One mind… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

One mind

I am still here, writing words

that bleed into the universe

Looking for greater meaning

To find a like-minded soul

To share the agony with

To fill the space between four walls

With conversation, understanding,

Two minds wired the same way

Each giving to the other

Finding ways to understand the impossible

Wandering through the universe

And back again, in time for tea…

©anitadawes

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

#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

The Devil’s in the Detail… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

The Devil’s in the Detail

Between my fortune and dreaming

I am disappearing, sinking in quicksand

There is one dream that lets me know

I have escaped this fate.

I dream it over, trying to remember every detail

The house, her face,

the date on the calendar on the fridge,

circled in red my name inside.

The dream fades too soon, I wake,

the date two years from now my only hope.

I see myself inside the house

Pictures on the wall, my wife my children

I wake happy, knowing I have survived the quicksand

My last dream let me know

I should read the signs with greater care

Laura, my wife had left the calendar on the fridge

For sentimental reasons.

The new calendar hung under the clock

On the back wall

The date circled in red had marked my passing…

©anitadawes

Confused.com

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Image by JayeMarie

Anita told me this morning that Sue’s #writephoto image this week will be a bunch of trees.

She had just finished painting one of her flower frogs in copper, when I showed her the picture. She promptly went to lie down in a dark room as she says she cannot take much more of these universal coincidences. Trees and the word copper?

I wasn’t going to do anything with it, but I had the impulse to put it out there.

This kind of thing happens to her so often, she feels she should be able to do something useful with it.

Any ideas?

 

#Wordle 422 #Poetry

 

 

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I watched as my seven-year-old daughter carefully pressed

the dirt around the small plant her grandfather had given her

She spent hours choosing the right spot in our back garden

Job done, she sat, turning something over in her hands

Calling her for a glass of orange, I asked what she had found

She opened her hand and there lay a tiny bone

That looked like a child’s finger

I remembered the stories my grandmother had told

My father said they were nothing but lies

No more than the evil imaginings of an evil old woman

I cannot deny my grandmother often went into a daze

I had no desire to collude against the truth

To find the stories were more than smoke and mirrors

That a child had been buried where my daughter had been digging.

It would take a fair bit of grift to saw my way through the roots

Of the large oak tree that stood where my daughter had knelt

My husband agreed to help, rather than look foolish

Taking the bone to the police station

It turned out the bones we found belonged to my family

Which made me wonder about the other stories’ gran told

Turns out she wasn’t as daft as they would have me believe.

If she were here now, she would say she held the trump card

I told you that one day the bones would return…

©anitadawes

Old Magic… #Poetry

 

 

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The Chalice Well, Glastonbury

 

Old Magic

Does Merlin wait close by the great tower of Avalon

Where Arthur sleeps waiting to be called

To save us all from holy hell.

Healing waters close by, where many go in search of blessings

Does the holy cup lie beneath the Chalice Well?

Will the truth of these long-loved stories ever be known?

Fantasy, legend, who can tell?

Stand on the broken castle wall of Tintagel

Feel the old man of the woods, his power dancing in the breeze.

A touch from centuries gone.

You may walk home feeling two or three inches taller.

That’s the magic of a long-loved story

Medicine for the soul…

©Anita Dawes

Inside my mind… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Inside my mind

In my imagination

Like Ali, I am the greatest

I fly with eagles

Sale the river on the back of a black swan

Cross the Amazon in a single bound

Build the pyramids single handed

Rediscover the lost library of Alexander

I know all the secrets in the Vatican

I read the minds of our great inventors

This one was heavy going

They do not think the way we do

Discovering new worlds for humanity to live on

Hoping this time not to mess it up

I have had ten minutes all to myself

Back to work now

Tea to cook, family home

Washing to be done

Homework to be taken care of

I wonder what I will get up to tomorrow…

©Anita Dawes

Legend… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

The day was painted with excitement

Like electricity falling from our fingertips.

The air crackled and the wind changed colour

Helping us see which way to follow

To find the fabled bird of legend

Identified with the kingfisher.

The winter solstice is upon us

We wanted to see the wind and waves

trapped by the legendary bird.

Would the wind vanish, would the waves iron out?

leaving the ocean like a sheet of blue glass

Would all beneath still be moving

unaware of the magic taking place above?

Anita Signature