Inside my mind… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Inside my mind

In my imagination

Like Ali, I am the greatest

I fly with eagles

Sale the river on the back of a black swan

Cross the Amazon in a single bound

Build the pyramids single handed

Rediscover the lost library of Alexander

I know all the secrets in the Vatican

I read the minds of our great inventors

This one was heavy going

They do not think the way we do

Discovering new worlds for humanity to live on

Hoping this time not to mess it up

I have had ten minutes all to myself

Back to work now

Tea to cook, family home

Washing to be done

Homework to be taken care of

I wonder what I will get up to tomorrow…

©Anita Dawes

Mirror… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Mirror

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

Is it the many other parts of you?

Is it the shadow of your childhood

standing behind you?

How many of those young dreams

still beat inside your heart?

Does the grey hair remind you

of the inevitable?

Old dreams become new,

you no longer look for yesterday…

©AnitaDawes

#Wordle 420 #Poetry

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Justice, no more than a roll of the dice

An acid tongued judge, passing judgement

On other people’s lives

Often without knowing the true story

As to how this poor soul stood in the dock

I leave the jury room, outside, the hail hits me

On the back of my neck

I act instinctively, run for cover

Safe, I scratch the back of my neck

It feels sore. Acid rain maybe.

I know where I would rather be

I need to burrow under my duvet

Forget the world, for me it often runs too fast

I hate the feeling of being the one

To tamper with someone’s problems

I judged him guilty on the evidence given

Too fast, his life now behind bars

Maybe I will bake a cake with a file hidden inside

So, he can hack his way to freedom

No one knew I had been living with this man

For the past ten years, on ill-gotten gains…

©Anita Dawes

Longing… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Longing

I search distant lands for beauty

Sacred sites fill my eyes

Yet none remain in beauty

My feet cannot find

The image held in mind

I have no words to tell

From whence it comes

To haunt me

My heart so filled with longing

For beauty’s eyes to see me

When darkness comes

Her light surrounds me

I sleep in the arms of beauty

Morning light steals her from me

With hollow heart I continue

Must I die in search of beauty?

©Anita Dawes

Weekend Trip x2 #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

We seemed to be the only people

Sitting in this sun filled cathedral of tall trees

The rock warm beneath me

The space whispered of ancient times

Secrets I wish I could hear

I wondered if the stone I held would speak to me

I heard a loud splash, as if a stone

had been thrown into the river

Looking carefully, I could see no one

I took this as my answer

The stone was mine

I held it in my hand like a sacred treasure, a gift

I wonder what secrets

it might whisper to my waiting mind

I might have to wait a while

As I am not good at meditating

If anything comes, I will let you know…

©Anita Dawes

 

Weekend trip … #Poetry

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Weekend trip

On my weekend trip to Cornwall

Walking through the woods

On a carpet of mica

As if walking on fallen stars

Looking for stones beside the River Fowey

I found a strange blue stone

With thin gold stripes

Perfectly square, two inches by two

We sat awhile with the sun bleaching

Through the trees, asking the spirits

Of this sacred space if I could

Take the stone home with me

I waited for a sound where none should be

For my answer…

©Anita Dawes

Continued on Sunday

#Writephoto ~ Poise #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Poised #writephoto

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The image shows a leaf-strewn flight of stone-cut steps descending into a hole in the ground. Poised to ascend…or descend… is the dark silhouette of a strange figure…

Old Ones

 

An ancient creature whose face is hidden

Behind the mouth of a cave

The sound of footsteps

Is his home about to be invaded?

If captured, he would become a specimen

In a zoo.

It’s life, but not as he knows it

Nor wants it to be

He cannot run or blend in with the garden

He lives in

A secret place he believed would shield him

Keep him safe

Footsteps too near now, his heart pounding

Is it men with a gun as he had seen years ago?

When he had been left as a baby to fend for himself

Too small to be seen

Not this time, it is a female of his own kind

He cared not where she came from

His loneliness is over

Now he will block the inner opening with boulders

So, they will be free, safe to live their own way.

©Anita Dawes