Colleen’s Weekly Tank Tuesday Poetry Challenge…


This challenge explores Ekphrastic writing inspired by visual art and/or photographs. Anita Dawes from last month’s challenge has provided the photo for this month’s challenge:

Image by mollyroselee from Pixabay

They say
Hide’s horror
Unspoken pain
Dead things are planted
Dare you enter the bus
Hear soft whispers from dead lips
Spend a night in the broken shed
Where soul eaters wait, shrouded in black
All things swallowed by time, under hot sun…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Anita Speaks…

Anita’s First Rant Post!

Jaye has asked me to put pen to paper, so I apologise in advance if I offend anyone. Sorry!

I am naffed off at the idea of writing!

Everyone, and I mean everyone, the world and his wife, wants their words in print, convinced there are those who want to read them.

It has been said that there is at least one book in each of us, but to me that doesn’t mean it should be written.

Television personalities jump on the band wagon, knowing their name will carry some weight. However, not all manage the transition from actor to writer.

I can think of some that did. Dawn French, Fern Britain, and Judy Finnigan, to name but a few…

Sorry, I am beginning to sound like sour grapes.

Maybe so, but you can’t tell me that publishers are not thinking the same way. Jumping on a tv name to carry the weight of a new writer.

What about all those poor sods who have poured blood on their pages, to be so cruelly thrown onto the slush pile?

It’s a known fact that publishers get it wrong. This has been proven by sending them an already world-famous number one best seller, only for them to turn it down.

I know it’s a hard world to break into. Like a bank of fishermen, there are many that will never get a fish on their hook.

C’est La Vie…


Once bitten by the writing bug, it doesn’t matter how long you leave your pen idle, or your computer turned off, you have been bitten, so you carry the disease, the curse. Your mind being the one thing you cannot turn off.

You write in the dark when you should be sleeping. You carry the unwritten words like a plague.

They push and poke at your grey matter, desperate to be on those clean white pages.

Write the words, you never know if this time, someone may want to pay you for them.

So, hold fire on that bonfire, don’t throw those pages on the flames…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Note from the Editor (Jaye)

We have been busy!

The new, updated and remastered edition of Bad Moon is almost ready to launch…

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 496 ~ #Poetry

Wordle 496

It is no surprise my soul has sunk below the water line

I lost the race to suppress the evil in me.

I had a morsel of hope, for the feeling of shame

Would act like a hand to pull me back to reality.

I would not wait in line to vote that Spring

would bring forth the changes

To prevent my soul from becoming charcoal

It is inhumane to ask the congregation

For more prayers, rosaries spoken on my behalf.

I am beyond redemption…

© Anita Dawes 2021

The Listener

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

I answered a phone call.
I stood hearing words I should not.
The voice spoke with a mouthful of gravel,
Scraping against my eardrums
It’s done, they’re both dead.
I felt as if I had been dropped into a vat of starch.
My body stiffened; my hand glued to the receiver.
I now know the location of the buried bodies,
Not far from where I stand.
Whoever it was on the other end, hung up.
I was left listening to the buzzing sound of angry bees.
Words cannot describe the fear running through my veins…

© Anita Dawes 2021

The Lucky Ones by Mark Edwards #Serial Killers #Psychological Thrillers #Review

The Lucky Ones Kindle Edition

It was the happiest day of her life. Little did she know it was also the last.

When a woman’s body is found in the grounds of a ruined priory, Detective Imogen Evans realises she is dealing with a serial killer—a killer whose victims appear to die in a state of bliss, eyes open, smiles forever frozen on their faces.

A few miles away, single dad Ben Hofland believes his fortunes are changing at last. Forced to move back to the sleepy village where he grew up following the breakdown of his marriage, Ben finally finds work. What’s more, the bullies who have been terrorising his son, Ollie, disappear. For the first time in months, Ben feels lucky.

But he is unaware that someone is watching him and Ollie. Someone who wants nothing but happiness for Ben.

Happiness…and death.

The Lucky Ones is the terrifying new thriller from the #1 Kindle bestselling author of Follow You Home and The Devil’s Work.

About the Author

Mark Edwards writes psychological thrillers in which scary things happen to ordinary people, and is inspired by writers such as Stephen King, Ira Levin, Ruth Rendell and Linwood Barclay.

He is the author of four #1 bestsellers: Follow You Home (a finalist in the Goodreads Choice Awards 2015), The Magpies, Because She Loves Me, and The Devil’s Work, along with What You Wish For and six novels co-written with Louise Voss. All of his books are inspired by real-life experiences.

Originally from the south coast of England, Mark now lives in the West Midlands with his wife, their three children, a ginger cat, and a golden retriever.

Mark loves hearing from readers and can be contacted via his website,

Our Review

I do love a good psychological thriller and have heard so many good things about The Lucky Ones, the twisted tale of a benevolent killer.

While I am reading the book, I wondered why it was so important that the victims had to die like that, The Lucky Ones, the hapless victims chosen to enter eternity with a smile.

Mark Edwards is a brilliant writer, all of his characters are such real, fascinating people. The brilliantly plotted storyline kept me reading into the small hours!

My favourite character was Imogen Evans, the red- haired female detective with an interesting sense of humour.

Victims are killed when at their happiest, the bodies left in their special place.

Why were the smiles so important, and how did the killer manage this?

Empty Streets… #Poetry

I told my story to the empty streets of London
While the stars stood witness to my pain
The day I witnessed Heaven burning
Leaving me with no way home
I fell to earth before the flames could reach me
My story told, before I reached this realm
With so little truth to tell
Yes, my wings are less than white
Because my tongue I could not hold
For speaking out against the Mighty One
Now they are singed beyond repair
I cannot go home without His help
Sorry is the hardest word, it burns my throat
I must find a different way
to find my rightful place among the stars
Leave the empty streets of London
To their own way of sinning…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#MLMM ~ Wordle #228 ~ #Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Let the records show I am indissoluble.
I would survive a sudden dipping in lime.
Some people come up smelling of roses.
I am one of them.
I am anodyne, I would not like to offend anyone.
Better I were pulled through a gathering backwards.
Where I pull my hair, trying to wake.
Ahead, I see a three-sided symbol
with a yellow dot in the centre
I feel my body sway with the low sound of drums.
A strange triple style beat
The echo rings back to my sleeping mind
Where I stare at my profile in the mirror
Wondering where the other of me has gone…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#Whatdoyousee #Keepitalive #Poetry

What do you see # 66 – January 25 2021

Image credit; Teslariu Mehai @ Unsplash

( For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a person wearing a paper-bag over their head. Words ” Photo shop” are written by hand on the bag)

I don’t need Photoshop to stick my head in sand.
With todays problems, face masks,
Oh excuse me… coverings!
Wash your hands,
run if you see a human walking towards you!
There are days when its best to become an ostrich.
Head in the sand, arse in the air
I’m sorry folks, I’m having a s – – t day.
Where I cannot feel or think the way I should
My son says, pull yourself together, mother.
You’re made of better stuff.
Take the bag from your head,
look at the world with different eyes.
You cannot hide forever.
In my head, I am saying, shut up, I can hide
until the world is put to right
Or take myself off to Photoshop for a revamp…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 492 #Poetry

Blind justice has left its vicious whip marks on his back.
Cheers from the crowd, loud in my ear
I feel myself sway,
knowing I cannot settle the payment asked for his release.
The chain replaced; he is lead away.
I call upon my father, the door is closed in my face.
Who can I tell
about this wicked web of lies against Jack.
I send for help,
my brother might be able to talk sense to my father.
I know it will take a month or more
Before I hear from Frederick
If he cannot come,
Jack will be hung for theft that has become murder.
He did not commit either crime.
Strange justice, blinded by the roar of the crowd…

© Anita Dawes 2021