. The worst night of my life was prom. Some of my classmates snuck out to the alley across the street with alcohol and as the night went on, some of them got very drunk and into a fight. Things turned ugly and I ended up out there, something made me go there. One minute I was dancing with my date and the next I was in the alley yelling at Tommy Unger and Bobby West to stop fighting. It was terrifying, they were using broken bottles as weapons and they each already had cuts on their arms and faces. They were too intoxicated to be reasonable and for some reason I stepped between them. I have a long jagged scar on my left arm to prove it, but somehow seeing the blood flowing from me, in my pretty blue prom dress stopped them in their tracks. I don’t give up, but that doesn’t always mean I am smart about my tactics, but I’m learning more with each passing day.

And who am I? Lizzie Yougetti, a trained physical therapist with a bad rap and a binder full of notes from previous patients. People might not like me but I don’t have any choice but to get the job done. But on today’s agenda, is a task I am going to cherish for a long time, showing a man’s family that he is walking again, and who will be with him? His infant daughter who is also learning how to take her first steps. Moments like this make me remember that there is a reason I have the “gift” that I do.


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