I want to dance
To swim the warm waters
Run barefoot through fields of yesterday
When you were there
I have lost more than my soul mate
There are no sunsets, no moon rise
The breeze no longer moves through the trees
The leaves are still
You have taken the air from this world
I can no longer breathe without you here
I wait, drifting like a slow-moving river
Until I can walk the path you have taken…
I pour out the magic elixir
The sip I take turns my hands white
My hair is straightened
No fuzzy top to tease me by
No hurtful names for ears to hear
No tears to shed on night-time pillow
Will life be sweeter now I am white?
Image by Pixabay.com
My world is made of breadcrumbs
Only there is no Hansel and Gretel in this story
I know I’m not living in a fairy tale
Everything I touch crumbles, harmony is lost
My secret thoughts turn darker
At times my spoken word is edged with barb wire
I lose friends, family with my acid tongue
I feel as if I have fallen into a fog
Laced with hex
It follows me, breaking every step I take
There is no one to tell this sorry tale to
They wouldn’t understand
Besides, what could they do
I must find my own way out of the labyrinth
Before I lose the only thing left to me
My mind…
It hasn’t rained for nearly two days and I was looking forward to escaping the confines of my office and getting some fresh air. Anita called me to come outside and see something, and she was being very mysterious. I found her standing near my bonsai, pointing to the one on the end of the shelf.
I wondered what had caught her attention, for as far as I could tell, they were all there on the shelf, looking a bit scruffy to be fair for I haven’t been keeping them tidy due to the weather. None of them were missing or damaged, although I thought some of them were looking a bit like naughty children, revelling in my lack of attention.
Image by Jaye Marie
That’s when I noticed what Anita was pointing to, a very small mushroom was happily growing in the pot alongside my bonsai tree. This tree was a gift from the birds some six years ago. I found it trying to grow between the cracks of the path, liked the shape and colour of the leaves and decided to keep it. I transferred it into a pot, but never did find out what it was called. So, after all this time, how did a mushroom manage to grow in the same pot?
Further along the shelf I noticed that my English cherry had changed into its autumn colour, a glorious red. I grew this tree from a cherry stone about seven years ago. It has never flowered, but I hope it will one day.
Image by Jaye Marie
My eyes returned to the tiny mushroom, and I was reminded of our last unexpected visitor.
Image by Jaye Marie
I had no idea this could happen, but have seen others since, so quite ordinary really…
This morning, as I was reading the news on my PC, there was an article about recognising the signs of Alzheimers or dementia, and as I am constantly being told that I am well on my way to having one or the other, I gave it a read.
I suppose it was inevitable at my age, 75, for the remarks to start, because I must admit I am nothing like I used to be. (Sssh, don’t tell anyone I said that!)
For instance:
… How many times do I forget what I am doing, or what I was going to do?
… How many times do I ask the same question or misunderstand the answer?
… How many attempts to find the right words to express myself.
… Are my mood swings more pronounced? Although personally, despite public opinion, I think I am having more good moods lately.
… Am I have trouble learning new skills? (This is not exactly new, I have always been a bit dense, but I get there in the end!)
But on the good side: (That I managed to find a few of these pleased me no end!)
I haven’t yet got lost in the street. (Although I did recently forget my dentist appointment)
I haven’t yet staggered down the road, waving my knickers in the air. (And I hope I never do, but it could happen apparently!)
I haven’t lost interest in any of my projects or hobbies. Just the time I need to do them!
I can still do sums in my head and follow a plot. (More or less!)
I have begun to worry less about our progress, but do wonder if this is down to losing the plot!
One of my main accusers is also displaying some of these telltale signs, so it is probably only a matter of time for either one of us falls foul to the disease of the aged… This isn’t a competition I intend to win, however…
All joking aside, I am becoming a little concerned about the state of my brain. At first, it was amusing and on a good day, it can be hilarious, watching myself do the most stupid of things. Like going out for a walk without any shoes on, or forgetting to switch on the washing machine/computer/iron/oven and wonder why nothing happens. One of the best was wondering why the kettle didn’t quite fit in the fridge. Even I had to laugh at that one.
All of this is beginning to affect my writing too, despite all the notes I make, and the frantic checking to find what I actually wrote yesterday.
I still get a satisfying buzz when I achieve something or reach my daily total, but the extent of my elation is in itself alarming. I am having to work in short bursts, and this is playing havoc with my productivity!
How can I laugh as I watch my life?
My dreams spiral into a shallow grave
My mother warned I would rue the day I met him
A sham from the start, she’d said more times
Then I wanted to hear, often reminding me
that the signal couldn’t be clearer
A man polishing his own shoes
Dying the grey in his hair, checking his weight
She was quoting from her own life,
which was a perfect copy of my own
I have been living in a shell of my own making
How can I have been so dense
Not to notice the late nights, the lame excuses
Five minutes of feeling sorry for myself was enough
I went back to work on my first draft
For the craft fair and my latest book
Doesn’t sound exciting, but believe me,
there’s more going on here than fifty shades of Grey
Reading it over, I notice I have written a note to myself
To send an SOS to the universe
Please remind me to choose a better life
Next time around…
Image by Pixabay.com
Blue moon, the triple goddess
If you should be unfortunate enough to meet her
Do not hold her gaze
For she sees through time and space
Through all your lifetimes
She brings them to the fore
All your past misdeeds
You may be forced to live them again
Which many of us do
Under her gaze, you have become
Triple cursed
Each returning misdeed
Weighs more than you can carry
Yet under a blue moon you may be lucky
For it is said she can be appeased
By asking for her forgiveness
For on that one night when the moon shines blue
She is inclined to forgive
Those she takes a liking to
Pray that she likes the look of you…
Image by Pixabay.com
When you leave your bed in the morning
Be sure to smooth out the line
Your body left behind
For there are others who wait
To steal the warmth from your soul
Should they manage to occupy
The space you vacated
Your soul turns cold, a shard of ice
Stealing the warmth from your heart
Turning your footsteps from the path
You were meant to tread
Strange winds blow through your life
While others slowly take form
Until there is another lying
In the line where you once slept…
In Book 2 of the Wake-Robin Ridge series, Marcia Meara, author of Swamp Ghosts and Finding Hunter, returns to the rugged beauty of the North Carolina mountains, introducing a little boy whose remarkable gift will change the world for everyone he meets.
“Evil’s comin’, boy…comin’ fast. Look for the man with eyes like winter skies, and hair like a crow’s wing. He’s the one you gotta find.”
The remote mountain wilderness of North Carolina swallowed up the ten-year-old boy as he made his way down from the primitive camp where his grandparents had kept him hidden all his life. His dying grandmother, gifted with the Sight, set him on a quest to find the Good People, and though he is filled with fear and wary of civilization, Rabbit is determined to keep his promise to her. When he crosses paths with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, neither their lives nor his, are ever the same again.
The extraordinary little boy called Rabbit has the power to light up the darkness, and the resourcefulness to save himself from the one person his grandparents had hoped would never find him. His dangerous and bittersweet journey will touch you in unexpected ways, and once you’ve let Rabbit into your heart, you’ll never forget him.
Our Review
Rabbit has the gift of ‘seeing’ like his grandmother, but will it help him to find where he belongs?
Rabbit has a father, someone he has never met. Someone his grandmother warned him about. He has turned up wanting his son, but Rabbit knows he must keep away from him and stay with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, but will he be allowed to stay there?
This is a heartbreaking story, one that broke mine over and over again. Rabbit is a wonderful child and deserves to find happiness, even though it seems impossible.
Although you know that things must get worse before they can get better, some of the good stuff will have you reaching for the tissues too…
About the Author
Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years, four big cats, and two small dachshunds. When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. At the age of five, Marcia declared she wanted to be an author and is ecstatic that at age 69, she finally began pursuing that dream. Three years later, she’s still going strong, and plans to keep on writing until she falls face down on the keyboard, which she figures would be a pretty good way to go! Marcia has published six books to date, all of which are available on Amazon in both print and Kindle format: Wake-Robin Ridge A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2 Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3 Swamp Ghosts: A Riverbend Novel Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2 Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love You can reach Marcia via email at mmeara@cfl.rr.com or on the following social media sites: The Write Stuff: http://marciamearawrites.com/ Bookin’ It: http://marciameara.wordpress.com Twitter: @marciameara Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marcia.meara.writer Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/marciameara/ To keep up with the latest news and giveaways, sign up for Marcia’s Mail List here: https://marciamearawrites.com/mail-list-win-free-stuff/
Image by Pixabay.com
In my imagination
Like Ali, I am the greatest
I fly with eagles
Sale the river on the back of a black swan
Cross the Amazon in a single bound
Build the pyramids single handed
Rediscover the lost library of Alexander
I know all the secrets in the Vatican
I read the minds of our great inventors
This one was heavy going
They do not think the way we do
Discovering new worlds for humanity to live on
Hoping this time not to mess it up
I have had ten minutes all to myself
Back to work now
Tea to cook, family home
Washing to be done
Homework to be taken care of
I wonder what I will get up to tomorrow…
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 