No Hope… #Poetry

Reposting Anita’s lovely poem because due to a colour disaster the other day, no one could read it!

Apologies !!!!


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No Hope

No children’s laughter from the park

The streets are cold and bare.

I see the devil all around

No angels in the air.

Life has played its game on us

The devil wears the crown

Where are all the promises

Our fathers handed down?

The green and pleasant land

With birds that sing all day.

Why has heaven closed its gates

And left us all to pay?

In the book of promises

God said he loved us all

And now the book of judgment

Has made its final call…


Runaway Train…




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Runaway Train

Someone once said, “Stop the world, I want to get off…”

The other day that sounded like a very good idea.

I didn’t think I could ever be that defeatist. All I need, I think is a slightly slower train.

Have you ever wished that you could leap off the train that is rushing you towards oblivion?

I have… so many times.

Better to be moving, if only slowly, than stranded by the wayside, I thought.

But I was wrong.

I continued trying to keep up, watching life thunder past me, while kidding myself that if I stuck at it for long enough, I had to reach a few glory moments.

Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?

The only thing I learned, is that unless you change something, a detail here, a method there, nothing will change. Patience has almost been my downfall.

I kept telling myself that I would catch up, I would manage to squeeze more work in if I just kept going and hoped for the best.


Of course, nothing has changed. I spend my time checking emails, posting and checking social media. On the rare occasion I sit down and open my WIP, my brain refuses to work. Inspiration has deserted me and it was not a pleasant feeling.

Trying to write interesting posts has become almost impossible, so I started cheating.

Old posts were dug up and dusted off, but this didn’t help my mood. Depression nibbled at my heels.


This mood continued, slowly spreading into other areas of my life. I told myself it was okay if I didn’t keep up the maintenance of my beloved bonsai. They were closing down for the winter anyway and didn’t really need me.

Housework had been sliding, but I cheated there too. If I didn’t wear my glasses around the house, I couldn’t see the grime accumulating.

Then the nibbling on my heels turned into a gnawing and I knew I had been kidding myself for long enough.

It was time to stop hoping for the best.

Time to pull up my socks and get cracking.

Time to change my routine, find one that works and the time to do it in.

There are so many ideas in my head, so many things I have yet to do. I am not ready to slow down yet, so I must learn how to work on a speeding train.

I have a book to finish for a start…

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#Tuesday Book Blog: Secrets by A.Dawes #LiteraryFiction



and some are about someone who is already dead.
A mother must find the truth before the secrets destroy her family…


Maggie heaped three spoonsful of brown sugar into the frothy coffee, and Scott gave a gentle tut-tut as she watched it slowly slip through the bubbles.

Watching her stir the coffee for longer than was necessary, he asked, ‘Shall I fire questions at you or will you volunteer your troubles to old Scottie?’

The softening of his name was only for those he considered his true friends and he listened without interruption while she told him all about the nightmares, the mess in the kitchen, Danny’s destructiveness, burying Jack’s stuff in the garden and all the things that Danny attributed to his imaginary friend, Toby.

Scott pondered awhile, and then said, ‘You of all people shouldn’t think it so strange, where would you be without imagination, Maggie?  Pulling groceries on a check-out? Not that it’s a disgrace; someone has to do it… Danny is developing his mind, maybe he’ll be a great artist like his beautiful mother, or  write the books Jack couldn’t… then he’ll need all the power of his inner mind, much the way you do.’

She looked deep into her empty coffee cup as if it were a crystal ball. ‘Maybe I could believe all that if he were happy, Scott, but he’s not. He’s so moody and goes days without saying a word to anyone.’

She related Cathy’s story about hearing a dog in the car, and Scott looked puzzled.

‘From what you’ve told me about her, I’d say she’s prone to flights of fancy and you shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. It could have been anything, like that wretched noise when you speed past those wooden poles along the road. Maybe there was something stuck to the wheel of her car. Noises you would normally recognise have a way of sounding strange when you’re cooped up inside a tin-can on wheels.’

She didn’t believe Scott’s explanation, but it was enough to put a little doubt in her mind, she realised that she hadn’t thought the situation through as thoroughly as she might.

She didn’t tell him about the bite-marks and scratches that appeared on Danny during the nightmares until last. It wasn’t really all that bad, not enough to draw blood but marks none the less.

‘Could he have done it himself?’ asked Scott.

‘Yes, but he denied it.’

‘Someone at school, a fight? Boys get into them all the time.’

‘I don’t think so. Danny told the doctor that this Toby did it. When we asked him why he hadn’t said anything to us, he just shrugged his shoulders and clammed up. We’ve been advised not to push him too hard.’

Scott could see how worried she was, but he couldn’t really think of anything to allay her fears, real or imagined. It was high time to lighten the mood. Catching Kelly’s eye, he ordered two more coffees with hand gestures.

‘God knows what you’ve been letting your mind get up to, Maggie darling, but as far as I can tell, there are only two explanations. He either did it himself or he got into a fight and didn’t know how to tell you. There are times, darling when a young man can’t run to his mama. Losing a fight would be worse than telling you he had been in one in the first place…

‘Maybe that’s all he’s hiding from you, and as for the rest of it, it’s plain old-fashioned mischief born out of the sheer frustration of keeping things locked inside…’




Danny’s secret goes back in time

How is this known to a child of nine?

No one believes him when he speaks

Of buried treasure the earth still keeps.

Yet stranger words are said in sleep.

His mother hears his sleeping moans

Afraid now, how can he know

Of secrets buried so long ago?


#In Remembrance…




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Soldier Blue

On foreign soil a soldier falls, a poppy grows

They send them back to lie alone.

We carve their names on grey stonewalls

We sent them out to fight for freedoms call.

Few come back with wounds that heal

Inside horrors, they will not recall

Soldiers fought so we can live on English soil…