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Not only is it a privilege to teach but a job to learn. Employment should be accessed with passion, not simply intent to earn…
 
 
                                                                                                                          - Boneata Bell
 

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In The Fairy Garden

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Power. You either have it, or you don't. And that's the way it will always be. So, I'm sitting in my garden in England, it's a tourist area.            I'm imagining the beach to be over crowded so apt for the comfort of the garden. The back garden. It's private. The garden itself isn't small. Or large. It just, is. Just average. I've noticed the flowers my step-father planted last year have suddenly come to life given the glorious heat. Notice the emphasis here. Glorious . I am a sun worshiper. So, all sorts of colours line the garden, oranges and reds, separated by standing solar lights. This is my mother's little piece of involvement regarding the garden. My step-father is a gardener you see, so it's our job to stay away from it. They change colour, the solar lights that is. She likes colours, all sorts of colours bright beautiful colours, but if I had it my way they would be plain white. White is a classy colour and wouldn't cont...
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Summer words

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Ten miles until I reach my destination. Clouds high in the sky, sun under a sky that I will never really see. A metallic shine on the bonnet of the car, casts me into an eternity That I also never thought, That I would know. Ten more miles, the radio, so quietly playing. Silence pleases me. My pups still laying, so joyfully upon my lap. Breathing in the summer smells... And sensing the blueness of the sky, black and white, In the pupil of their eye. No cars but mine, to pollute the environment, Wanting to walk, But wishing to fly. Like a swift. In the beauty of the sky. A poem given no words by a beholder, but listened to by many an ear, To take away the words, That I give, And I live. In a community of words. But only as the last citizen. Boneata Bell 12.28PM 15th March 2011
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'Time Out'

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My grandma has been writing poems recently, inspired by myself and Diego's life and our conversations with a little bit of fun thrown in. Grandma and I have been working to have our work recognised for so long. It would mean so much to her if you would read it. Thank you x Two house cats on a winter night, Began to quarrel and then to fight All because of a small field mouse, Accidentally locked up in their townhouse. “I’ll catch that mouse” meowed one cat, The other meowed, “We’ll see about that! Mouse scurried off at tremendous pace, Cats followed him like a bomb hit the place! Diego awoke and hurried to see, What on Earth that noise could be, Mummy had told him, always be kind, To any small creatures, he might find. Followed by mummy, Diego said, “Naughty cats got us out of bed!” ‘Time out’, will teach them to be good, They will behave the way they should!”. They mustn’t fight over a frightened mouse, Who was trying so hard to get out of our house, He opened the door, mouse ...
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