Christmas Snow… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

 

I remember Christmas with deep snow

Yellow streetlights glowing

Changing the way the world looked

Landmarks vanishing

You walk with remembering

Breaking through snow as if you know where to go

Each step crunching like rice pops

Beware of walking too close to trees

They like to dump their heavy load as you pass

Like mischievous children throwing snowballs

I remember nights with the full moon

Stars too many to count

I look down from my window and wonder

Did God make extra stars to fall with the snow?

That shines, sparkle, brighter than those above

Late night snow, reflecting heaven

Earlier footprints filled in as if some

Unseen hand had swept the carpet clean

As my mum does before we go to bed

I love this memory…

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London… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

 

Silent faces walk the streets of London

Never stopping, no smiles to give away

Tourists, cameras flashing

Strange sounds assail your ears

Like too many bird songs

Chalk art on pavements that should be seen

Trafalgar fountains spraying

With Nelson watching all

The bells of St Martin’s ring

To someone in need of prayer

Get your shoes shined here

Take a piece of London home

To say you visited here

Artist’s paintings hang on railings

Visit museums if that’s your thing

Ride an open top bus, hope there’s no rain

See the street vendors, card tricks

Stick pins in their flesh

Take the bus that sails on the water

Walk the pink roads, see Buck House

Give a nod to Queen Victoria as you pass

Stop for lunch, ride the London Eye

Before you take the train home…

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#Writephoto: Calm

https://scvincent.com/2018/11/08/thursday-photo-prompt-calm-writephoto/

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Image by scvincent.com

 

Happy Places

I live on a very busy street, we have traffic twenty-four seven.

However, I can close my eyes and within seconds, I am on top of Mount Snowden for the morning.

Later on, I will jump a cloud and sail past the moon, blowing kisses to my favourite orb. Then swim in the Milky Way on my way home. One last stop before work. I am off to the coral seas to swim with my favourite clownfish. They make me happy, therefore my mind is calm.

There are so many other doorways in my mind that I first learned to walk through while at school. The trick is choosing the right door for the moment. I have so many places where I can hide, if only for a few moments.

I know there must be many of you that do the same thing, especially when writing. The mind can take you to some strange places…

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#Writephoto: Glimmer

Thank you to Sue Vincent for another lovely #writephoto prompt!

 

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Image by Sue Vincent

 

 

Glimmer

My aunt once told me about an old legend about the woods in Sleepy Hollow, Hampshire. If you go there at midnight, you might be lucky to get a glimpse of your future. I thought it was nonsense, but would try anything once.

It was beautiful there. Fingers of moonlight danced between the trees, lighting the path before me, so far no strange manifestations, no flickering phantoms.

The deathly silence gave me a chill. Aunt and her strange stories, I told myself. Then I noticed a light shimmering to my left.  You could be forgiven for thinking someone had dropped a handful of sequins. Thing is, they hadn’t reached the ground. They danced between the trees, heading for the cliff edge where I didn’t like to go, not being good with heights. I had no choice; I had to follow the faint flickering as best I could. I knew it was leading me.

The trees now behind me, and there she stood, right on the edge of the cliff. Long dark hair, slender, wearing a pink summer dress. From what I could tell, she could be in her mid-twenties. Why was she contemplating her end?

What could I do?

I heard my aunt’s voice in my head,  Don’t shout, think of something. I noticed a large stick lying on the ground. Picking it up, I used it as a crutch. Lifting one leg, I moved closer so she could hear me.

“Miss, please, I am lost and hurt, I need your help.” I heard myself pleading, “Please turn.”

Once more, I called,” Miss, please…”

She turned.

The moment I saw her face, those dark eyes and tears on her cheeks, her soft lips trembling, I knew I would marry this vision, my own woodland nymph.

Slowly she moved towards me and helped me back to the road. I couldn’t let her go and I didn’t. Twenty years later and we are still married.

You see, I believe the light that led me to her was her soul, her spirit, calling for my help…

©Anita Dawes

 

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#Poetry: The Rose 1975

 

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The Rose

The rose stands in the garden bare

No petals on the ground, no perfume to be found.

Silver frost and sharp thorns adorn her now.

Cold and silent is the rain, Spring a long way off

Memories of long summer days, the heat of the sun

Soft dew on her face, the bees having fun.

Now the warmth has all gone, she stands naked and cold

Waiting patiently all winter, she slowly grows old.

She will not lose her beauty though time comes and goes

Each summer brings a miracle, a peaceful lovely rose…

©Jaye Marie1975

Death on the Stairs!

 

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When I first saw this photograph, I was shocked at the stupidity of it.

Trying such a death-defying stunt just to decorate a stairway seemed a very stupid thing to do.

Then my mind took me back to the early days when we did so many silly things, trying to put food on the table when the kids were small. I remembered the house that we were hired to decorate. Gloss paint on all the woodwork and a very expensive wallpaper on all the downstairs walls and of course, the stairs. Nothing very complicated, we thought. A piece of cake…

Now, I am very tall, but that doesn’t help with old houses with high ceiling

We had a ladder, but that wouldn’t be any good on the stairs. Then I remembered the exercise bar that I had at home. The kind that spans a doorway so you can do pull-ups. With a bit of luck and a following wind, we could clamp it across the stairs to take the other end of our scaffold board. Make sure it is firmly fixed and level, then we could balance the stepladder on it to reach the top of the wall.

At this stage, I have to confess that I don’t like heights. I get nauseous and more than a bit giddy, but we needed the money.

Praying to all that was Holy, and armed with a carefully pasted and folded length of wallpaper, I ascended the ladder. It was very wobbly and I fully expected to fall and end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped up like a parcel in soggy wallpaper.

Those of you who have papered a wall will know that a fair bit of stretching goes on as you align the paper, trim the top and smooth all the bumps and air bubbles away. Several times, I swayed precariously on one leg but managed to complete my mission.

What I didn’t know at the time, was all the near heart attack moments that Anita was having as she tried to keep the ladder steady. She was in the perfect position to see just how dangerous it was and how close we came to disaster.

We had a lot of fun in those days, taking incredible risks, and some impossible jobs. This particular job was memorable for another reason too.

The owner of the house had several celebrity friends and they would often have to duck under our ladders as they came and went. The best day of all was when Bucks Fizz visited, and Mike Nolan signed his name on Anita’s arm! They signed their latest record for us and told the world about the crazy girls who were decorating their friend’s house!

So, taking risks was worth it that day!

Not every job had such high spots. Like the time Anita knocked over a tin of white gloss paint all over a dark chocolate coloured carpet! The owner caught us trying to scoop up the paint with spoons, and we expected our marching orders (or worse!) But they couldn’t have been nicer about it.

By the way, how are you supposed to wallpaper stairs?

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We want to send a very big THANK YOU to those readers who boosted our follower list to 1000 last week…

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Another Trip in my Time Machine…

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I am taking another trip in my Time Machine to a time at Clapham Common when we had gas lamps in our square. The man would come with his small ladder to light them every night, and again in the morning to put them out.

Mum would send us out to pick up the coal left in the road after the coal man emptied the sacks down the coalhole. He was always so dirty and so was the small boy that sat on the horse-drawn cart.

The man on his bike with the grinding wheel would call out, and mum would send me down to get her knives and scissors sharpened.

The one bike I looked forward to was the ice cream man. If I was lucky, mum would give me three pence for some of the best icecreams. So much better than what was in the shops.

Mum didn’t often have any rags for the rag and bone man, so I didn’t get a free balloon that often.

All these things seemed every day then. Looking back now, they are magic. All that fun without an Xbox!

The best thing of all was Billy Smarts Circus. They would pitch the tent on Clapham Common and very often, we would get in free under the canvas. Elephants, tigers, the clowns, and best of all, the high wire act. Watching them swing so free across the ring, never dropping one another. With my head tilted back, I could believe I was flying with them.

On my way home, I would stop for a while and watch the men with their model motorboats on the pond where they were allowed to play. I preferred the ones with sails, the old buccaneer kind.

Time to go home for tea, maybe I will take another trip on my Time Machine soon…

Anita’s Time Machine…

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Mr Edwards ran the baker shop not far from where we lived, and Mum would often send me for a fresh loaf, warm in my arms, smelling like heaven.

All the way home it was so hard not to take a bite. I did once and that was enough. The best thing for us kids was the fish and chip shop. If we took in an armful of newspapers, we could walk home eating a free bag of chips.

On hot days, we could get a cold drink from Mr Tom’s sweet shop. He offered one-penny drinks or a small one for a halfpenny. When you had been running around, it was better than popping indoors for a drink of water, for Mum would ask why was I so hot, and what had I been doing. Spending that halfpenny was best.

It was always easy to come by a penny or two. Take the rubbish out for Mrs Kindle, or sweep the yard for old Mr Wright. I ran many errands and often earned enough to go swimming and buy a bag of broken biscuits on the way home. For a penny, I could spend all day in the paddling pool.

For five pennies, I could spend an hour in a tin canoe rowing myself around the small island in the middle of the pond. When our time was up the man would call us in by our number and I always wanted canoe number 5.

Oh, for a time machine so I could take my kids back and show them how I lived and how I played…

Anita Dawes

Writing Inspiration

 

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This collage is some of the photographs I have from Cornwall, my favourite being St. Nectan’s Glen. I have stood beneath it, getting soaked to the skin, and climbed up the rocks and stood looking down at the majesty of the thundering water. The sight and sound of it put something in my soul that I know wasn’t there before. It was a truly wonderful experience, and if I had the money, I would move to Cornwall just to be near it. And I would love to go and experience Niagara Falls too! (mind you, if I did, I may never come home again!)

If you ever feel a little bit worthless or a waste of space, and I believe a lot of us do feel that way sometimes, you need a place like this. You need to be able to see and feel something that you just know is stronger and more powerful than anything you have seen or felt before. Once you find it, you will be a different person, believe me. I always love to be near water, any kind of water. I wanted to live on a boat when I was growing up and it still appeals to me.

The first time I went to Cornwall I was not really prepared for just how much that County had to offer. Apart from all the quaint old villages, there were magical forests, wonderfully rugged beaches and coves, dramatic rock formations and inspiring scenery everywhere you looked. I have had more inspiring moments in Cornwall than just about anywhere else.

I need some of that inspiration round about now, as I am still trying to finish my fourth book and find myself dragging my heels. I am at the stage when things should start to happen as we approach the conclusion, one of the most important sections of any book, in my opinion. For some reason, my mind is foggy, reflecting the autumn weather, and I desperately need some clarity. This year has been hard, trying to cope with a brain that is uncooperative at best and empty on occasion. Something keeps telling me that this may have to be my last book as the constant struggle to see, remember and keep on track is becoming a problem. I am refusing to listen to this voice in my head. I will continue somehow, even at a slower pace.  One way or another I will get it right and get it done, but where is my inspiration at the moment? I think it has gone to Cornwall without me…

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Anita’s Journey to the Planets ~ Mars

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Mars

 

 

I was born under the star sign of Mars, our Red Planet.

My firstborn, a daughter, my husband too, all born under the Planet of War.

Three hotheads in one family, can you imagine the heat?

Yet when I think of Mars, I am reminded of Rome and the Gladiators. The giant arena, the Tigers and the blood spilling red. So many people baying for more death, more bloodshed. The sand on the arena floor now the same colour as the dusty red surface of Mars.

I am reminded of the saying, “As above, so below…”

It is hardly surprising that some people think we originally came from Mars, as we all have a war-like tendency from time to time, no matter what star we were born under.

It is almost time for me to move on, but I will linger a few minutes longer, bathing in the warm red glow of Mars.

I look back at the red Planet receding behind me and head towards Venus…

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Join me tomorrow for my journey to Venus?