A single key hung from the ceiling The room filled with the colours of a rainbow The church had been derelict for years I was transported by a single thought Suspicion rose like a frozen hand at my back The mediums could be right about the curse on this old sacred place No time to elaborate now I shuffle forward the small distance towards the altar Remembering the key above my head After making the sign of the cross I climbed on to the altar, snatching the key Now all I needed was the keyhole To find the treasure hidden in Rosslyn Chapel My search continues, no keyhole as yet I am not the kind to give up I will find the book of St, Germaine… To be continued ©AnitaDawes2022
#Whatdoyousee #WDYS #Poetry
What do you see # 122 – February 21, 2022
I fell asleep fully formed Drifted into a world I do not know I am bone, blue metallic, shining Drawn towards the thin red door I am under the control of an unknown force I have no choice but to enter You are a non-entity You will not return to flesh without the key Like Hercules, you will go through many trials If you wish to return to your body. My bones float through silence Through a strange, coloured soup Odd forms drift by my voice ring out, no answer I hear myself screaming, where’s the key, I need the key My wife nudges me in the ribs They’re on the hall stand… ©AnitaDawes2022
#Writephoto ~ Secret #Poetry
Thursday photo prompt: Secret #writephoto
For visually challenged writers, the image shows an old wooden door framed by ancient stone, with an ornate key inserted in a rusted, heart-shaped lock.
Dare to Touch
In a dungeon, deep beneath the castle
Lies a door with a heart shaped lock
A quarter piece missing.
This had me intrigued
Are we allowed to enter to
find the missing quarter?
Legend has it that to find it
touch it, to hear the heartbeat
You leave a quarter piece
of your own heart behind
to make new ones
for those who are in need.
Something about the legend speaks to me
I heard the familiar beat
so I dared to touch the beating heart.
The secret is, there is no secret
The legend spells it out.
Would you touch the beating heart?
Leave a part of yourself behind
In some forgotten time and space?