#Writephoto ~ Presence #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Presence #writephoto

 

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Image by scvincent.com

 

Dreaming

I am lost in dreaming

The feel of your hand in mine

Dark lonely nights remembered

Inside the tall grey stone

Our time has fled

The circle closing

Ancestors whispering

Their footsteps echo back in time

I see them still

When the mist is rising

Happy, smiling,

their tall grey sentinels protecting

a way of life no longer remembered

scant mention in printed substance

should you visit the stones

you will find us here

a sudden breeze, a warmth

a whispered song

a sudden shimmer of grey

around the standing stones

don’t say, am I only dreaming…

©anitadawes

#writephoto

Christmas Past…

 

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Image by Jaye Marie

 

We have always been a family that goes all out for Christmas. It was always a very special occasion for all of us.

Right back when the children were small, our living room would be transformed into a magical fairy land.

We were never well off and for most of the year, life was tough but one way or another, the stops would be pulled way out at Christmas.

Our tree and the decorations were legendary, and the ceiling would literally be covered in crystal droplets, stars and tinsel garlands.

One year, we had the opportunity to move to a new house on Christmas Eve, so we packed everything away and reinstalled it all in the new place. It took all night, but that Christmas was very special.

 

My own childhood was dismal, I don’t remember celebrating any Christmas or birthdays, so I became obsessed with making up for it when I grew up.

We have always tried to come up with a different theme every year and have had trees of every colour and size. Once we even had an upside-down tree!

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image by Jaye Marie

 

Christmas Present

 

Sadly, this year is going to be different. The family are all grown up and some are married with their own families, so we won’t be spending Christmas Day together for the very first time.

We will, however, be celebrating with them on Boxing Day instead.

Time moves on, we are getting seriously old and beginning to feel a little bit left behind. The thought of Christmas future is out of focus, a distant dream that may simply fade away…

 

©jayemarie

 

 

 

 

Remembering…

 

This is the time of year when I remember my father, thinking of what could have been if the Second World War hadn’t taken him from me.

I pay tribute to the man who gave me my height, my patience, my creative streak and my weird sense of humour all the time, but especially on Remembrance Sunday.

I know all of these things about him because people have told me what he was like. How he looked and sounded when he sat at the piano, belting out popular ragtime melodies.

They laugh when they tell me how funny he looked, stomping out the beat in his huge army boots.

I have lived all my life with these images, but have no way of knowing if they are true because I never met him. He didn’t return from the war and never met me.

I like to think that my life would have been so much better if he had come home, for my mother never got over losing him.

People say I shouldn’t feel sad for someone I didn’t know, but in a way, I do know him. He is a part of me and it certainly feels as though I knew him well. As well as I know myself.

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I wrote a post last year about these ice soldiers, and you can read it here.

When we moved to Hampshire, one of the first things I wanted to do was visit the coast. Something I have done many times since, but on that very first time, we walked past the D-day Museum on the seafront. There was a huge tank outside and this bronze statue of the Unknown Soldier. As I studied the soldier, something about his posture and bearing had me imagining that this is what my father would have looked like.

To me, my father is the Unknown Soldier, and I like to think I will get to meet him, one of these days…

©jayemarie

Days Gone…

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Days Gone

I heard a shadow scream

With bodily form within

My heart wrenched with need to help

The cry held the tears of the world

Weighing heavily on my mind

Stepping into the darkness

I heard the whispered words

She took my life, I was flushed away

I cannot move back nor forward

My spirit lies in limbo.

I knew this spirit, my mind

rushed back to my 11-year-old self

On instructions, it was my hand

that flushed this small body away

my life went on. It’s now in later years

I hear the echo of those days…

©Anita Dawes

#Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge…

Colleen’s 2019 #Tanka Tuesday #Poet of the Week & Honorable Mention(s), No. 142, “Character & Wild,” #SynonymsOnly

 

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Old

Toy box

memories

Hidden treasures

hands no longer play

Time trapped in an old chest

Why do we keep these old things?

When we have no time left to play

Too often life takes joy from our hands

Why is it so painful to throw away?

©Anita Dawes

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Hidden box… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

In a box hidden from sight

My mothers love letters

Have come to light

Written in 1944

A soldier’s heart she craved

Soft word written with

Such passion

Tear stained aged paper

Belies the woman who

Stands before me

Was it this lost love that turned

her heart to stone?

©AnitaDawes