Crazy… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Crazy

Do you suffer as I do?

With a melody in the back of your mind

With words you cannot find

Taking the 45 bus to Brixton

A middle-aged woman in the seat behind you

Humming the tune in your head

Do you ask her, only for her to say

She has no idea why it’s in her head

Days later you’re passing a building site

Where the tune is being whistled

by a burly bricklayer.

He too cannot answer your question

A child in the playground, skipping to your tune.

You end up standing in a record shop

Humming it for the assistant

He places an EP on the record player

It’s the tune from an advert,

no longer stuck in your head

The title of which was ‘Many Rivers to Cross.’

It almost drove me crazy

I wondered if we had all crossed the same river…

©anitadawes

 

Is it a Plane?

 

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Image from Pixabay.com

I had awoken before dawn again and stood at my window, searching the velvety night sky for the first signs of dawn. That barely perceptible lightening of the blackness that seems to happen almost without warning.

I found myself staring at a star, defiant in its lingering and as I watched, it seemed to be moving. My eyes must still be clinging to sleep for it couldn’t possibly be moving.

But it was.

So very slowly, it crept across the sky. I strained to see if it could be a plane but could see no flashing lights. As I watched, mesmerised, it seemed to grow bigger, which meant it was getting closer to me. I stared at the star, desperate to see what it could possibly be.

When the flashing lights appeared, I knew it must be a plane, or maybe a helicopter. But wait a minute. I counted several flashing lights all in a row and as far as I knew, planes didn’t.

Fascinated, I kept watching. The sky was beginning to lighten, revealing the outline of the craft. It did look like a plane now, but not one I recognised and far too small for a commercial airline. It glided slowly past my window, all the lights twinkling like a Christmas tree until I couldn’t see it anymore…

©jayemarie

The Voice of Chaos… #Poetry

 

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Image from Pixabay.com

 

I am hell

Where I walk there is fire

The kind that burns within

Have you missed me?

My children of Earth

Have you lost inspiration?

During my absence

Are your desires diminished

By the void I left

Do you still worship gold?

Your flashy cars, beautiful women

Do you still twist the knife?

In your neighbours back

To gain an advantage

Do you long for my return

To carry you from the wilderness

Free you from the yoke of goodness

I fan the flame of desire

Of chaos, you need only to follow…

©anitadawes

Love remembered… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

Love remembered

Something familiar disturbs my sleep, my thoughts

Knowing is not enough to reveal all

It feels old, far away out of reach

Yet demanding, needing to be found

Understood, remembered

Music I don’t recognise steals part of my day

Strange scent assails the air, faint, almost recognisable

The way of passing someone wearing perfume

as if walking through a half-remembered fog

Leaving sticky fingers on my memory

Nails clawing the dark corners of my mind

Where the knowing hides

My dreams like the dark spaces

I remember him, but sunlight washes it away

All but his voice, my name whispered from his lips

Wait for me, I will return

This voice I know from the many lifetimes past

Why must love be lost like ships passing

Can destiny be tricked to let us love again…?

©anitadawes

Empty Space… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Empty Space

I need you here in my world

How do I claim a soul taken too soon?

If I slam on the brakes, fly through the windscreen

Would I find you in the dead zone?

In my half state, would I be able to hold on to you

Bring you back

Does the memory of me live with you still?

Do you hear me calling late at night?

For one last moment

One kiss, one touch of your hand

Our daughter is calling

Daddy, I’m hungry

I am called back to my own world

By the sound of her voice

There is an empty space walking beside me

An outline of you I cannot touch…

©anitadawes

#BlogBattle: Harp #Poetry

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November 2019 Blog Battle

Our word this month is:

HARP

You can start writing at any time, but make sure you post your story by the 30th of the month to have your story shared here and on social media.

Once you’ve posted your story to your blog, put a link to it in the comments section, and we’ll add your story to the Battle Stories Line-up post.

Make sure to check back and read some of the stories of your fellow battlers. Leave comments to encourage these writers, and share each other’s stories!

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From the Heart

I was waiting for mum to tuck me in, tell me my bedtime story

She never read from a book, at times I wondered if she could read

The best stories come from the heart she said

Tonight, I want to tell you about the sacred willow tree

The fey folk make their harps when the moon is full

The goddess making sure that enchantment graces the strings

Building a mystic bridge between heaven and earth.

One night, when the full moon hid behind dark clouds

the chief harp maker discovered his golden harp had been stolen

This harp was never designed to be played by human hand

Should they be foolish enough to play the magic strings of the twilight harp

Like that moment between dark and light

They will find their souls struggling to stay in their own world

So, be careful when buying a second-hand harp

The music you play may be too painful for heart and soul to hear

You may find yourself in the land of the fey…

©anitadawes

Colleens Weekly #Poetry Challenge

Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 152, #Poet’sChoice

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

One

Snowy

Christmas night

I heard Santa’s

Reindeer on our roof

Mum said I was dreaming

Telling day two lights are out

So he would need to check the roof

While you are there, dad, please look for prints

I believe Santa’s reindeer left their mark

Watching dad climb the ladder, fingers crossed

Dad changed the bulbs then climbed two rungs

Good as his word, he checked for prints

Someone has been here for sure,

can’t tell if they’re deer prints

I watched dad reach out

Climbing down now

He gave me

A brass

bell

©anitadawes

What Do You See prompt November 4 2019…

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What Do You See prompt November 4 2019

 

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Dark Moon

 

The white witch tree

Sails across the darkness

Driven by lightning

Waiting while the ghost moon

Devours the light

Trying to reach the world of man

Soft white clouds

Hide a darker purpose

To bring evil into being

To tear down your walls

Destroy what man has made

To break the children

Before the light claims them

No good can be done

When darkness lives inside their souls

The white witch must break free

from the spell she is under in time

to see the world of man with light

until then, our world remains in half-light…

©anitadawes

#Wordle 428 #Poetry

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My mind is in crisis over the card I received this morning

The lies, the silence, his friends cover for him

I remember hearing whispered conversation

Realising now that the person who sent the card

Wants me to know my husband is having an affair

Is it the woman herself who wants me to know?

I resign myself to the fact

Truth melts away under scrutiny

The late nights make sense now

The lame excuses, the strange scent

Lingering on his clothes

His excuse for that, laughable

It’s like a thunderstorm hitting me all at once

Am I grateful for the unknown author?

Ripping the scales from my eyes

After twenty-three years of marriage

Now I feel only disgust at myself, my ignorance

Lit by a postcard, delivered by an unknown hand

Why did they want me to know?

Not a friend, they would have come up and told me straight

One thought came to mind, was it

Someone he’s past over for this current lover

How long, how many?

I don’t think I’ll stick around to find out…

©anitadawes

November Fiction Prompt from Carol J Forrester… #Poetry

November Speculative Fiction Prompt

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Image by Carol J Forrester

Light

An abandoned garage

A temple to youth, their artistry

Dark painted columns speak of moments past

The hissing sound of spray cans

Mingled with laughter

Has anyone noticed it’s a place of two halves?

Beautifully rounded columns on the left

Lit, not by the distant window

On the right, the columns are in shadow

A lonely figure of a man walking through

His gait seems heavy

He’s searching for something in the graffiti

A message from a lost sweetheart

Her initial plain to see, a large B

Was she here, did she leave more to be found?

A reason for leaving.

Continuing his slow walk

her beautiful face shining behind him

The reason for the light, his heart heavy

Her message has gone unnoticed…

©anitadawes