#Flights of Fancy: The Gift #Poetry

flights of fancy.jpg

The Gift

I found a pebble in my shoe today

How it got there I cannot say

A little blue pebble to call my own

I am sure it needs me to bring it home

I placed it on my windowsill

Where the sun will shine

A magic eye, my young son said.

By morning it was beside my bed

No one said they moved it there

No matter, I said. It did not move there by itself

It seems to roam where it may please

Where I place it, it stays not long.

My husband said to throw it out

I made him swear to touch it not

Magic comes by cosmic hands

It’s not for me to understand

To know it is meant for me alone

I like this magic in my home

To question why, would blow the magic out…

©Anita Dawes

Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge #Etheree #Poetry

This week, Anita has excelled… not just an ordinary Etheree for Colleen’s Challenge, she has attempted a double Etheree poem! I am impressed, how about you?

 

tanka-tuesday-fall.png

 

oct-tanka-tuesday.png

graphics-witches-921374.gif

Double Etheree:  TIME

Soul

empty

Lost dark star

hands held slow dance

Love song remembered

Time flies and we grow old

Dark empty space left behind

To love lost long ago, tears shed

Slow handheld time rhythm left alone

Let no soul remain to cry at windows

As I am passing by this empty life

I stand all alone to shed my tears

Tears shed too long in fruitless pain

Vacant phantom I once said

Sunken life is depressed

Void the empty shell

I left outside

incomplete

searching

done

©Anita Dawes

 

The Power of Believing…

 

fantasy-2231796_960_720.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

I have always been fascinated by dragons since I was a child, where myths and dragons were the order of play. Maybe there is a Welsh strain in my DNA somewhere!

I have a small stone plaque with a skeleton on it that I bought years ago when I was in Cornwall.  I really should move there, I love the place so much, but there is a problem. I can’t for the life of me decide which I like best, Cornwall or Wales. Decisions, decisions!
This plaque is supposed to have the bones of a baby dragon embedded on it, but it’s probably some kind of lizard. Most of the time I prefer to believe that it is real.

As writers, fantasy is basically what we are about, so I think I more than qualify!

Enough of all this dragon whimsy, and back to the subject of this weeks post.

Is there some kind of power in believing? I must admit I have a certain amount of trouble believing most things at face value, and that probably makes me sadly lacking somehow, or just stupid?
Surely not.
Why can I believe there were once dragons on this planet, but have trouble believing what people swear to me is the truth?

It does depend on the person of course. There are some people I wouldn’t believe if they swore on a stack of bibles, but when my granddaughter tells me that she loves me and that I am wonderful, I tend to believe her! But honestly, I think it must boil down to our common sense. I think that if something seems logical, it is probably true. Or is that just my stupid brain?

I recognise that I have a problem in this department and I blame all the people who have lied to me in the past. Too many, I fear.

It is astonishing the things we do insist on believing. Like I choose to believe that my writing will get better if I work at it hard enough.

And maybe it will, simply because I believe it…

©Jaye Marie

#Wordle Puzzle 373

 

banner.jpg

 

img_4748.jpg

 

Locked In

My life has only just begun

Yet I am stuck between two worlds.

I have a need to forget, to alter my thoughts

This ordinary cafe where the waiters sing

Let me in, with no way out

Mother told me never to hit

“Talk, let them see you.”

She has no idea, the mood

Of those that hold me here.

I smell revenge, the air thick

With a need to spill blood, my blood

My will is weak. I have no strength to act

I need a weapon to fight for freedom

This is not my world

Whitewashed walls, pills to make me sleep

Sunlight blinds these walls of white

But my mind can see the place to be.

Outside, I see my mothers smile

She sits in shade beneath our tree

That father planted when I was five.

My world is there, by her side.

Voices tell me she is not there

I took her life when I was ten.

Can this be a dream that keeps me locked in?

I pray that fate will not charge me to live it over again…

©Anita Dawes

#Writephoto: Bone

Another #writephoto challenge from Sue Vincent…

 

skull.jpg

Image by scvincent.com

writephoto.jpg

 

Bones 

Bones whisper, from the desert sand

They whisper from the ground we walk.

We dig them up, their stories told

Graveyards planted, bones of white

Long lost souls lay still at night.

Some will walk again, their day not done.

No help among the living

Their bones will call them back.

Fortuneteller bones in hand

Will tell what you need to hear.

In the end, bones will be

All that’s left of you and me…

©Anita Dawes