From her Mind… #Poetry

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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

The Voice of Chaos… #Poetry

 

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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

#Wordle ~ 429 #Poetry

 

 

 

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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

Love remembered… #Poetry

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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

#Writephoto ~ Glow

Thursday photo prompt: Glow #writephoto

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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

#writephoto

#FlashFictionChallenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

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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!

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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

Empty Space… #Poetry

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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

#BlogBattle: Harp #Poetry

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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!

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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