Fragmented Time… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

I am resurrected from dying dreams

 

From the ash that surrounds your world.

Like your Frankenstein, I am made from many parts

In my hand I hold the glowing fragments of time

Dark clouds hide me from the sun

Nothing works the same where I am

Rain flows upwards, the stars shine in circles

Wind blows only from the north

The moon rises when and where it pleases

Day is night, night is day

Things change in the blink of an eye

Our numbers are few, our world is fading

In order for me to remain in the universe

I must steal one fragment of time

Hide the remaining parts for humanity to find…

©anitadawes

 

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Pixabay.com

 

The Others… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

The Others

When you leave your bed in the morning

Be sure to smooth out the line

Your body left behind

For there are others who wait

To steal the warmth from your soul

Should they manage to occupy

The space you vacated

Your soul turns cold, a shard of ice

Stealing the warmth from your heart

Turning your footsteps from the path

You were meant to tread

Strange winds blow through your life

While others slowly take form

Until there is another lying

In the line where you once slept…

©anitadawes

Wordle ~ 424 #Poetry

 

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Scratch the year 2049 from your calendar

The discount has been discounted

There are no longer any on-line purchases

Finish reading your book now

Your granite walls are no longer safe

Your single mindedness has sunk the ship

The heat, the oil, has seared the world as we know it

We will not see 2050 in the same light

Nor see with the same eyes

Or feel with the same heart

To carry on.

It’s life, but not as we know it…

©anitadawes

Beware… #Poetry

 

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The ghost in the mirror

Spoke to me

His breath from the other side

Frosted words on broken glass

Beware the footsteps behind

Days pass, warning forgotten

New mirror on my wall

Fresh words reappear

Closer now

I felt the mirrors pull

My eyes looking from the other side

I should have tidied up my room

Things the mirror cannot hide

Now I live behind the glass

Beware the mirror hanging on the wall

The footsteps come from inside…

                               ©anitadawes

Before Sin… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Before I am born, I am forgotten

I carry sins for the world.

I share them out like sweets

As a mother would for her children.

Each must have his own portion

Without sin, the world turns to ash.

There must be crimes, murders

Catastrophes to swipe man away.

Space on your world is not infinite

I do not choose who receives the larger sin.

Like the scattering of seeds or rain

I let them fall where they may.

I am not here to judge man

Only to see evil done by his hand.

Nature has her own way

Of sending evil to keep numbers down.

Pandora will tell you hope remains

That morning light will confirm.

There are no saints among you

Each has been given their own kind of sin.

Whether in thought or deed

I am sorry to say is the way of life.

Good and bad, yin and yang

Decided from the very first spark…

©anitadawes

#Wordle ~ 423 #Poetry

 

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We bought the house for a reason

No noisy neighbours as we back on to a graveyard

From my bedroom window, I imagine all sorts

At night, with a half-moon hanging low

Shadows shifting under a pale light

How many stroke victims lie beneath the cold earth?

What of murderers shot by the police

Some nights I hear the grunt of wild animals

Most likely hedgehogs

The wind carries the distant wail of someone in trouble

Too far away for me to be of help

Some nights I stand there too long

I need to stamp my feet to get the blood flowing

I often wish I had the courage to jump a train

At our local rail line, walk the streets of London.

I hear there will be much to feed my imagination

I don’t have time; it is my turn to help with the flowers

For midnight mass

I put the keys on the bedside dresser to remind me

Before I leave my window, I notice a flash of light

Level with the large grey stone that stands alone

Next morning with the keys in my pocket

I decided to have a look before flower arranging

I stood in front of a black marble headstone

The date read 1809 Margaret Stone, died aged 49

I felt sorry for her short life

Nothing strange here, where had the light come from?

Maybe the vicar, checking all’s well

As I turn my head to walk away

I noticed the words had changed

It now read, here lies James Young, died aged nine

This happened three more times before I could move away

Finally, my imagination hit a wall, it was something

I cannot explain or talk about

They would think me mad, call for the men in white jackets

As I was arranging the flowers

I wondered why they had all died so young

Was the gravesite like a multi-story building?

Occupants on top of each other

Did I have a glimpse of those who had been buried before?

I knew I couldn’t ask anyone

With all that running through my mind

I managed to do a good job with the flowers…

©anitadawes

Jaye’s Journal ~ Week 39

 

Jaye's Journal x12

 

Where I find out just how patient I can be

After having both cataracts removed from my eyes over the last few months, I have waited patiently for them to heal. In many ways, this was not a pleasant process.

My vision gradually became so much clearer and the increased amount of housework I have been doing will bear testimony to this. (the house is a lot cleaner now, as I tackle all the grime that I haven’t been able to see before, with or without glasses)

This new development is ironic in a way, and only serves to emphasise the fact that I still cannot see that well to read or use the computer.

I will still need glasses for close work, but until my eyes have healed, I must wear my old ones which aren’t working any better than before. In fact, my eyesight seems worse when I wear them as the prescription is wrong.

Doing anything became a tiring and depressing struggle as my new eyes constantly fought against them, and I couldn’t wait to get them changed.

Waiting to see my optician has been a frustration I could have done without, but finally the day arrived.

She was impressed by the level of improvement in my eyes and declared that my distance vision was now 20/20. My near vision has also improved substantially too, and I will need a much weaker prescription.

All of this was wonderful news, of course, but now I must wait for these new glasses to be ready, but eventually, the waiting will be over.

Talking about waiting…

I am having a little trouble organising the launch sequence for my new book, Silent PayBack, and if I don’t get my act together soon, I will miss the opportunity of successfully marketing it before Christmas. It has been the wrong time to finish a book, what with everything that has been going on (or not going on, if you see what I mean!)

It has taken me so long to edit and do all the necessary stuff that most of the joy has fizzled out along the way. I have been running on stubborn determination most of the time, I can tell you!

Right now, I am wrestling with the content of my launch newsletter that will coincide with the pre order date. I have been trying to understand the finer points of Mailchimp, the people who hold our subscriber list, but it seems the harder I try, the further away the answers get. Something I have never understood, so no change there!

Once, I did attempt to change to Mailerlite, who are supposed to be more user friendly, but didn’t get past the sign-up page. Now, I’m not stupid, (says she confidently) I can sometimes be slow to grasp the finer points but usually manage to get there in the end.

 

Although, I get the sneaky feeling that this may be another aspect of growing old, whether I like it or not!

 

#Tuesday Book Blog: Secrets by A.Dawes #FamilyDrama

 

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SOME SECRETS WILL KILL YOU…
and some are about someone who is already dead.
A mother must find the truth before the secrets destroy her family…

Excerpt

Maggie heaped three spoonsful of brown sugar into the frothy coffee, and Scott gave a gentle tut-tut as she watched it slowly slip through the bubbles.

Watching her stir the coffee for longer than was necessary, he asked, ‘Shall I fire questions at you or will you volunteer your troubles to old Scottie?’

The softening of his name was only for those he considered his true friends and he listened without interruption while she told him all about the nightmares, the mess in the kitchen, Danny’s destructiveness, burying Jack’s stuff in the garden and all the things that Danny attributed to his imaginary friend, Toby.

Scott pondered awhile, and then said, ‘You of all people shouldn’t think it so strange, where would you be without imagination, Maggie?  Pulling groceries on a check-out? Not that it’s a disgrace; someone has to do it… Danny is developing his mind, maybe he’ll be a great artist like his beautiful mother, or  write the books Jack couldn’t… then he’ll need all the power of his inner mind, much the way you do.’

She looked deep into her empty coffee cup as if it were a crystal ball. ‘Maybe I could believe all that if he were happy, Scott, but he’s not. He’s so moody and goes days without saying a word to anyone.’

She related Cathy’s story about hearing a dog in the car, and Scott looked puzzled.

‘From what you’ve told me about her, I’d say she’s prone to flights of fancy and you shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. It could have been anything, like that wretched noise when you speed past those wooden poles along the road. Maybe there was something stuck to the wheel of her car. Noises you would normally recognise have a way of sounding strange when you’re cooped up inside a tin-can on wheels.’

She didn’t believe Scott’s explanation, but it was enough to put a little doubt in her mind, she realised that she hadn’t thought the situation through as thoroughly as she might.

She didn’t tell him about the bite-marks and scratches that appeared on Danny during the nightmares until last. It wasn’t really all that bad, not enough to draw blood but marks none the less.

‘Could he have done it himself?’ asked Scott.

‘Yes, but he denied it.’

‘Someone at school, a fight? Boys get into them all the time.’

‘I don’t think so. Danny told the doctor that this Toby did it. When we asked him why he hadn’t said anything to us, he just shrugged his shoulders and clammed up. We’ve been advised not to push him too hard.’

Scott could see how worried she was, but he couldn’t really think of anything to allay her fears, real or imagined. It was high time to lighten the mood. Catching Kelly’s eye, he ordered two more coffees with hand gestures.

‘God knows what you’ve been letting your mind get up to, Maggie darling, but as far as I can tell, there are only two explanations. He either did it himself or he got into a fight and didn’t know how to tell you. There are times, darling when a young man can’t run to his mama. Losing a fight would be worse than telling you he had been in one in the first place…

‘Maybe that’s all he’s hiding from you, and as for the rest of it, it’s plain old-fashioned mischief born out of the sheer frustration of keeping things locked inside…’

~~~~~

 

Secrets

Danny’s secret goes back in time

How is this known to a child of nine?

No one believes him when he speaks

Of buried treasure the earth still keeps.

Yet stranger words are said in sleep.

His mother hears his sleeping moans

Afraid now, how can he know

Of secrets buried so long ago?

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