Hidden noise we do not hear Yet sinks inside our head Like the secret noise inside a shell We take no notice of the sound Of bare feet on vinyl We lead strange lives Hand in hand with superstition Burying shoes and witches bottles Under the threshold to ward off evil and protect the house Amidst the strange and wonderful Like Nero, we play our invisible fiddle Letting the world spin around us… ©AnitaDawes2022
Before I am born, I am forgotten
I carry sins for the world.
I share them out like sweets
As a mother would for her children.
Each must have his own portion
Without sin, the world turns to ash.
There must be crimes, murders
Catastrophes to swipe man away.
Space on your world is not infinite
I do not choose who receives the larger sin.
Like the scattering of seeds or rain
I let them fall where they may.
I am not here to judge man
Only to see evil done by his hand.
Nature has her own way
Of sending evil to keep numbers down.
Pandora will tell you hope remains
That morning light will confirm.
There are no saints among you
Each has been given their own kind of sin.
Whether in thought or deed
I am sorry to say is the way of life.
Good and bad, yin and yang
Decided from the very first spark…
© Anita Dawes 2021
I have given up on the idea of becoming enlightened
By some trick of the mind, meditating,
floating over your favourite meadow.
Ideas written by supposed enlightened minds
don’t work for me.
I resign myself to the fact that my shine is hidden miles away.
I stab another needle into my homemade doll,
Whispering rude things
while telling myself I am entitled to get my own back.
The child in me remembers the fright.
The evil intended by so-called friends.
There can be no reconciliation.
Their denial of wrongdoing falls on deaf ears.
The bile rose in my throat
As I stabbed the last needle into the doll’s image
Let the deed be done…
© Anita Dawes 2021
Her black charcoal heart
Thirst for life taken by accusation
Witch! They cried, needles pierce her skin
Pain sears her mind.
Cold river ducking
to cries of Burn the Witch!
The pyre built; her body tied
Flames grow higher, her soul has fled
Her body burns. They hear no screams
Great clap of thunder silenced all standing
Rain puts out the fire,
in ash she stands in perfect form,
hands clasped in prayer
Put all watching to shame
Handfuls of ash carried home
Buried by the doorstep
Let no evil finger point this way…
© anita dawes 2020
when the real face
of the moon is revealed.
Will fortunes change
While worlds collide?
Will we break like thin glass?
The fallen pieces scar the earth
I sit beneath the last tree
Wondering what fool
Tried to shoot the moon…