Can I stay? #Poetry

image by Pixabay.com

Broken dreams
Where many hands reach for me
Tearing pieces of my mind
I’m somewhere
where the screaming never ends
Have I crossed over to the dark side?
Is my soul lost
Along with the pieces of my mind?
The ground I walk on
Is no longer as solid as it used to be
Can I save some small part of me?
Will I find a way to stay in my own world?
To hold on to self…

©anitadawes 2020

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 462


Dreaming of cotton candy days
Through a cacophony of birdsong
I pull my bed cover to caress my chin
Can I stay in bed today?
Colour my thoughts
As to who I want to be tomorrow.
I hear the blackbird call
This takes me back to childhood
Conkers and sunshine
Oh, how I covet yesterday…

©anitadawes 2020

The Wonder…

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

The Wonder

In dreaming, I have sailed the seven seas

Seen shadows hiding on the dark side of the moon

I was there when Solomon said, cut the child in half.

It felt wonderful to see the real mother

Offer her child to the other.

I watched in wonder as Moses turned the sea red

I stood beside Jesus when the devil tempted him

Feeling his pain, the struggle within.

Blood filled arenas as gladiators fought for their freedom

I have never witnessed anything as beautiful

As when the first light split the darkness

bringing our blue planet into being

And the many wonders that live here.

I thank God for dream time…

©anitadawes 2020

Dreaming of Another Life…

 

Dreaming sounds idyllic, doesn’t it?

All too often, it can be anything but. Not exactly nightmarish, but many weird confusing images that can make you feel uncomfortable.

You find yourself worrying about them, what do they mean? Is there a message there somewhere? Why do we dream?

Doctors and psychologists have come up with some interesting theories over the years, but do they really know?

Common sense would seem to suggest that it is just the brain sorting through the days images when we are asleep, and most of the time it does sound likely. But what about all those dreams that seem to mean something? Or those that seem to warn us of danger?

Then there are those that appear to predict the future, which then come true. What are we supposed to think about those?

Personally, I don’t dream much, not that I can remember anyway. The odd romantic fantasy about whomever I fancy at the time, but these are getting rarer. (unfortunately!)

Sarah Curtis, the lead character in Not My Life, is being driven slowly insane by upsetting and confusing dreams, where she seems to be someone else entirely. Someone very real and in a lot of trouble.

This excerpt picks up the story when Sarah has wandered into the woods and gets lost…

I didn’t know where to go, so I let fate lead me off towards the woods. I walked for a while, trying not to think of anything. I told myself I should be feeling the beauty of the place.
The trees in their splendid autumn colours, leaves falling here and there making little drifts under the trees. I had heard somewhere that to catch a falling leaf was supposed to bring good luck. I tried and it was impossible. They seemed to fall gently towards you, and then at the last minute, darted away on a capricious breeze.

Trying to catch one frustrated the hell out of me. I gave up and sat for a while on a dry log, eating some chocolate I found in my pocket. Then I realised I had no idea of where I was and it was getting dark. I should have brought a loaf of bread with me to leave a trail, like Hansel and Gretel.
I didn’t feel too afraid; they would find me sooner or later. And later might be better. I walked on between ever-thicker undergrowth, hoping it was the way out. That a path, any path, would appear soon.

I found myself in a clearing with a pool, large rocks and slow running water. My throat was dry enough for me to scoop up a handful and it was surprisingly good. Deciding I was definitely lost and too tired to walk any further, I gathered up as many fallen leaves as I could to lie down in, and buried myself for the night.

The temperature dropped considerably and my bed of leaves gave little warmth. I slept fitfully, dreaming of who I really was. A girl called Kelly. And Tommy, my four year old brother, who once again had been sent to the coal cellar as punishment for wetting his bed. It wasn’t his fault. Father had made him drink far too much water; he must have known he would wet the bed. And mother, she did nothing to stop his cruel games.
There had been times in the past when she did, only to be cruelly beaten herself, without saving Tommy or myself from whatever punishment he saw fit. I knew the house I was in, these people, my parents as well as my own skin. Yet there was another place with gentle people I could sense, but somehow couldn’t reach.

Soft cold rain washed the dream away and I awoke, alone on a bed of wet leaves. Lost, waiting to be found. Too tired to move. Too dark to try to find my way out. Morning couldn’t be too far away; I would try again then…

We would love some feedback for this book, and free review copies are available…

Cold… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

Cold

Frost white morning

I slip my head beneath my duvet

No way are my feet moving

From this warm cover

Today I stay hidden from the world

To dream of things to come

A future made of stardust

 With bright green jewels

A land where you leave a wish

Knowing it will come true…

©anitadawes 2020

Fly Free… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Fly Free

I fly as far as I can

My crooked legs no longer hold me down

My secret place sets me free

Where my wheelchair has a sticker

Marked no entry

I breathe a different kind of air here

That says don’t walk on the grass

 But you do anyway

It feels soft under my feet

Here I walk in sunshine, shadow, summer rain

Here my legs work the way they were meant to

Here my soul is free. I fly until morning

My wheelchair safe beside my bed…

©anitadawes

Dreaming… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Dreaming

I am dreaming of a world I cannot see

Where love never dies

Where your eyes never fade with age

Where we walk with the heart of a child

Imagination ever in bloom

Where dark clouds have no way of forming

The sun shines at an even 72 degrees

Rain only falls at night

Where laughter is a soft breeze against your skin

But then again, I know I am only dreaming

Thunder wakes the air…

©anitadawes

The Tower… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Somehow, I found myself inside the Tower of London

There I was, prancing around, wearing the Queen’s crown

So splendid, magnificent, it felt like wearing new clothes

I could hear the ravens in their cages

They knew I was here. I wondered if the noise

Would alert the guards on their night patrol

I didn’t care. I felt dazzled by the beauty of her jewels

The security lights made each jewel dance

The colours jumping along with their own beauty

Why must such treasures be locked away?

The Hope diamond, rubies, sapphires

I wanted to take them all home with me

Knowing full well, I could never get inside the cabinet

Alarms would ring, I would be locked inside the Tower

A traitor to the Crown, yet here I am, wearing it

Looking at it at the same time.

I woke clutching a small sapphire

Had I brought something back from a dream?

I scanned the newspapers, not a mention of someone

Invading the Tower. No sapphire reported missing.

Somehow my love of splendid jewels had transferred one

Into my hand. Should I return it, risk being branded a criminal?

I think not, for it was a gift from the dream world…

©anitadawes