Time and Place… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Time and Place

I grew in darkness, forced into the light.

I did not choose these people

I hold my breath, hoping to go back.

They wait for my scream

to let them know I am truly here.

My body is fresh born, my mind older

than my parents from the nine months

spent with this woman.

I know she has lost all memory of her time before

Information that would be helpful to her life now.

She would not have allowed herself to become pregnant

She would have remembered.

I will leave before the age of seven

When my memory of past time will be lost to me.

I must continue my search for the woman who remembers

She will become my mother.

Her guidance will give my life true meaning

I will finish this life in a swimming accident.

My mother will grieve

She will have another child who will stay.

My mother knows I am coming

She waits. When next I leap

 It will not be out of time…

AAAAA

Jaye’s Journal Week 21

 

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Have you ever had one of those weeks when everything you touch turns into a nightmare?

This has been one of those weeks, full of mini-disasters and nasty complications, starting with my WIP, PayBack. Half way through the second edit, you know the one, where you trawl for all your howling grammatical errors. Removing all the words you have used far too often, along with the ones you shouldn’t have used in the first place. Everything was going well, when I became uncomfortable with the lead character. I had written him in the first person, but it didn’t fit him somehow.

I had a quick look at other crime writers, and almost all of them prefer the third person POV.

I experimented with a chapter, fully expecting to dislike it, but I didn’t. This meant a ton of work needed to be done and right when I thought the end was in sight. Ho Hum.

I was also having more problems with the pc, and then my camera started making weird noises. I thought new batteries would help, but no. I have been saving up for a new pc, so there was no way I could stump up for a camera too. Then I remembered that my borrowed iPad had a built-in camera. I tried it out and was pleasantly surprised to find the quality excellent, so photographs can still be taken, as and when I need to. (Until I win the lottery!)

Have any of you tried to choose a new PC lately?

Not being related to Rockefeller, I have to settle for a refurbished model, but there were so many to choose from and seeing as how I have serious trouble making up my mind at the best of times, it was a nightmare. I have made some really stupid mistakes in the past, so I am caution personified these days. As they say, ‘When in doubt, do nowt.’

But that kind of thinking won’t get the baby a new bonnet, or me a pc that actually does what it says on the tin.

Then something quite remarkable happened.

Something else had been going on in my head, lately.  I have always been a craft person, if you know what I mean, and one of my passions are those lovely beaded bonsai trees.

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It is all Pinterest’s fault really; they keep sending me images of these wonderful trees. The desire to make one is never far away, but the idea was blossoming, and I knew if I didn’t start now, it might never happen.

My eyesight is a major problem when it comes to craft work, and it isn’t  getting any better. On Friday I will find out what they intend to do about it, if anything.

So, going by another old maxim, ‘All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy,’ I am going to reschedule my time to make way for things other than PC related work.

Working with my hands always frees up my mind to wander where it will, something that just doesn’t happen when wrestling with demonic computers!

So I am hoping for some magic while I am busy creating!

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Space Between… #Poetry

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SPACE BETWEEN

Would you give your life to save me

From the space between the space?

A place where worlds bounce us from place to place.

Punishment for sins long forgotten

Crimes they say we have committed

The guardians do not listen to our pleas

No innocent is ever sent here, they say

They wait for you to be beguiled

By the beauty in some of these worlds

I have passed through ugly worlds

Where people suffer unimaginable torment

Too hideous to be written here

So far, my time here has been uneventful

I hear snatches of conversation

Some hunger for food that never comes

Others try to kill each other

My innocence falls on deaf ears

If I am snatched from one of these worlds

I will be lost forever, with no hope

Of being sent back to my own world

I heard someone say that one day

An innocent will come to rescue those trapped here

Is one enough to explode these worlds apart?

Is there an innocent to come looking for me

One who would be brave enough to step into Purgatory?

©Anita Dawes

#Wordle 404

 

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Hope is an invisible thread to nowhere

like walking through life with lead-lined boots.

There is no song to lift my spirits

my foundations are weak.

The cement is mixed wrong, it’s dry, ready to crumble

I don’t believe in tomorrow

there is no surprise waiting around the corner.

The gate is closed firmly behind me

there is no turning back.

I let the trials break my life, and I have nothing left.

My heart is too soft, I let myself be walked on.

I step inside a gipsy booth, reason escapes me

I am walking blind. I placed a silver dollar on her table

her voice is soft. Cards laid out, a mystery to me

I listen as she speaks. You have let too many people

take pieces of your life.

Your revenge was not sweet, it left your heart empty,

a river running dry.

There is time to show mercy, so you too can receive.

Start your life over, let hope carry you forward

Believe…

AAAAA

#FlashFiction 99 word Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

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May 16, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that goes in search of trees. It can be one particular tree, a grove, woods, or forest. What makes the tree worth seeking? Go where the prompt leads!

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I don’t have to go too far to find a great tree.

It is in my garden, my beautiful gum tree.

Tall and magnificent, a small amount of wind

sets it swaying like a row of flamenco dancers

I can almost hear the roots tapping away

in time with the rhythm above.

Soothing and calming my mind.

I sit there often unburdening the misery

I have accrued over the last few days.

I know it listens, never judging.

The soft sway of its leaves above my head,

A blessing, a benediction.

Gentle giants, they are the air we breathe…

AAAAA

CrossFire…with poem by Anita #MysteryThriller

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CrossFire

Snow has a target on his back

A female finger on the bow.

He may not have long to go

This life a clock ticking fast.

Blood and sand made of paint.

Does Kate still factor in his fate?

Alas, she is taken by the wind

A new female wants her pound of flesh

With arrow poised, she lets it fly

Snow is hit, his trap undone

Ruth has fled, now on the run…

©Anita Dawes

 

Excerpt from CrossFire

‘Do you know why we have brought you here today, Ann?’

Ruth thought she would ease her way in, rather than accuse her straight off, for triggering any hostility wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The woman stared at Ruth, her pale, colourless eyes searching for clues. ‘Nah… but I ‘spect you’ll get to it pretty quick…’

Ruth indicated a brown paper bag on the table beside her. ‘We found a pair of work boots at your house, Ann. According to your husband, they’re not his. Are they yours?’

Ann Taylor glared at Ruth. She seemed to be enjoying the interview, her arrogance showing through the previous nervousness. ‘Dunno, can’t see them can I?’

Ruth undid the bag and placed the dirty boots on the table. Most of the mud had dried and fallen off, but still didn’t seem like the kind of boot a woman would wear. ‘Are these your boots, Ann?’

Without looking at the boots, she shook her head. ‘Nah, I don’t think so.’

Ruth looked at Snow, but not for confirmation. She wondered why he was choosing to stay silent. What was the point of sitting in if he wasn’t going to contribute? Not that she cared, one way or the other. She had only looked at him to signify inclusion.

She looked back at the woman. ‘Are you quite sure, Ann?’

The woman shrugged her shoulders and refused to speak.

‘For the benefit of the tape, Ann Taylor has refused to answer.’

Ruth decided to read out the coroner’s report, detailing every bruise and damage to the child’s body. When she read the part about the boot imprint on the child’s back, she slid the photograph across the table in front of the mother.

‘Did you do this, Ann?’

When the woman didn’t answer, Ruth decided it was time to play the ace card, and she looked forward to it. This cold-hearted bitch of a woman was about to be arrested, but not before Ruth had enjoyed herself. ‘Are you aware that the person who wore these boots would have left significant DNA inside them?’

Ruth paused, watching as the realisation sunk in.  ‘And are you also aware that we have tested your DNA and it has been proved that you are the owner of these boots?’

The fear and shame were beginning to show on the woman’s face, and Ruth watched, wondering what she would do now. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Ann Taylor’s face seemed to implode, as the terror of being found out took effect.  ‘I swear I don’t remember that part… I know I were angry, but when she fell over and banged her head, I thought she was dead…’

‘So what did you do then, Ann?’ Ruth knew what had happened next, but not which one of them had done it.  ‘Were you aware that Amy was still alive when you dropped her into the canal?’

The horror was all-encompassing, as the woman realised the enormity of what she had done. She looked around the room, just once, before she started screaming…

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Uninvited… #poetry

 

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Uninvited

Watch out for that stranger of unknown danger

You may have brought back from a dream

That uninvited guest that won’t go

The one that lives in the shadows

He knows your name.

You hear him whisper late at night

“Come back to me, our dream is real…”

You know that it’s not possible to live by day

Then dream the same dream night after night

Yet it never stops. You see strangers wearing his face

You rush from the rain, not looking where you are going

Stepping from the kerb, you are knocked to the ground

Your world has no colour, the way it used to

As if a grey cloud has swallowed you

You wake with the driver leaning over you

A stranger wearing his face, the face from your dream…

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