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
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
#TankaTuesday Weekly Poetry Challenge No. 255: #Tastetherainbow
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…
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.
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.
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…
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
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
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