The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 532 ~ #Poetry

I ignore the sign
Rush towards the crossroads
Trembling, I stand
Unable to choose
Thoughts dip in and out
I let them pass, no use
How can I pick the right road?
Toss a coin, heads you lose
I feel the flow of blood
Rush to my head
I linger too long
Chasing old dreams
I drift toward the right-hand path
My thoughts drifting after me
They fray like old cotton on a slow draft
My path chosen, I let my legs
Take me where they will…



Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay

I have been told that thinking is a dangerous thing to do at my age.  It is possibly a dangerous thing to do at any age if you think about it, for who knows where it may lead?

I quite like thinking, and all the things that trigger it off. Like books and pictures for instance. What I could do with is a method of keeping said thoughts, as they usually evaporate like so much smoke, never to be seen again. I make notes on everything in a vain hope of remembering all the good stuff, and it works most of the time.

Then I am told ‘what do you expect, at your age?’

But this is the difficult part. My mind does not feel old, even though it seems to have more holes in it than my favourite cheese, and when I see or read something that stirs my imagination, I am back in my prime, having a sneaky feeling that this is not all there is for me.

Some of the time I must admit I really don’t want any more, I am too tired to even consider the possibility. Then there are the other days– when you forget just how old and how stiff you are. That you find it difficult just going to the shops and back.

Days when you choose to ignore the sands of time slipping through your fingers and find yourself considering the most amazing possibilities.

Of course, this may be what happens as you approach old age. I don’t know, I have no experience or knowledge of it, not having done it before.

But if you can think, you can dream. And if you can dream, I believe you can do anything… at any age!

I have been struggling to finish the fifth book in my crime/mystery series. Although I am three quarters finished, the sneaky feeling that there might be something wrong just won’t go away.

It gets worse. 

I have been waking up in the early hours, thinking about the story. This has been going on for weeks now and last night I dreamed about it. In the dream, my hero and my villain changed places for some reason.

I wanted to know about temporary and easily changeable hair colourants. None of this made any sense to me, all my book needed, I think, is a substantial edit to tighten up the plot. But it did get me thinking. 

Could my choice of villain be all wrong? This could be why my hero was a bit lack lustre too. The whole premise could be askew. Anita and I had a brainstorming session to try to make sense of it all, and although we came up with some interesting ideas, they all involved major rewriting. No mean feat when you are 60.000 words in already.

I should be feeling devastated, and not sure why I’m not. The problem may or not be sorted, but whatever happens, it is doable. So that old post was right after all. If you can dream, you can do anything…

MLMM Photo Challenge #382 ~ #Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Photo credit Pobble365

If life had been kind
That’s what I could be
Large and free
As it is, I sit here watching
my dreams go up in smoke
I could have been an eagle
Try caging me then
Now I wait for the cord
that binds us to snap
Letting loose my true self…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Quiet ~ #Poetry

When I woke up this morning
I thought my hearing had been taken
Looking from my window
I could see no cars on the road
No people walking by
I knew I would miss them
Venturing outside
I realised there was no bird song
I cannot be the only person left on the planet
I heard a voice say, you’re not
We wanted to show you
What it would be like to lose your hearing
This gives you a better understanding
Of this impediment
I thought, thank God they didn’t take my sight
We thought to spare you that
On this occasion, maybe
Another time we will visit that upon you
I said no thank you, I understand
Wishing for peace and quiet
Should come under
Be careful what you wish for
I remembered I would miss so many sounds
With that thought, came a flash of light
And all was well, all sound returned…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Kiss #Poetry


For those new to our website and blog, we would like to thank you for visiting. Between us, we write in several different genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. Anita cannot abide computers, so I (Jaye) do all the technical (oily rag) stuff!  We try to keep our website interesting with guest posts, bloggers, poetry, and reviews for all the books we read. Our books are shown in the right-hand sidebar and clicking on the images should take you straight to Amazon. Or for Anita’s books, or for Jaye’s.

If you enjoyed your visit, we would love you to leave a comment…

Hoping to see you again!

The Bubble… #Poetry

I am stuck inside her chewing gum bubble
I feel her hot air holding the shape
Becoming thinner
I can almost see the outside world
She’s blowing slow, hoping it won’t break
trying for the Guinness Book of Records
Man stands beside her, clipboard in hand
Stop clock ticking, time almost up
What happens to me when the bubble bursts?
As a small part of her sleeping mind
I direct her dream time
If I’m not there, I don’t know what will happen
I’m hoping she will hold her breath
Give me time to make a run for it,
get back inside.
She made the record, the pop was soft
I am now wrapped in pink bubble gum
Thrown in the bin where I cannot last long
I place my request with the universe
To return in a better disguise
I don’t think I have yet
earned the right to a whole life
A part of something or someone will do…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge ~#FFFC

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #117

For the visually challenged writer, the image shows a man riding a bicycle on a bridge and there are tall buildings that are partially or mostly obscured by thick clouds reaching down to the ground.

The image is from MilosCreativeArt at DeviantArt.

Growing wild, running through cornfields
Gran said my feet were on the ground,
My head up in the clouds
Lying in a field one day,
I wondered how that would feel.
The warm earth pulled me into a dream,
Where I lived in a city in the clouds
I tried telling myself to wake up.
I was dying to tell gran how it feels
Inside the cloud. It felt amazing.
I need to let her know there is no problem
Having your head among the clouds
Please wake up. I pinch myself
To burst the dream like a balloon
I guess gran was right
My head was in the clouds
Now my feet have joined it there
I hear myself screaming now
Please, wake up!

© Anita Dawes 2021

#MLMM ~ #Sunday Writing Prompt:

Image from

Floating free, surrounded by light,
I found a tiny planet that drew me in.
I walked for miles before finding a living being.
Tiny, like the planet. No more than four foot tall.
Asking where I could find a bed for the night,
He pointed down the road to a small yellow building.
I’m not what you call tall, five foot nine.
I hoped the inside might be larger.
Bending to enter the door, I could see how small everything was.
The lady behind the desk slapped her hand over her mouth
to stifle a scream. “You cannot stay here!”
Backing out of the door, I sat on the pavement,
wondering how I could return home.
The kindness of strangers fed me, they sat with me.
“You’re stuck with us for a while, the next big energy wave
Won’t be back for the next two years.
“That’s your ride back home. In the meantime,
we can build you a place of your own.
“In return, you can work in the fields for us.”

I was beginning to feel like Gulliver.
Later in the evening, would I hear, “Twelve o clock and all’s well?”
If I am dreaming, don’t wake me. Let me stay a while…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Challenge


This month’s theme is:


come from a
different bed
Do we dream their dreams?
Is it sad and lonely?
Do we enter the unknown
A universe of do it twice
Where any old dream they think will do
for a night spent in someone else’s bed…

© Anita Dawes 2021