#FlashFiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

January 14, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about dressing up. It can be a child or another character. Be playful or go where the prompt leads!

I never had the opportunity to dress up as a child
It never entered my head
I was far too busy, swimming, skating
Riding any bike I could borrow
I did have a cut-out book
Where I dressed a paper doll with different clothes
This, however, wore off too quick
I wonder now if it might have been
The lack of imagination, or up bringing
Parents need to understand a child
As my granddaughter does with
my little great grand daughter
I love to watch her run around
In nothing but a hat and wellies
Or her father’s big boots…

© Anita Dawes 2021

This, That, and The Other… #FFFC #Poetry

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #99

The image is from Frantisek_Krejci at Pixabay

Grandad’s aged worn hands
Counting his shrapnel
Saving for his granddaughter’s birthday
Remembering the days when his time
Would have been spent
Looking in shop windows for her gift
These days he is trapped
Telling himself he will see her soon
As they both gaze through their windows
Looking at the same moon…

© anita dawes 2021

Walking Through History… #Poetry

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

Walking through history
I find I have been thrown into a fairy tale
I walk the cobbled streets of old London
Gas lights barely illuminate the dark alleys
Where Oliver learned to pickpocket
I sit beside H G in his time machine
Travelling through lands
I have no words to describe
We cross paths with Gulliver
where we meet strange creatures
Here, a horse may whisper in your ear
You may ride along the great Mississippi
Converse with a young adventurer
called Tom Sawyer
The sights, sounds and smells of yesteryear
Linger long after the stories fade…

© anita dawes 2021

Christmas Memories… #Poetry

Christmas Memories

Old Christmas memories come calling
When snow did lie all around
Snow angels, snowmen, the days delight
Children laughing, presents wrapped
Warm mince pies waiting
Custard stirring in time with Grandads snoring
Mum flapping while dad sharpens the turkey knife
Big brother calling, time to come in to help lay the table
Three of us rush the door together
Managing to squeeze through
Like the pop of a champagne cork flying across the room
We land in a giggling pile of legs and arms
Mother calling, I need help!
I know this isn’t true,
she likes to give us something to do
To feel a part of our Christmas cheer
God bless, Mum… she’s our Christmas angel…

© aniota dawes 2020

Games… #Poetry

Image by Prettysleepy from Pixabay

Games…

here I am in my trusty silver steed
My favourite four-legged friend sitting beside me
I tip my top hat to a lady passing
I have thrown a four, stopping before chance
I can hear the trains at Fenchurch street
Speeding, I narrowly miss a spell in jail
I would have lost the chance to collect two hundred
The wait to get out of jail would be too long
I continue my journey through Regent Street
One of my favourite places to stop and look around
I can see hotels being built
People having sold their houses, now thinking big
In the distance, Mayfair, one of the most lucrative places
To build your first million…

© anita dawes 2020

#BlogBattle: Charm ~ #Poetry

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#BlogBattle: Charm

Blogbattle_CHARM

Old, yet never world weary
Built when a time passed slow
When people could not be asked to rush
Romance meant holding hands
Walking out for months
Getting to know each other
Where a look from across the room
Would have you spellbound
Unspoken words, understood by the heart
So much old-fashioned charm, lost to time
I would wish it back, where a gentleman
holds the door open for you to pass
What charm is there, in todays panicked, rushed world?
I want to tell you that charm remains.
I had a young boy, of about twelve
Hold the door to the chemist open for me
I was bowled over by his charm
I smiled all the way home
How had he learned to be so polite
So charming…

© anita dawes 2020

The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 484 ~ #Poetry

The morning after the party
I found my father’s old tape
In an old cassette player
Alongside a box of tapes
It contained his black wall stories
Press play, his first story, entitled ‘The Child’
Through narrow dark streets
The child ran, her bare feet caked in mud
Something had taken her the wrong way
Her bare feet could hardly hold the ground
Eight-year-old girl, running for her life
Dark shadows behind her
In her tiny hand she held her mother’s key
She is tiring, whispering a prayer
For help, for hope
 She calls for her long dead mother
Where had the small blue light lead her?
Is it safety that awaits her?
To be continued…
I was hooked,
it felt good to hear my father’s voice…

© anita dawes 2020

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #25 Entry Part 4) #IARTG #FlashFiction #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

“Fiction in A Flash Challenge!”

by Suzanne Burke

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Grandpa’s estate revealed a hidden room
Behind rows of ancient stories
Many of which I had read over the years
I wish I had discovered the hidden room
When I had spent time at grandpa’s
Now I cannot ask him about it
Why he kept first editions there I understand
The box of family secrets have left me feeling sad
Now I understand the strange hollow feeling
I have lived with for years
I have a family I never knew about
Their love and warmth
would have filled that hollow space
Why were they kept hidden?
Are any of them still living?
This is my task, to find someone
who belongs to me
that connects me to life to my grandpa
To find out if I belong here…

© anita dawes 2020