#What do you see #Keepitalive #Poetry

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

 

54e8d593-903d-469c-b15c-dc970d3c312f

 

bc86bc91-943c-4b3b-9b31-e1bbcc2454a7-3580-0000011d215a31c0.jpg

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…

 

dark-1936954_1920.jpg

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 Sunday Whirl ~Wordle 439

banner.jpg

img_1695.png

 

One slim chance to catch the wolf

The chill wind at my back

Nicely scratching the itch

A warm sun tendril illuminating

The ground beneath my feet

My home-made arrow flew

Missing the dark brown fur by inches

He lives to swagger through another day

I allow myself one shot, and that was it

Time up, I will set my cloak

same time tomorrow.

Walking home to the hoot of an owl

I knew tomorrows arrow

would miss its target

There’s no fun in taking

down such a beauty

After all, I am not one of

Robin Hoods merry men

My age is ten, the wolf

and I have grown together

I never stand downwind,

so he knows where I am

We are connected…

©anitadawes 2020

Cold… #Poetry

 

snow-1782614__340.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

Cold

Frost white morning

I slip my head beneath my duvet

No way are my feet moving

From this warm cover

Today I stay hidden from the world

To dream of things to come

A future made of stardust

 With bright green jewels

A land where you leave a wish

Knowing it will come true…

©anitadawes 2020

The 2.40… #Poetry

 

rails-3371495_1920.jpg

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

My Moment… #Poetry

 

buddha-4264589__340.jpg

Image by Pixabay.com

 

A moment of clarity

When mind and body become one

I felt like the young Buddha

Sat beneath the tree

Silver moonlight on dark water

Pulling thought back and forth

Each new thought penetrating

Heart and mind

My soul stands beside me, waiting

For that spark of knowing

That stops ego from thinking

It knows best…

©anitadawes 2020

Circle… #Poetry

stonehenge-1938549_1920.jpg

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

 

keep.jpg

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

Undo… #Poetry

 

refinery-3018039_1920.jpg

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