Fortune Teller…

Sunday Writing Prompt “Fortune Teller”

Fortune Teller
mindlovemisery.com

For today’s prompt we are going to try our hand at fortune telling. Use whatever method we like. Make a prediction, make sure to address the audience for whom your predication is intended. The audience can be the whole world, it can be a friend, family member, yourself, or a specific group of individuals. We can also write about a specific historical prophet or fortune teller such as Nostradamus. Fictional stories work too!

Before waking, I knew
I had to tell someone something
My mind itched with the importance of it
Yet I could find no words
My mind, wrapped in sleep
I remembered walking over
Three playing cards yesterday
Stuck on the wet pavement
One of diamonds, the money card
Two of spades, the double cross
Plus the ace of hearts, love
What message was I trying to tell myself?
Remembering those wet cards…

©anitadawes 2020

#Keepitalive ~ #Whatdoyousee

What do you see # 36 – 29 June 2020

Image Credit- Pixabay- Ariadne-a-mazed

(For visually challenged reader, the image shows a camera capturing the image of a woman in color, while the rest of the image is in black and white. There are lots of tools on the wall behind the camera)


Behind the camera
The world fades to black and white
No amount of tools
Hanging neatly on the wall
Can bring back
the lost colour to the world
That the wizard has taken,
To mend his broken heart
She, held by the lens
Betrayed his trust
Trying out stolen magic
She broke his world…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Dream

Thursday photo prompt: Dream #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a pale pathway meandering through a field of purple heather towards the green of distant hills.


When your soul needs a recharge
Take a trek through a field of wild heather
Feel the soothing purple dream time
wash over you. Let your mortal eyes
see beyond the pale path
To new horizons
Hold on to everything you love
Grab each chance as it comes
Let tomorrows troubles
Run like water beneath your feet
Keep looking to the stars…

©anitadawes 2020

#Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge…

Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 184, #SpecificForm

WELCOME TO TANKA TUESDAY!

It’s the fifth Tuesday of the month! This is our chance to work with a specific syllabic poetry form. Take this opportunity to learn more about the particular form.

This week’s form is:

Haibun


I shall build my home high above the trees on flat mountain rock. Where family may come if they want to follow. Sunday lunch as before, I wait to hear their knock on my door…

My castle built, stands

Cold inside I sit waiting

No knock do I hear…

©anitadawes 2020

This is Anita’s first Haibun, and we both hope it is correct…

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 462


Dreaming of cotton candy days
Through a cacophony of birdsong
I pull my bed cover to caress my chin
Can I stay in bed today?
Colour my thoughts
As to who I want to be tomorrow.
I hear the blackbird call
This takes me back to childhood
Conkers and sunshine
Oh, how I covet yesterday…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Silver #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Silver #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a beach in the half-light, bounded by dark dunes and holding a silvery pool of water that mirrors the sky.


I was beginning to think
I had left my mind out on the rain
It’s beginning to rust
Like some old hard drive.
Time to take a walk
Grab the flip flops
Feel wet sand
squidge between my toes
That magic moment between
Light and dark
Maybe I will be lucky
Find that silver doubloon
Hidden on the beach.
I stood watching
the sky painted water
Feeling something more
than sand between my toes
Could it be, dare I look?
Whatever it might be
I pushed it further into the sand
Something to look forward to
Tomorrow…

©anitadawes 2020

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 461

Nothing had changed since the last time I was here.

The same chill in the autumn air, the smell of wood smoke from the campfires.

I made my way to my favourite camp site, nestling in the shelter of the mountain. I was far enough away from the crowds who always gathered at this time of year, all yearning to see the thousands of Monarch butterflies gather before starting their migration.

I alone knew the perfect place.

I followed the stream beside the old logging trail, with birdsong for company, each twist and turn increasing my anticipation.

Finally, I stood in the secret glade and looked around, thrilled to find they were already here. Every tree was covered in a blanket of living leaves, thousands of colourful butterflies at rest, barely moving in the slight breeze.

I held my breath. Had I chosen the right moment?

As if some signal had been given, the butterflies slowly took flight, soaring up into the sky, leaving me with mixed feelings of joy and sadness in my heart…

© JayeMarie 2020

#FlashFiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community…

99 words, no more, no less. It’s a simple constraint, an easy-to-master literary art form, and a powerful writing tool for creatives and entrepreneurs. Writers calibrate the usefulness and beauty of 99-words through weekly flash fiction challenges.


The sight of spring flowers
pushing me back to the sixties
Where we believed in liquid bliss
Not the bottle kind
It’s something in the air
It washes over you.
Dark days drop away
Days when we wore flowers in our hair
Music, smiles on people’s faces
Especially on the faces of my grandchildren
When I speak about the old days, strange clothes,
like the bell bottom jeans, the mini skirt.
Nowadays, I walk home washed over
With good vibrations
From the smile of a stranger
who offers to carry my shopping bags
I look for tomorrow…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Soar #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Soar #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a sky full of dark, stormy clouds against which four large birds are silhouetted in flight.


Dark clouds
Dark fallen angels
Painted by my father
Locked for weeks inside his studio
I would leave food outside
Never see it vanish
Empty plates returned the same way
As if by magic
My father had become invisible to me
All but his voice.
Like the four horsemen
Let these black winged creatures
Enter our world
Hearing his voice this way
Gave me the chills.
Could my father be
calling evil into the world?
After he died, mother said
We should burn it
Send whatever thoughts he had
Back to where they came from.
I could not.
The painting hangs in my studio
Where I hear my father’s voice
As I paint dark clouds…

©anitadawes 2020