#Wordle 380


Wordle 380.jpg


New Day

Air keeps me breathing

Keeps my body on the ground

Keeps me rolling through the days.

Hot summers that wrap me in treacle

Hard to put one foot in front of the other

My mind slipping and sliding

Losing parts of myself to the heat

Can I get the missing parts back?

Or do they reform someplace far away

Making a new entity?

I have no evidence of my sudden decline

I look in the mirror and see me looking back

Memories filter through my mind like dust

Reminding me of the potential that lingers from my dreams

The hope that I will taste victory some day

With bare determination, I break myself

Free from this despondency

I am still young, I can take back some

 Of my dreams and make them real

I will start with the small ones

Take each day one step at a time

Make a list. Number one: find someone to love

With hope to be loved in return

Write that story I promised my twelve-year-old self

As I break away from the mirror, I notice a shadow move

A rush of air against my skin

A whisper of wings, an angel on my shoulder

This was the thought I carried into the new day…


#Writephoto: Untrodden…



Image by scvincent.com



Is there any place on earth that can claim to be untrodden?

The darkest regions of the Amazon would have had creatures crossing back and forth at some time in our history.

It is the same for the oceans, deep and dark, not made for man. Yet something lives there.

I believe it is the same for the planets that man cannot reach.

The cracks, the waterways, could someone have walked there long ago?

Our history goes back further than we can truly know. I have to wonder if there is a virgin untrodden ground anywhere in our universe. Yet give me a patch of untrodden snow, I will stop and think.

No footsteps, untrodden, pristine, white. My mind tells me the snow that has fallen today, made by frozen rain, has been with us since time began. It has fallen many times before and will keep falling, it is not new.

However, this beautiful patch of diamond carpet of fresh snow has no footprints. I will tread there and leave my mark. Just in case there is a chance, some small part is yet untrodden in some distant past…




#Wordle 379






I dread the frost chill of morning

My thoughts twist like barbwire

Remembering the shock, the life I took.

Each time the same face before me

Blood on my hands.

I wish someone could help me to understand.

Stuck between nightmare and reality

I can no longer filter the truth.

Did I do this dreadful thing?

I tell myself it must have taken

Place in some other timeline.

Karma I have to work through

A memory I cannot shake.

It clings to me, fills every pore.

There is no way to mend this dreadful deed

How can I give back a life taken?

I sleep each night, hoping it is in my past

I pray to God it isn’t something yet to come…


99 word Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community

This weeks prompt is Into The Dark...






I watched as my soul sailed into the dark,

the thinking animated part of me disappearing.

A black cloud held me in a bubble,

my mind washed clean, my muse shut out.

There was no way for me to know

how long the darkness would last.

Would my muse be able to find her way back to me?

Would I pick a pen, touch my keyboard;

find those words to place inside a new cover?

It wasn’t too long before the scales dropped from my mind,

soon I could see beautiful lights

sailing across the blue black dark horizon…


#Wordle 378





Morning Walk

I follow the stream on my morning walk,

Watching it flow with ease over lumps, bumps,

And small rocks leaving patterns on its way.

I wish I had a piece of news paper in my pocket.

I would make a paper boat,

Write a message maybe, watch it sail off

I bless this boat and all who sail in her…

The crowd watching give a roaring cheer,

Calling my mind back from the fringe of my imagination.

Not before I notice, three twigs drift with the stream

Reminding me of the pooh sticks, I played with my father.

The sting of memory, of childhood, when life was easy, free flowing.

I binged on life then, these days I binge a little slower, like my stream…


#Wordle 377 #Challenge




Wordle 377


The Rosebud

A hollow trunk lay beneath the snow-laden trees, a place where I had hidden many times since I was a child. My brothers never found me there.

I would often become sleepy, waiting for a sign they had gone home out of the cold, leaving a line of footprints I could follow.

I do not remember what woke me, a sound, birdsong, something.

Following the fading footsteps, I heard a sound. A distant chime.

Church bells.

But there is no church here. With fine snow continuing to fall, I knew I was lost. I let the song of a robin lead me on, for they know where food can be found. Soon I could see lights, the outline of a house. Smoke drifted, someone must be home.

As I drew nearer, the burnt house still smouldered.

We play here most days and I knew the forest well. My brothers, older than I would have told me about it. How could they not know we had forest dwellers this close to town?

I could hear our church bells ringing for evening mass. Why hadn’t anyone come looking for me?

I knew my way home from here and would give them what for when I saw them. Brothers indeed! They were supposed to look after me.

Finally, I made it home and opened the front door. I could smell lunch cooking and hear my brothers laughing. Making my way to the kitchen I could see they were helping mum to lay the table.

“You are just in time, sweet pea,” mum said. Turning to face me, she reminded me to get out of my damp clothes.


It was still light outside. I realised I could not have heard our church bells. I couldn’t have been dreaming either, for I had the rosebud I found in the burnt out house. I handed it to mum and was taken aback by the strange look on her face. The smile, the way her eyes lit with memory as she placed it in a small vase. “Get on with you now, lunch is on the table. “ I had the feeling mum knew about the house.

Over lunch, she cleverly avoided each question I asked.

The next day I asked the vicar, as he knew more than the local library. He told me there had never been a house that near to the forest edge or this close to town.

His answer made me feel strange. Where had the rosebud come from?

Someone had put it in the broken vase that lay in the ash, in a house I am told doesn’t exist. I vowed to take another look for myself.


Snow crunched beneath my feet as I left the church.

I wanted to find something to prove the house was there. I found the spot easily, remembering the oak tree with the initials L S carved into it. Touching the letters I realised they could be my mother’s name, Lilian Small.

Searching through the junk on the ground, the only thing I found was a tiny piece of the vase with a blue flower painted on it. But no ash, no house, no sign that anyone had ever lived there.

I could not shake the feeling that my mother knew something, but I would never be able to prise it out of her.

I left the broken piece of vase beside the rosebud on our kitchen windowsill, hoping that when mother found it she would say something.


That afternoon, I watched as she held it, turning it gently in her hands and as I left the room, I saw my mother brush a tear from her cheek.

I knew I would never be able to ask her about the house or the rosebud I found there.

There is one thing I knew for sure, I was not dreaming…


Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge

Anita has finished her Etheree poem already, while I am still dragging my heels…

Still, she is much better than I am at these…

If you fancy having a go, jog along to: https://colleenchesebro.com/2018/10/23/colleens-weekly-tanka-tuesday–poetry-challenge-no-107-haunt-spell-synonymsonly/








Me tight

Don’t let go

Magic astray

Trouble follows here

Find the charm, break the spell

Let the glamour make the day

Let all trouble be blown far away

Possess your all, send it where you will

Let all return within the space of nine…

©Anita Dawes

Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge #Etheree #Poetry

This week, Anita has excelled… not just an ordinary Etheree for she has attempted a double Etheree poem! I am impressed, how about you?

Find out how to play at https://colleenchesebro.com





Double Etheree:  TIME



Lost dark star

hands held slow dance

Love song remembered

Time flies and we grow old

Dark empty space left behind

To love lost long ago, tears shed

Slow handheld time rhythm left alone

Let no soul remain to cry at windows

As I am passing by this empty life

I stand all alone to shed my tears

Tears shed too long in fruitless pain

Vacant phantom I once said

Sunken life is depressed

Void the empty shell

I left outside




©Anita Dawes


#Writephoto: Bone

Another #writephoto challenge from Sue Vincent…



Image by scvincent.com




Bones whisper, from the desert sand

They whisper from the ground we walk.

We dig them up, their stories told

Graveyards planted, bones of white

Long lost souls lay still at night.

Some will walk again, their day not done.

No help among the living

Their bones will call them back.

Fortuneteller bones in hand

Will tell what you need to hear.

In the end, bones will be

All that’s left of you and me…

©Anita Dawes