Dark Gods… #Poetry

Dark Gods

There are Gods that have no light
They live in darkness
Dwell on sorrow, feed on fear
They drop nightmares like rain
We never feel them enter our minds
We never see the dark shadow
that falls across our soul
Nor hear the dark composer of our thoughts
When fear calls, we stand to attention
Dark whispers scratch the mind
Push us forward when we should turn away
How hard is it, to just say no…?

© anita dawes 2020

Buried Ghosts… #Poetry

Image by Martin Winkler from Pixabay

Buried Ghosts

Mountains high
Old dark scars
Black tar rivers run
High castle walls
Lords and Ladies having fun
Unearthly sounds split the night
Warning went unaided
Fools entered
Swallowed by dark inner walls
Never would angels enter
Indoor evil attracts its own
Walls scarred by sounds new, swell
Souls buried in old castle mortar
Too long they lie forgotten
Names scratched on walls
Calling out dates to remember
No visitors heeding
Their hearts unturned
By old news…

© anita dawes

Stepping Back… #Poetry

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

Stepping Back

The road ahead is long, hard to walk alone
The world has eclipsed my mind
I am swallowed by darkness
The black hole reaches for me
Dragging my senses to its upside-down way of being
The mirror shows me walking away
I never see my face
The food on my plate is raw, never cooked
I am living in a nightmare
Rain runs up, the way it does when driving a car
Fascinating, but no place to live
I need to find a way out
Step back, keep stepping backwards
Until I reach the beginning
Discover that missing step…

© anita dawes 2020

What does it say?

Doodled by Anita Dawes

Here I am, in the living room
Watching TV, reading a book
today, the book lay open on my lap
Pen and paper at my side
As a word spoken can set me off
Yesterday, it was the word destiny
Something I have just read
Rewrites itself to end up in a poem
Not today.
My mind went on its own journey
This doodling isn’t something I am known for
I wonder what it says about me.

© anita dawes 2020

#Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge

WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 203 #EKPHRASTIC #PHOTOPROMPT

It’s the third week of the month! Time for an Ekphrastic #PhotoPrompt

This challenge explores Ekphrastic writing inspired by visual art (photographs). Diana Peach from last month’s challenge has provided the photo for this month’s challenge:

What
happens
When a ghost’s
pale white image
she sees reflected
With the tears she lets go
Does her wish stir the waters?
Dark hides tiny creatures whisper
When given a heart, let her be loved
Will the magic of the woods give her life?

© anita dawes 2020

#Keepitalive ~ #Whatdoyousee ~ #WDYS ~ #Poetry

Keep it alive

What do you see # 56 – 16 November 2020

Image credit; Phmaxiestevez @ Pixabay

(For the visually challenged reader, the image shows a young woman looking out the glass pane of a partially open door, with an indecipherable expression)

She stands in shadow
As if afraid of colour
One half of the door
Formed in soft orange light
She looks outside
Trying to decide her fate
Is today the day she walks
Through that half open door
Will she pick up the fallen reins of her life?
Will suspicion, doubt, rule the day
Could a soft voice passing say hello?
Move her footsteps
Does she want the outside
To come into her life?
Her grip on the door whispers
I intend to stay in the shadows
Where I have control?

© anita dawes 2020

Grandma’s Attic… ~ #Poetry

Image by Pixabay.com

Grandma’s Attic

I felt lucky when I inherited my grandmother’s house
I loved every minute spent there as a child,
each visit felt like a two-week holiday
My grandmother made life fun
I could feel her spirit in every room
Joe, my fiancé, loved it as much as I did.
He was the first to enter the attic
There we found paintings of every size
Dozens of them, from a long time ago, no signatures
 There were four paintings of my grandmother
Much younger than I had known her
Her eyes sparkled with the same mischief I remembered
Who was the artist?
I imagined a dark-haired Latin lover
someone Grandmother never spoke about
We discovered more behind a large painting
My grandmother in the embrace of a woman
Scant clothing between the two of them
Surprised, as she had been married to grandad
For fifty-five years. Who was this woman?
Were they lovers as the painting showed?
Joe said they were good enough to put in an exhibition
I’m sure Grandmother hid them here for a reason
Least of all from Grandfathers eyes.
I may never find the reason they were hidden for so long
My search goes on, for there are dozens
of boxes and suitcases to look through
What I find will be a story for another day…

© anita dawes 2020

Standing Stones ~ #Poetry

Image by Pixabay.com

Standing Stones

I don’t know if I found this almost hidden grotto 
With its raging water, or if fate led me there
The water washed over a small altar
An offering of standing stones
To their ancestors or an ancient God
A message, a prayer, for thanks or help
I may never know.
I was fascinated by the four stones 
standing on top of each other
Perfectly balanced in harmony
As if meant to hold each other up
Varnished to a shine by running water.
I wondered about the person 
who had walked away
Did the universe answer his hopes?
Is his or her life better for having taken the time
To remember the ancient ways?
Leaving my own four stones
I believed my own prayer would be answered
I could feel the hand of the universe
At my back, guiding me home
Happenstance, or fate,
Such a strange thing…

© anita dawes 2020

#Twenty Four ~ #FiftyWordThurs ~#Poetry

Twenty Four

Words and Images of Imagination

50 Word Thursday #96

96

And the words:

“She had little doubt that she was about to suffer the same fate as Elizabeth.” – Midnight Pleasures With A Scoundrel – Lorraine Heath

© Deb Whittam 2020

The dark, navy strip of water may look calm
No one thinks to tell you, to warn you
Of Elizabeth, the unknown woman who sails the waters
Taking life as she sees fit
It’s company she seeks
It’s lonely when no one can see you
Until you become as she is, dead.
Hayley took her new boat to the water for the first time
No stranger to the strip of dark water
There are many tales, stories
None strike her as more than urban legends
Today, the river felt darker, different, foreboding
The current stronger than she remembered
Her boat engine cut out and she drifted to the spot
Where the stories began
Cold crept up from her feet, she had little doubt
that she was about to suffer the same fate as Elizabeth

Her boat seemed to take on a life of its own
Ben, fishing on the bank, noticed
The strange way the boat rode the water
Securing his rod, he ran alongside, shouting for the captain
Seeing her on the far side the moment she fell in
Her life jacket failed to inflate
He took a running dive, saving her from the fate
the blue lady had in mind for her
The boat secured; all was well that day
Like the number nine bus, there would be another boat along soon
The lady would not have to wait long for her new companion…

© anita dawes 2020