I have great pleasure in introducing a poem by Jennifer Cartland to the plum tree. I love the straightforward simplicity of this poem. And I love its poignant ending. This is another of our brilliant submissions for the MOTHER anthology, which we hope will be ready for Mother’s Day 2015. And this is the third in the series of angel illustrations submitted by the brilliant Cleber Pacheco. And while we are on the subject of angels, you will find Touching Angels HERE If you are in the mood for really gentle sounds, this CD is just for you, with love from me.
If you have a poem or art to send in, please do so. We would love to hear from you.
The gift By Jennifer Cartland
Angel By Cleber Pacheco
Somewhere in the silky trill of the early birds
my memory finds you,
and in its deep wanderings
on this foggy morning
whatever was true and not true
surfaces in small pieces,
more tattered for having been retrieved.
You gave me a gift once –
is it one of these frayed remnants,
or many of them,
or in between them?
With substance enough
to hold all the rest,
or not — will it slip through,
never to be known again?
Come back again and tell me,
point it out, sing it to me,
whisper it at bedtime,
shout it down the street
as I am leaving.
Make sure I don’t forget.
Don’t be afraid of boring me,
I will listen to every syllable this time.
When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down.
One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.”
Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!”
I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I?
I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.”
Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray.
With love from Dr. Niamh,
Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamhchildrensbooks.com