All Paths Lead Home #Writephoto ~ Together #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Together #writephoto

 

 

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Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows the sun painting a golden pathway across the sands and sea.

 

All Paths lead Home

The pale-yellow orb hangs

low against the shoreline

Jason has dragged the golden fleece

Across land and sea

His many adventures mirroring

The twelve labours of Hercules

Stories he is eager to tell

When he reaches home

Of giant men made of stone

Seas that boil

The Gorgon, her hair of snakes

Do not look, she turns flesh to stone.

They are tired, hungry

More monsters assault their path

They fight on, home is calling

The king waits for his prize

Like Hansel and Gretel

Jason and the Argonauts

Follow the golden path home…

©anitadawes 2020

 

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Change, Stays the Same…#Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Change, stays the same

In the land of what if

You get to take a different train

Meet new people that end up feeling the same

Turn left not right, did this change anything?

Late for work you catch the bus just in time

No matter the change of circumstances

You end up back where you started from

Because it’s the right starting point for you

What is meant for you?

Cannot pass you in its many forms

Don’t waste time

In the land of what if

Tomorrow could bring something

You are waiting for…

©anitadawes 2020

The View from my Writing Desk…

 

 

 

Although we live in a town, it isn’t an inner-city town. Tucked behind the South Downs in Hampshire, we are just 19 miles from the sea.

An ordinary town really, rows of streets spreading out from the town centre with all manner of shops and businesses. The local council keep it tidy and provide us with well-kept trees, bushes and green areas.

Sometimes, if you know where to look, you can find something special here, something that doesn’t quite belong. Hidden among the sprawling streets, small treasures can be found. Little rivers emerge unexpectedly, creating a magical atmosphere. ( I have recently found another such treasure. Post to follow…)

We have such an oddity in our back garden.

We all have trees and bushes in our gardens, but we have a giant gum tree. Far taller than our house, it dwarfs every tree for miles around.

It seems so much supple than other trees and maybe this has something to do with it being a gum tree. The leaves smell faintly of eucalyptus and it has such a graceful way of moving with the wind.

I watch this tree most mornings as I wait for my brain to warm up, but this morning we had the aftermath of Storm Eric.  The wind was fierce, so the view from my window was dramatic. Strong gusts tried to break the tree, viciously pushing and shoving until I thought one would give way. But the branches were so supple they simply danced away, ducking and weaving like a Whirling Dervish until the wind abated.

We could learn a lot from trees. Most of them have been here longer than we have and will remain long after we have gone. They survive, I think because they simply do what they were born to do and they do it well. They take what comes in their stride (so to speak) patiently waiting for the seasons to change or the wind to stop blowing.

A lesson for us all there, I think…

He’s still there… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

He’s still there…

I found him, way up above the stars

Was I dreaming when he spoke to me?

You have searched long and hard

To find the old wizard on your earthly plain

Now you see me in my true form

I come to you in dreaming

For one day you will work with me again

As it was meant to be

I will leave a ring for your small finger

Turn the stone once widdershins

I will be at your side

Your search was never in vain…

©anitadawes 2020

 

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#Writephoto ~ Wistful #Poetry

 

Thursday photo prompt: Wistful #writephoto

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Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows the early morning mists rising over an empty moorland scene beneath a soft pink sky.

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Soft Morning Mist

Stand still awhile on this empty moorland

Let the silence wash away yesterday

Feel the pull, as if walking backwards

To an old time, an old world

Beneath the soft pink blush of sunrise

Morning mist, the sweet damp kiss of angels

Do you remember when bliss was all you knew?

When you lived in my house…

©anitadawes 2020

 

 

To be warm again… #Poetry

 

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Image from Pixabay.com

 

To be warm again…

A lone traveller with companion comes

Beneath sunsets blaze

Stories he must tell for food and shelter

Will curl your toes

Churchyard graves where death never sleeps

Church bells ring, candles lit

Cannot keep these souls at bay

They seek the warmth of living things

This storyteller moved on fast

Not wishing to stay where

Sun’s warmth never touches skin

His story be true or no

The cold he felt moved him on

Their stone white faces in memory stayed

As he ventured to pastures new

Where more stories await their telling…

©anitadawes 2020

Seeing Double!

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Image by Jaye Marie

Yesterday morning, we were in the office working when Anita’s attention was drawn by what looked like a moving leaf on the path outside our window.

Nothing strange about that, I thought but she had to check it out anyway.

Turned out to be a slightly ragged and battered Peacock butterfly. He was staggering around and seemed quite weak, so we lifted him to the table and supplied him with some sugar water.

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Image by Jaye Marie

 

This seemed to do the trick and he eventually flew away. I wondered how he had become so ragged, as the weather was calm. Maybe he was the kind of butterfly that hibernated, which might explain his condition.

When I googled it, I discovered that Peacock butterflies do hibernate, so mystery solved!

Later on that day, I was confronted by another Peacock butterfly. This time on Sam Allen’s website, Peacock Poetry. 

 

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Image from Peacock Poetry

 

Coincidence?

I don’t believe in coincidences, do you?

 

©Jaye Marie 2020

 

Back to Darkness… #Poetry

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Back to Darkness

From the jagged opening of my cave

I see the Atlantic Ocean

washing the orange sentinel.

Fresh growth crowns the head

My small view on the world

For I cannot leave my dark abode

Spellbound by greed, envy

She means to keep me here

for her own amusement.

When strange visitors enter,

I try to make myself known.

I pray for one intrepid adventurer to hear me,

for I can tell them how to set me free.

When the tide is out, my true love walks

From the cave opposite knowing I am here,

she can neither see nor hear me.

My torment doubles

I can no longer make myself known to her

When the tide returns

She must go back to darkness

Until the day comes

When the one standing in my dark space

Hears my voice…

©anitadawes 2020