The Angry Pen… #Poetry

Arthur at Tintagel, Cornwall
On Tintagel's rugged shores, Arthur has returned.
Molten bronze, larger than when in life
He should not be there.
He lives in fantasy, a story loved by millions
For many, Tintagel is a sacred space
It should be held that way for the future.
What are English Heritage thinking of?
Money, more tourists to take away the magic
The majesty that is Cornwall.
Personally, I cannot speak about 
The face carved on the cliff wall
This does not represent the might that is Merlin
His magic is in every rock, 
Every wave that washes across the shore
These are the things that live in time, 
Never to be forgotten
Tintagel should be left wild, as he is.
Go to the beach late at night as Jaye and I have done
Sit awhile, feel the raw energy
The dark caves whisper, I am still here...

© Anita Dawes 2021

Merlin, carved on Tintagel cliffs, Cornwall

Tomorrows anger fuels the fire… #Poetry

stormy night, seen through rainy window
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Outside myself I stand
Under pressure to remain
Reel me back in, hold me
After each lifetime
Great voices call
Evening cloaks the mind
Of outrageous thoughts
Until the voices call, renewed
Standing tall, ready to defend
False accusation from the unseen
Over to you, you scream
Rage burning, tongue held tight
Tomorrows anger fuels the fire
Under dark skies, storm brewed
Never put you hand up, never volunteer
Ending your torment by letting go…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Broken by Fury…

She walked through the night
An angel on fire
Embers flying, scorching the earth behind her,
Searching for one whose promise broke her heart.
He fled the great war
when Heaven dipped below the horizon
Fury burns away her tears,
Her reasoning mind broken
Trapped in our world, she walks in shadows
Trying not to be seen, her wings
Eaten away by her anger
She is lost, searching for something that cannot be.
Her life broken by fury
Heaven cannot call her back
Angels need our prayers…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Are Your Decisions Based on What you Eat?


I read something strange the other day, something that really made me stop and think. It has been discovered that being hungry actually impairs your judgement.

Here are the articles that prompted this post.

“New research is discovering how metabolic state and the nutritional quality of food influence risk-taking and decision-making behaviours in animals and humans. The metabolic state can have a serious impact on risk-taking and decision-making in humans and animals…”

When Hunger Leads to Anger: Noticing External Influences on Mood

By Nate Kornell Ph.D

Internal states, like hunger, affect us more than we imagine.

The decision to grant a prisoner parole is not something to be taken lightly. It should be considered as seriously and objectively as possible. As a new study of Israeli judges shows, however, these decisions are influenced by a lot more than the lofty ideals of justice. They’re also influenced by snacks.

The researchers investigated the percentage of parole cases that were given favorable rulings. They found that as mornings wore on, the judges became less favorable. But after a meal break, they became more favorable again–followed by the same downward trajectory. The Economist has a figure that says it all: Hungry judges give less favorable rulings.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that people get grumpy when they are hungry. (There’s even a term for it: hangry.) But two things are interesting here. First, hunger had huge effects on a decision that should be, and presumably was, taken very seriously. The scale of the finding itself is pretty amazing. Second, like the judges in the study, most of us underestimate the effect hunger has on behavior.

Could this be why I have been having trouble concentrating lately? Ever since I reinstated the diet in order to take some of the weight from my ever-complaining hip, I have been unable to string any decent thoughts together. The more I try, the harder it seems to get.

The current WIP has suffered, and even the everyday stuff has been difficult to assimilate. Maybe we shouldn’t deprive ourselves of anything, in order to think and feel our absolute best?

I mean, we all know that a good meal usually leads to a good mood?

Anita has just reminded me that years ago many artists ended up starving in a garret somewhere. Makes you wonder which came first, poverty or starvation?

I can believe that depriving ourselves of anything will have a detrimental effect on our performance, as everything is more difficult if you are tired or hungry. I can still remember the torture when I tried to give up smoking. Luckily, a mild heart attack solved that problem and I stopped immediately!

Personally, I don’t want to revert to my previous gluttony for my arthritis demands there must be less of me. So, is there a solution to this quandary?

There has to be a way to convince my subconscious self that I am perfectly happy with the odd hunger pang, and that it needs to ignore the mountain of stress that erupts every now and then like Vesuvius.

Maybe then I can get back to writing 1000+ words a day!






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“When you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on…” Thomas Jefferso


What do you think when you read this quote?

Do you think of anger or frustration?

Or something else?

What is the best way to handle anger?

Is it better to hide it inside you, and never show what you feel?

Or should you vent your spleen, regardless of terrifying the cat?

Some people scream into a pillow or punch the wall… I tried that once and nearly broke my hand.


I have been surrounded by angry people for most of my life, and this has surely been the primary cause of the length of my own personal rope.

Having more patience than most people, it must seem as though my rope has no end, but I can assure you that you wouldn’t want to be around me if I ever do reach the end of it.

I have seen first-hand what a bad temper can do to both people and situations, and it’s never good. More damage is done in temper than almost anything else on this planet.


Over the years, I have become very good at controlling my emotions. I can be positively seething inside, but no one would ever know. Sometimes it is more difficult and I get perilously close to blowing a fuse. This is when I usually go for a walk.

Even if it isn’t far enough, it usually allows me to rein in some of my errant rope.


‘Give someone enough rope, and let them hang themselves…’


What do you do when you can see the end of your rope approaching?