#What do you see #Keepitalive #Poetry

What do you see # 13- January 20th, 2020

 

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Image credit; Pixabay

 

No Change

In the stone circle stands a chance

To split dark from light

Offering the world below, fire

The blue moon whispering a warning

They are too young, they are not ready

Let them find their own way

You come too far from the future

To understand their way of life

Why hurry things along

When you have no way of knowing

What they might discover by time alone

Your world is driven by speed

Theirs is not, they hunt for food

They live, they are happy

Some might call it fate

I call it interference

As it has been through the ages

Name one culture that has been

Allowed to walk its own path

Wars, famine, floods have changed so much

Of what might have been

For once, I would like to see

Where they would travel by themselves

Without interference

I hear you all shouting

It was meant to be…

©anitadawes 2020

Outside…

 

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Image by Jordan Stimpson from Pixabay 

Outside

When morning shadows fade

I shrink back into darkness

Forgotten until daylight

When I can once again search

For the one who stole my lifeforce

While I was dreaming me.

Yet, he has no face, not fully formed

I must be quick before he takes

More from the shadows

To become the one I am meant to be

Leaving me in darkness

Never to step into the light

To find my own form

To live outside my own form

My own shadow…

©anitadawes 2020

The 2.40… #Poetry

 

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Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

 

My father, a staunch academic that never flaps.

At breakfast, I met a stranger at the table

He spoke at a speed I had never heard before

I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

He didn’t ask, so much as forbid me

to take the 2.40 train from Paddington.

Asking why his voice became calmer

I don’t know if you have heard this story

Or remember it from the newspapers

One year ago, a young man just turned eighteen

died on that train in the third carriage

It’s said he may return on the anniversary of his death

To sit in the same seat for three weeks

In the hope of finding the part of self

we all leave behind on being born.

He waits for the other half, the missing piece

To sit on the seat opposite the door.

When the right person takes that seat

He becomes whole, having entered the sitter.

There are many tales of what takes place next

You have just turned eighteen, I am asking you please,

Take the earlier train to your next job?

Seeing how much this meant to my father

I agreed, and kissing his cheek, I left for work

I felt a little odd approaching the station

Standing close to the edge of the platform

I waited that afternoon for the 2.40.

I remember asking my father why I couldn’t just

Take my journey in the second car

Father said it was best to avoid the 2.40 all together

As curiosity gets the best of some people.

I could hear the train approaching

I stood where the third car would stop

I could see a grey outline of someone sitting

in the seat Father mentioned

There were no discernible features to this mass

Shaking my head, thinking my father’s story

Must have gotten into my mind

I felt a connection, a longing, something remembered

I remembered my father saying that a soul mate

Was not someone you search for in life

It’s the missing part of self.

I knew what this meant, for I had often felt

Lost lonely unsure even when falling

in love with a boy from College

A few minutes of happiness that doesn’t last

Leaving me with the feeling of being unwhole.

Now that I have felt that missing part

I would break my word

I will sit in that seat tomorrow at 2.40

Let the missing part enter

See what life will bring…

©anitadawes 2020

Circle… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

Circle

Old stories whispered on wet afternoons

Do they contain a kernel of truth?

Are the stones more than man has made?

Late at night when the moon is full

Energy pulled from the stones

Blue flickering light

Can the fate of Merlin be seen?

Dancing in the circle?

I see mischief by magic made…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Keep #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Keep #writephoto

 

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Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows the ruined tower of a castle, seen through the cross-shaped window of another tower.

 

I am cast in stone

Chained beneath the castle walls

My soul yearning to be set free

The dark cross sentinels

Guard the three remaining towers

So many come,

they gaze upon my fallen walls

Never hearing my voice

No mind open to hear my plea

From the fall of Camelot

I have tried to let them know

There is a way to set me free…

©anitadawes 2020

 

#writephoto

#Tuesday Book Blog: Blue Lake Christmas Mystery (Blue Lake Series)  by Cynthia Harrison #RomanticSuspense @CynthiaHarriso1

 

All Holly wants for Christmas is to prove to her parents that her pricey college education was worth it. When she lands a reporting job in tiny Blue Lake, where the chill winds blow off Lake Huron all winter long, and a guest dies at a dinner party, she isn’t sure she can meet that goal. Holly has a second writing gig as a true crime reporter in mind, but there’s only one problem: the new love interest keeping her warm is determined she should not write about the one thing her heart desires.

Bob has one goal: to get his life back on track after a train wreck of a relationship with a fragile first love named Lily. Oh, it would also be nice to feel excited about work again. Not to mention Christmas. Holly’s new in town and she stirs something cheerfully seasonal in him, but when he realizes she’s willing to take down Lily for her own purposes, he decides a holiday romance is the last thing he needs.

 

Our Review

 

Towards the end of last year, I noticed the arrival of several seasonal books on the run up to Christmas. Most of them a fun, light-hearted read for the holidays.

Blue Lake Christmas Mystery is so much better than that.

A clever, well- written mystery that twists and turns, with a fast-moving complicated plot that I couldn’t put down and I loved how the last chapter sorted out all the loose ends!

Holly Fass is ambitious, devious and hopeless at getting what she wants out of life in this Hollywood style romcom/detective novel, but she gets top marks from me for trying!

This is book four in the Blue Lake series, and I was late coming to the party as I hadn’t read any of the others. (something I will be catching up on soon)

I have also read and thoroughly enjoyed Cynthia Harrison’s brilliant detective thriller, Lily White in Detroit.

 

A word from the author… Along with a twenty-year career as an English teacher, I have been a staff reviewer for Romantic Times and Publishers Weekly and written features for popular magazines, including Woman’s World. BLUE LAKE CHRISTMAS MYSTERY is my fifth novel for The Wild Rose Press. I live in metro Detroit with my husband, Al. We have two grown sons. Since 2002, I’ve blogged at http://www.cynthiaharrison.com. Email me anytime at cindy@cynthiaharrison.com. http://www.cynthiaharrison.com

 

 

 

 

 

Undo… #Poetry

 

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Image by M C from Pixabay 

Undo

In your blood

I have written your end

I am not death but

You know me

Yet cannot pronounce my name

I have circled the Universe with stars

So many, you cannot see them all

Their number is how long

Man shall remain on this planet

You are my children

My favourite toys

If I could start creation again

I would rewrite the end in your blood…

©anitadawes 2020

The Monastery… #Poetry

 

 

The Monastery

The monastery of Evette, built high

on a rocky outcrop beside the village of Lorraine

The village folk would take food baskets

Leaving them close by each morning

One monk was put in the basket and lowered

then hauled back up with food gathered.

It had been this way for many years

The monks would pray for the villagers

According to the messages laid in with the food.

After five days of the food laying untouched.

The villagers stood, calling for the basket

with no way to reach the monks

The villagers knelt, prayed, feeling lost

With no one to pray for them

An hour passed, with no monk to be seen.

The youngest, strongest of the villagers

Decided to pull himself up

To look for the monks.

What he found would stay with him

Lowering the basket for the villager elder

Hauling him up to a sight never seen.

The twelve original monks sat in a circle

The bodies perfectly preserved

The village became a place of pilgrimage

Food was often left at the foot of the mountain

This vanished each day, as it has always been

The villagers believe their prayers are still answered…

©anitadawes 2020

#Keepitalive #Whatdoyousee #Poetry

What do you see # 11 – January 6th, 2020

 

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Free image on Pixabay

Time

I have come a long way on liquid light

To find this old castle

Is it the one I’m looking for?

Will this burning path lead me

Out of its dark walls

To a world outside I remember

Lush green trees, rolling hills

My home beside the sea

Will it be as it once was?

Companionship, love and laughter

Will I finally be able to place the sword

Back in his hands where it belongs?

Are they still there, or must I journey on?

To find the Lady of the Lake

To throw the sword again

into its dark watery world

to wait for time to turn back…

©anitadawes

 

It’s lonely out here in the inter-ether…Talk to me people!

#Wordle 437 #Poetry

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Have I been careless with my life?

There were no takers to give me an answer

It would seem I have to stay in this place.

I thought of my family and knew my life matters

I continued walking, hope high

tree branches slapping my face.

Pushing my way towards the light

I can hear machines popping beside my ear

A nurse stood at the foot of my bed

Holding a chart. I am done for, I thought

Stuck on this weird blue planet

With no birdsong, no sight of people

No traffic outside my window

I felt like a flat pancake against the sheets

All the air taken from my body

I awoke to the gentle slapping of my mother’s hand

Against my cheek. ‘Your alarm has gone off,

you were dreaming sweetheart,

I have made egg on toast for breakfast.’

Thank God for mum

I might have to stay in this strange world

Where I don’t belong…

©anitadawes