Colleen’s #Poetry Challenge…

#TankaTuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 289, 9/13/22 #SpecificForm: Shadorma

Image from ~ Shadorma Poem by Anita Dawes

Sweet Water… #Poetry

Sweet Water

On knees of broken glass
I crawl towards the sea
My home, my family lie beneath the waves
The pain of having legs drives me on
I reach the sweet water, my life
Letting myself sink into darkness
The pain gone, my tail restored
I find my kingdom as I left it
Father, cross at my foolishness
Will the memory of pain
Stop me returning to the land?
He will try to call me back
I will feel a different kind of pain
The loss of his love
I am water, he is land
We cannot be...


Stop Press… #Poetry

I never thought these words
would drop onto my keyboard.
I am convinced I have killed someone.
I don’t remember why, or who he was.
My memory, half hidden in a fog,
We both held the knife.
I remember he was left-handed.
He lunged first, twisting away.
I received a deep stab to my left thigh.
He fell past me, I spun around,
my knife lodged in his back.
He fell on my kitchen floor.
Trouble is, there has never been
a dead body on my floor.
The two-inch scar on my thigh
tells me there should be.
I have no explanation for the mark he left.
A childhood accident has been suggested.
Others say it could be an old memory
From a past life we carry forward
Once in a while, the scar itches
Reminding me of something
I cannot fully remember…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Words… #Poetry

Words, small treasures
I have many favourites
Love, kiss, cuddle, friends
Picnics, Christmas, birthdays
I write them on a card
Keeping each one safe
In my bedroom chest
At the bottom of my bed
You see, like pick and mix
When I dip in and pull one out
The word there, a sweet memory…

© anita dawes 2020

A ghost am I… #Poetry

A ghost am I

I search the world, I cannot find
A place beneath the sun
No home no family
No hands to touch to hold me close
No memory of the time when love was felt
I see the cloud in their eyes
Cold, undefine shapes I recognise
From picture book of ghosts that haunt
Stories told on nights dark slate
No figure past by mirrors shine
The image seen; I know is mine…

© anita dawes 2020