This is not my usual walk through the woods with my daughter Today I am alone, walking through God’s Fingers A warm touch of heaven, I tell myself My feet leave the ground My body lifted to the top of the canopy I hover there like some high wire act From a forgotten circus My heart in my mouth The land lies before me A giant monopoly board With houses, hotels, a patchwork quilt of adventure From here I cannot see people I assume them to be Tom Thumb sized While I am Gulliver, overlooking Lilliput For a moment, my mind wonders how I will get down Am I expected to climb? A firm swift movement lowered my feet to the ground I found my daughters hand in mine It’s twelve o clock and all’s well… © Anita Dawes 2021
Image from Pixabay.com
Continued from last week… Part One HERE
I wondered how I could be rid of her nagging I exhale, pretend to listen There was a change in the air As though something had opened up The break in the path we were walking looked dangerous Somehow, she made it across Had I missed my chance to nudge her over the edge? No, I still needed her mind to find the legendary pot of gold I shake myself, hoping to rid myself of the bad thoughts I had no choice but follow her lead Going home having failed, was not an option Listening to her going over the clues I remembered the walks we went on when we first met each other She had great style in those days I watch as she lights the fire for the night Wondering if we were chasing rainbows I fell asleep watching the old fort throw shadows across the land Hoping the search for the end would come soon… ©AnitaDawes2022
Continued from last week. HERE
Trying to remember what I knew about St Germaine Like clockwork, my thoughts kicked in He was a wealthy man, into the occult Many thought of him as a second Jesus I hoped to find the secret documents written by him, and the book I searched for They say he is a man who knows everything, who never dies But where are these documents now? Turning back to the altar, I wondered who had placed the camellias I had trampled on. Were they a clue to the keyhole I needed to find? It felt like I held an ancient charm in my hand Mice ran around my feet, mingling with the chaos of this place I wondered where the strong smell of peppermint had come from There stood a young lady in her twenties, slim, some would say fairylike She spoke first, “I thought I was the only one who had dibs on this place, are you looking for something?” For a moment, wondering if she was real, I couldn’t speak The key felt hot in my hand I answered, “I was walking when I found this place.” Having exhausted my search for the keyhole, I thought it lay elsewhere I didn’t want to tell her why I was here With the amount of rubble on the floor I should have heard her walk away It seemed she had vanished, leaving me mulling over her last words “You never know what you could find in a place like this.” With no keyhole, my search goes on, wondering if she was real and what she might know about this place… ©AnitaDawes2022
A single key hung from the ceiling The room filled with the colours of a rainbow The church had been derelict for years I was transported by a single thought Suspicion rose like a frozen hand at my back The mediums could be right about the curse on this old sacred place No time to elaborate now I shuffle forward the small distance towards the altar Remembering the key above my head After making the sign of the cross I climbed on to the altar, snatching the key Now all I needed was the keyhole To find the treasure hidden in Rosslyn Chapel My search continues, no keyhole as yet I am not the kind to give up I will find the book of St, Germaine… To be continued ©AnitaDawes2022
A Day Remembered
A few years ago now, Jaye and I decided to visit a zoo; it was more like a safari park without the need for a car. Jaye read that there would be a display by an orca, a black and white whale. The Ying and yang of the ocean, I call them.
When we arrived, we found that this would take place at 2 o clock that afternoon.
We walked around for a while. Jaye found a group of people listening to a man talking about one of her favourites. He was holding an arachnid, a huge orange and black spider. Of course, she wanted to be able to hold it right after he had said that it could shoot stuff from its black bulbous backside that would irritate the skin. Plus, it had a venomous bite.
Jaye tried to get me to take it from her hand. No chance, I thought. What if it is fed up being poked, prodded, and decided that I was the one to take a bite out of?
I watched her cooing over it like a fluffy white rabbit. Finally, I told her I had to find something with fewer legs. Walking around with 2 o clock in mind, we found one of my favourite animals. The sloth.
I thought cats were laid back and knew how to relax. This beautiful creature takes the biscuit. They live life in the slow lane, plus they only need to pee once a week. These days I could do with that skill.
A few paces along, we found the pandas lying on their backs as though sunbathing. We stood watching, and I swear they didn’t even blink.
I walked away, thinking they looked like stuffed toys and were not very entertaining. Whenever I see them on TV, they roll around and practice play fighting. Maybe they were tired.
Next, we found the giraffes, magnificent animals. I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side. I kept my distance while Jaye fed one, remembering when they get fed up being stared at, they spit at you. I didn’t fancy walking around for the rest of the day with gloop all over me.
Further along, we found a moth-eaten gorilla. Nothing like the one I fell in love with while visiting Regents Park Zoo with my husband. His name was Guy. People would throw their cigarettes at him; he would place it between his fingers and pretend to smoke it. After a while, he would turn to his audience and let out a stream of hot water, letting them know what he thought of the faces staring at him.
He sadly died while having a tooth removed. A short while later, I heard he had been stuffed and displayed in a glass cage at the History Museum. Something told me I had to say goodbye to the beautiful creature I had fallen in love with, and standing there, lost in his eyes, I was in a world that only he could explain.
Next, we came to the snake house, something else I am fond of. Skipping past the bats, not one of my favourites, I made my way outside.
We found the camels. Desert taxis, I call them. Snooty-looking devils that can spit for the fun of it.
It was time to make our way back to the small pool. The first three rows were full of people. Fools, I told myself. Steering Jaye to the sixth row, I had no intention of getting soaked when the whale dove in and out of the water.
When the display was over, the whale would hug the poolside, and we were encouraged to touch it. Its skin felt like a rubber tyre. Jaye was at the mouth end, her hand in its mouth, touching its tongue between a magnificent row of white teeth. God, what if she made it gag, and it snapped his mouth shut on her hand?
Before persuading her that it was almost time to go home, there was one more stop. I’d heard they had an elephant. King of the jungle in my book.
We found him alone on a small island, chained to the wall, swaying back and forth. I knew this meant he was very unhappy as they are pack animals and need company. Why was he chained to a wall by himself? I couldn’t stop my tears. I wanted to pull the chain from the wall and set him free. But I knew it would take more than that. He would need care for a long time if he were to recover. This is proof that all creatures should live in their own environment.
I drove home, compiling a letter of complaint in my head, hoping that someone would see the error of their ways and get him the help and companionship that he needed.
My day out remembered…
©AnitaDawes2022 All Rights Reserved
At the beginning of 2022, I had the overwhelming notion of cultivating something. Something I had never had much luck with before.
I chose tomatoes.
I had always wanted to do this, but previous efforts had always failed for one reason or another. This time, I was sure we would grow our own tomatoes.
I researched all the different types of tomatoes, confident I would make the right choice. Several packets of seeds arrived in the post, and I started to gather all the pots and soil I would need.
This was all happening when the year was young and hadn’t yet acquired that air of doom and gloom that would eventually descend and taint everything.
I felt like a proper gardener as I prepared the pots and planted the seeds. Every day I would inspect them, waiting eagerly to see the first pale new shoots appearing. I remember being so happy when the first seedlings broke through the soil.
Just one week later, I went outside to see my charges, to be met with the scene of a disaster. Something had attacked the pots, and the ground was littered with displaced soil and battered seedlings. I tried my best to replant them all, but inside, I was seething. Who or what had done this?
It seemed to take a long time for the seedlings to recover, and I secretly waited for them to curl up their toes and give up the fight. To be honest, that’s what I wanted to do, as my dream had been spoiled.
Slowly, they did recover and grew taller. Soon the pale yellow star-shaped flowers appeared, shortly followed by tiny tomatoes. Whether it was being so cruelly disturbed, the lack of sunshine, or the absence of luck, these tomatoes never grew very big. Disappointingly small, although definitely sweet.
I still wonder what had sabotaged my efforts and whether I will try again next year…
Another birthday coming up Evidence of time passing Celebrate, one more photograph for the album Artistic frosting for the face To hide the lines, my age Decorate the body in lace and frills Put on a sickly sweet smile Join in the festive spirit Celebrate with the necessary slice of cake Nervous, for the hours to pass For my guests to go home To be left alone for another year The frosting on my face cracked Ready to come of Revealing my true age Eager to plant myself In my favourite armchair To sleep… ©AnitaDawes2022
He stood on the bridge beside her Holding her by the wrist It was close to the break of day With the wind howling, he could tell Both their lives were at risk of falling He thought she couldn’t be more than eighteen He felt the miracle of holding her Trying to stop her from ending her life He spoke in a clear, soft voice Feeling the thin thread of life Pulling her toward the water below Turning her tear-stained face towards his She let him help her down from the bridge Thanking him for her kindness She began slowly walking away He couldn’t let her go What if she tried further along the bridge? Catching up to her, he offered to take her for breakfast This became the start of a beautiful relationship Forty years later, the soul he saved was still smiling… ©AnitaDawes2022
The devil is messing with my words Changing the content, the meaning Stripping my soul, searching for more He is trying to bleed me dry I can’t hide, he has my number He tells me my time is running out I am looking for a sign to save myself A way to hide my written words from the fork tailed one Am I meant to write something to please him? To compliment him. Does he feel misunderstood As many of us are? I felt a great force shoot me forward as if shot from a cannon He was impatient for me to begin I chose my words with care Once upon a time, he lived among the angels The favourite son of God I felt the air in the room shift The cold had been replaced with a warmth I remembered So I continued to write the devil out of my life Keeping hold of my soul… ©AnitaDawes2022