#Poetry: Unborn…



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In a blink of an eye

My life was gone, another standing by

The face the same.

My thoughts too strange

No name as yet, I am unborn.

A mother waits somewhere below

If only someone would let me go

A life I would lead, I would give them hell

For having broken my soul in two.

I will strike them once, they will know

I am back to take what’s mine

To send them all down below.

Heaven is empty, they still don’t know

The only fire burning

Is the one we lit so long ago…

©Anita Dawes

#Poetry: Turning…




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As the world spins, I travel backward

Searching, never finding all I lost

New things pop out of me

I take a second look, they hold no comfort

Old things suit me best, it’s you I need

To keep the glue in place

I travel further back in time

Returning to where I started

Until it’s me I find…

©Anita Dawes

#Poetry: Empty



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No child at play, the swing stands still

This hallowed ground of childhood

A vacant lot, no entry here

Tomorrow’s sale board will soon appear

How can danger be imagined

When laughter still lingers here?

The voice inside screams

Let the children play once more…

©Anita Dawes

#Wordle 370




The cat- o’- nine– tails flashing through the night

A distant memory, a crime, yet not mine

Are the Gods telling me of a time long ago?

Or one yet to come?

What crime holds my mind in thought?

I cannot change what has been done

Still, I fear it is yet to come.

Silver chains bind me

To something yet unseen

My back aches with memories long forgotten

Its root grown back in time, a cosmic hand

Some strange design, are they my thoughts

Or from another’s mind?

How many lives do I get, is it nine?

Some back in time

How many left, no one can tell

I fear strange magic is afoot




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Snow lay crisp, while I lay frozen

The world spinning without me

No voice recalled, my name forgot

A life lead in darkness, no light do I see.

No hand to hold, to stop me leaving

All memories held within this box.

The lid so tight above my head

Entombed within earths frozen womb

My soul released, to wander forth…

©Anita Dawes




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The hour is late

He will come

He will take me

As before.

His movement slow

Almost too much

My mind is frozen

At his touch

My body quivers

Soaring high

A lover’s kiss

A lingered look

No daylight hours

Can this touch…

©Anita Dawes

Anita’s Time Machine…



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Mr Edwards ran the baker shop not far from where we lived, and Mum would often send me for a fresh loaf, warm in my arms, smelling like heaven.

All the way home it was so hard not to take a bite. I did once and that was enough. The best thing for us kids was the fish and chip shop. If we took in an armful of newspapers, we could walk home eating a free bag of chips.

On hot days, we could get a cold drink from Mr Tom’s sweet shop. He offered one-penny drinks or a small one for a halfpenny. When you had been running around, it was better than popping indoors for a drink of water, for Mum would ask why was I so hot, and what had I been doing. Spending that halfpenny was best.

It was always easy to come by a penny or two. Take the rubbish out for Mrs Kindle, or sweep the yard for old Mr Wright. I ran many errands and often earned enough to go swimming and buy a bag of broken biscuits on the way home. For a penny, I could spend all day in the paddling pool.

For five pennies, I could spend an hour in a tin canoe rowing myself around the small island in the middle of the pond. When our time was up the man would call us in by our number and I always wanted canoe number 5.

Oh, for a time machine so I could take my kids back and show them how I lived and how I played…

Anita Dawes

#Short TitBits…




In the days of Moses, the cruel hand of the Lord

led Moses a merry dance across the wilderness.

Moses followed the dance

Searching for the land of milk and honey.

When poor Moses found it

The Lord shut the door in his face.

After forty years of following the merry dance

Moses lay dead…

Anita Dawes

#Wordle 369




In the valley of shadows, I lay her down

A love that could not stay.

As I drive away, instinct reminds me not to speed

Her letters in my back pocket would give the game away.

The only child of a poor Bedouin, cursed at age ten

To never stay for more than a year and a day.

There comes a stage when life’s raffle takes all breath away

Your numbers up, the spirit calls

The buzzer sounds and down you fall.

Before my strength is gone

I will finish what I started.

My words blow across the valley floor

I tell her that I will not leave her there

I will wait a year and a day

Find a way to break the curse.

I promise her we will live together

For more than a year and a day…

Anita Dawes

Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community


99 words isindeed a challenge, but so worth the effort!





What is it good for, not eating.

Throw it at the wall, see if it sticks.

Leave it until it falls off, give it to the kids to play with.

Oh, wait a minute they have already done that.

My granddaughters have used it for school projects

Picture frames you cannot dust…

The Italians love to tell us it has to be Al dente, the bite.

The thought of eating pasta makes me want to run for the hills…

And I know it’s well-loved across the globe

But seriously, why was it ever invented?

Does it grow on trees?

Anita Dawes