Empty Streets… #Poetry

I told my story to the empty streets of London
While the stars stood witness to my pain
The day I witnessed Heaven burning
Leaving me with no way home
I fell to earth before the flames could reach me
My story told, before I reached this realm
With so little truth to tell
Yes, my wings are less than white
Because my tongue I could not hold
For speaking out against the Mighty One
Now they are singed beyond repair
I cannot go home without His help
Sorry is the hardest word, it burns my throat
I must find a different way
to find my rightful place among the stars
Leave the empty streets of London
To their own way of sinning…

© Anita Dawes 2021

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37 #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #Poetry

door-1587023_1920

What would you do if a strange door popped up in your bedroom?
A weird twilight moment
There are no signs, yet I feel it screaming, stay out, do not enter.
How many of us can resist the temptation?
Slowly, I push the door open, stepping into the dark space.
In the blink of an eye, I find myself in the centre of London.
Standing in Trafalgar Square, Nelson towering over me,
Four black lions standing guard, tour buses,
on their way to show eager eyes the Queen’s House
with its high black gated railings
Smart soldiers stand ready while the Queen sleeps,
Flag flying high on the pole.
There is plenty of culture for those who wish it.
Street art drawn with bright coloured chalk.
Step inside the History Museum,
see how small you feel against the giant dinosaurs.
Sit on the pews of St Martins Church
Take a rest before going on to Piccadilly,
where Eros stands with bow and arrow in hand
Ride the London Eye, high above the River Thames.
Take a red bus to where you left the strange door,
hoping it’s on the tourist route…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Cold Christmas… #Poetry

Image by No-longer-here from Pixabay

Cold Christmas

I recognise the darkness, the chill in the air
The Christmas wish that didn’t come to pass
The lonely streets of London
So many feet rushing by
The occasional clink of a coin drops in my old hat
A kind stranger
placing a wrapped sandwich in my lap
I sit here on borrowed time with one wish in mind
To find a table with space for me to sit
Join in a Christmas feast by a warm burning fire
Christmas crackers waiting to be pulled
To touch the hand beside me in grateful prayer
Thanks spoken for the warm food
The chance to part of a family Christmas cheer…

© anita dawes 2020