Your Inner Eye… #Poetry

The image is from Sarolta Bán Photography.
Your Inner Eye


This forest of trees my son
Is a tribute to all the great artists
who walked the earth many years ago
There are those that paint 
The star filled skies
Jewels that dance above our head
Like Van Gogh's Starry Night
Monet painted the ground
Gardens to dream in
So many of us do not have the inner eye
To see the beauty
To have the desire to capture on canvas
Without the hands that held paintbrushes
The world would be a duller place
Not forgetting, the many that decorate 
The churches, cathedrals, places of worship
With a little added inspiration of coloured glass
If you can feel it in your heart
You might find your inner eye…

© Anita Dawes 2021

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 536 ~ #Poetry

I need to leave this room
Any cloud will do
To slide past the rock tavern
My fist clenched
I speak of what I wear
As if I am a story
A blend of words spoken
By a witches circle

© AnitaDawes 2022

Mindlovemisery’sMenagerie ~ #Challenge #Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Champagne bubbles kissed my nose, 
reminding me of last night’s French kiss. 
I lost her in the crowd, my dark-haired beauty. 
Please God let me find her.
With no chance of hailing a taxi,
tenacious is now tattooed on my brow.
With a grimace on my face, 
I turned my collar up to the sound of fireworks. 
My red mustache dripping rain on my chin, 
flustered, pushing my way through the crowd 
trying to find her. I need a second kiss. 
One will not quiet the caterwaul, 
the silent howling in my head.
Why had I let her slip from my hands?
A New Year's gift from the Gods I must find…


©AnitaDawes2022

Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge

#TankaTuesday Weekly Poetry Challenge No. 255: #Tastetherainbow

Image by Pixabay Poem by Anita Dawes

MLMM ~ Wordle 270 ~ #Poetry

Do I steal extra days from others?
I let my thoughts fly, escape
With the lyrics of my favourite song
Waiting to crystalise in a new world
In the distance a fire pit glows
My thoughts thrash back and forward
Needing to land where Jasper stands
I feel my heart drip cold blood on the pole below
I am hostess of my own deception
Looking for an angel not nailed to the cross
Whose wings are not so white
A depiction of thoughts still to come…

© AnitaDawes2021

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow…

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Yesterday

Yesterday my life felt as though it was hanging on a hair. What could go wrong, did.  I couldn’t think straight, I dropped things, walked into doorways.

One of those days when I should have stayed in bed. Mind you, I probably would have fallen out of that. Thank God yesterday is over.

Today

I have the bull by the horns, or so I think. I start by tidying up, do the washing while the drying is good, then read a good book before trying to write a bit. So far so good, the washing is on the line, kettle on, coffee made. I do my best thinking while reading a good book.

Tomorrow

Let tomorrow take care of itself. But we don’t. We try to lasso it into place. Make it what we want it to be. It rarely turns out to plan and we can thank the cosmos for that, then fate steps in. The future is already out there, how else could we walk into it? Nowadays I don’t plan ahead too much. I let the cosmos surprise me…

©AnitaDawes2021

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 525 ~ #Poetry

The sky blushed a ring of scarlet light
Dusk had spread its mantle, the air damp
Fright night below, trick or treat
Played as in the past
A black velvet bat perched on the church roof
As the clock chimed midnight
The floor inside the nave red with blood
The local priest lay spread out
A ghoulish version of the bat above
Who, among the faithful disliked the sermon?
Who felt his sins exposed?
Who worried that Father John
Was about to break the confessional vow?
Who among the meek and mild
Had so much to hide?
Let the trial by whispers, the pointing fingers
Begin…



© Anita Dawes 2021

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 524

I watch the game of battleships 
drop in slow motion
Pieces scatter across the carpet
I sit, get the young ones to pick up
Before the beautiful monster known as my wife
Enters the room
I cover the room with my eyes
Making sure each piece is back in place
I chase a fly around the table
Keeping it from settling on the fruit bowl
Time counts down as the battle zone is clear
No need to wave white flags of surrender
All is normal as she enters the room…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Whose Tomb? #Poetry

There is nothing worse than an empty box, 
let alone an empty tomb.
Who did it belong to, where are the remains?
The writing didn’t help much
Ideas have been lit.
The monk’s thoughts are running like a forest fire.
The Abbey is bleeding money
The townsfolk have even less
They need something to get the two together
Soon enough, the tomb is cleared away
It had never existed
The monks dig close to a large oak tree
stories start flying like the plague
Giant bones are found of two people
The male bones seven foot, the female, 
six feet with the remains of red hair
whispers became a loud call for the Abbey
People came from miles with copper in hand
To see King Arthur and his Guinevere

© Anita Dawes 2021