Image by Jaye Marie
Image by Jaye Marie
#SilentSunday…
#Shadows
To Be Myself… #Poetry
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From her Mind… #Poetry
From her Mind
I have in my many years seen shit float
Heard it speak many languages
So the other day I was surprised
When my granddaughter asked
“Nana, if the moon takes light from the sun
Does she cry tears of gold?”
I was taken back by this for a moment
Unsure how to answer
“I believe the moon has shed tears of many colours
Over the millions of years, she has sailed across our sky.”
She seemed content with my answer.
Aged six, I wondered where her thoughts came from
She carried on with her painting
Later, I placed her small picture on my fridge
The full moon in a dark sky, below, the land
a strange quilt of many colours
A twisted kaleidoscope
As I looked at it, I wondered
What kind of adult she will become…?
©anitadawes
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The Voice of Chaos… #Poetry
Image from Pixabay.com
I am hell
Where I walk there is fire
The kind that burns within
Have you missed me?
My children of Earth
Have you lost inspiration?
During my absence
Are your desires diminished
By the void I left
Do you still worship gold?
Your flashy cars, beautiful women
Do you still twist the knife?
In your neighbours back
To gain an advantage
Do you long for my return
To carry you from the wilderness
Free you from the yoke of goodness
I fan the flame of desire
Of chaos, you need only to follow…
©anitadawes
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#Wordle ~ 429 #Poetry
Looking at the thick diamond crusted sky
It’s true what they say about the dark
It moves, there’s something living within
Slowly marching across my lawn
Holding my warm glass of milk
I like to look at the world outside before bed
The edge of my glass tasted salty
I wondered if Mrs Mack had been
Preparing her supper before bringing it to me
I knew she would take a glass of her favourite brew to bed
No looking at the stars for Mrs Mack
That would be a waste of good sleep time
How much beauty does she miss with her practical mind?
The way my luscious green lawn looks almost black at night
Standing there, reminding myself to write the cards for the gala
By rights, I should have written them yesterday
Clouds fell away from the face of the moon
Changing the lawn from black to silver
Chasing some of the dark shadows away…
©anitadawes
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Love remembered… #Poetry
Image by Pixabay.com
Love remembered
Something familiar disturbs my sleep, my thoughts
Knowing is not enough to reveal all
It feels old, far away out of reach
Yet demanding, needing to be found
Understood, remembered
Music I don’t recognise steals part of my day
Strange scent assails the air, faint, almost recognisable
The way of passing someone wearing perfume
as if walking through a half-remembered fog
Leaving sticky fingers on my memory
Nails clawing the dark corners of my mind
Where the knowing hides
My dreams like the dark spaces
I remember him, but sunlight washes it away
All but his voice, my name whispered from his lips
Wait for me, I will return
This voice I know from the many lifetimes past
Why must love be lost like ships passing
Can destiny be tricked to let us love again…?
©anitadawes
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#Writephoto ~ Glow
Thursday photo prompt: Glow #writephoto
Image by scvincent.com
Meet me one last time to watch the sunrise
Before the blood of the Gods is taken
By the light of day
Their eyes blind to the beauty
Their own fury creates
They trust so little in love
Feuds erupt when it turns in on them
A beautiful maid becomes a reed
Another sent to Hades
Heroes born from forced labour
Where would we be without Hercules, Achilles
Helen and the many hearts she broke
So many stories born
where the sun breaks through
Where would we be without the dawn
And our imagination
I for one, would lose all inspiration
May the battle of the Gods
Continue creating…
©anitadawes
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#FlashFictionChallenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry
November 7, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes Water Walkers. It does not have to be in the Anishinaabe tradition; in fact, it would be more interesting to see interpretations from across all nations and walks. It can be a title or used as a phrase. Go where the prompt leads!
Water has a memory
Especially when it comes
to trying to wash the world away
Down some metaphorical drain hole
Flooding seems to drag all water together
It’s hard being reminded that there are many
Taking the water walk to survive
When so many take their hot and cold taps for granted
I remember my grandmother walking out of the house
To the pump room where she would carry her bucket
the three flights to her two small rooms
From preparing food, washing, cleaning house
she would need to take the water walk
I like to walk beside her…
©anitadawes
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Empty Space… #Poetry
Image by Pixabay.com
Empty Space
I need you here in my world
How do I claim a soul taken too soon?
If I slam on the brakes, fly through the windscreen
Would I find you in the dead zone?
In my half state, would I be able to hold on to you
Bring you back
Does the memory of me live with you still?
Do you hear me calling late at night?
For one last moment
One kiss, one touch of your hand
Our daughter is calling
Daddy, I’m hungry
I am called back to my own world
By the sound of her voice
There is an empty space walking beside me
An outline of you I cannot touch…
©anitadawes
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#BlogBattle: Harp #Poetry
November 2019 Blog Battle
Our word this month is:
HARP
You can start writing at any time, but make sure you post your story by the 30th of the month to have your story shared here and on social media.
Once you’ve posted your story to your blog, put a link to it in the comments section, and we’ll add your story to the Battle Stories Line-up post.
Make sure to check back and read some of the stories of your fellow battlers. Leave comments to encourage these writers, and share each other’s stories!
From the Heart
I was waiting for mum to tuck me in, tell me my bedtime story
She never read from a book, at times I wondered if she could read
The best stories come from the heart she said
Tonight, I want to tell you about the sacred willow tree
The fey folk make their harps when the moon is full
The goddess making sure that enchantment graces the strings
Building a mystic bridge between heaven and earth.
One night, when the full moon hid behind dark clouds
the chief harp maker discovered his golden harp had been stolen
This harp was never designed to be played by human hand
Should they be foolish enough to play the magic strings of the twilight harp
Like that moment between dark and light
They will find their souls struggling to stay in their own world
So, be careful when buying a second-hand harp
The music you play may be too painful for heart and soul to hear
You may find yourself in the land of the fey…
©anitadawes
