Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie ~ Wordle #236 #Poetry

The mournful sound of seashell held to the ear
Being carried upward by memory
Cold arms, the odour of sea salt
Stirring the motion as he rocks me
Whispering how he no longer thinks of his life as a loner
I feel his brass buttons press against my chest
As he promises, this will be his last trip at sea
On his return, we will marry.
Weeks pass before news arrives
The Marie Celeste has been found with no one aboard
My love is lost at sea, no wedding veil is needed
No vows to make
Just tears to wash sea salt from my face
That feeling of having lost my mind…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie #361 #Poetry

Photo Challenge #361

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Striped socks, feet held close together

Almost in prayer, wondering where to go

Camera ready, campervan still to be found

Small globe of the world. All of this doesn’t help.

Old words on tape, tell of a story long lost

Time past of adventures, what to do?

Travel or paint. Time to take the bull by the horns,

Buy that campervan, keep a record of all you see.

Material for the easel later, a light bulb moment.

Why not paint a scene at each place you stop to rest?

With this in mind, boots were placed over the striped socks

They were off to buy a campervan.

Meantime, the socks inside those boots prayed

He would not lose his resolve…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie ~ Photo Challenge #360 #Poetry

Yuuki Morita

#####

There are days when I feel like a wild dog

Ready to devour anything that gets in my way

I am the silver back gorilla, king of my own urban jungle

I am expected to have eight arms

Like the octopus, to get the workload done

I try blending in like the chameleon

I feel the slow plod of the rhinoceros baked in the sun

This is the menagerie I call my mind

With bull frogs calling, late into the night

Still, I sleep with the silence of the lambs…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #234

I stop to listen to the oracle

Who speaks to me of greatness

Of a person trying to enter my life

Walking the line, fighting their way

Through the layers of time

I consider the day I let the good times bleed away

Now my tears are empty.

I have a tendency for the melodramatic

Life never comes in thimble fulls.

It so often rushes at us like a tribe of angry bees.

Having been stung, getting a bad reaction,

I know how it feels to be liminal.

One leg in, the other out, stuck between the space

While the stomach does the hokey cokey…

©Anita Dawes 2021

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie ~ Photo Challenge #359

Brooke Shaden

I have been planted deep inside Mother Earth

Hard fingered roots hold me down

Until I am ready to be born again

I am here to learn about the network

of living thoughts, we walk on each day

The ground we take for granted.

One thing I found fascinating,

Is the whispering to one another,

Their roots alive with information we will never hear.

I will not remember the things I have heard

Warnings of global disasters whisper beneath our feet

Their roots stretch far and wide

Beneath concrete pavements, under great buildings

Listening to the world above

Wishing they could do more than give us oxygen…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#MLMM Wordle #229 #Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Books take us on strange journeys
One minute, a sunny teenager
Next, we flee danger, seek shelter
Get a grip, turn the page
Dress for the next chapter
Round each new corner, surprises wait
Demons, ghosts, colour blinding moments
Wild animal chasing, you have become the hunted
Breach the empty space in front of you
Enter the new stellar universe
Stas so many you cannot count
Do you stay among the stars, or find your way home
Will you wake with the open book on your lap?
Did you read your journey, or dream it?

© Anita Dawes 2021

MLMM ~ Photo Challenge #355

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Deviantart.com

Ticky Tacky

Standing on the edge of forever
With a mist around my feet
I wish I could see tomorrow
Where we are the same, yet different.
Underneath our boxes made of ticky tacky
What hides there?
We are, by our very nature, nosy, curious.
We would like to know
what happens behind closed doors.
What are you thinking inside your tiny box?
Made from all your years.
Would you break out if you could
Surprise the world with what you do next?

© Anita Dawes 2021

For those of you unfamiliar with the expression Ticky Tacky, here is the song that made it famous…

and the lyrics…

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there’s doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

By Malvina Reynolds

#MLMM ~ Wordle #228 ~ #Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Let the records show I am indissoluble.
I would survive a sudden dipping in lime.
Some people come up smelling of roses.
I am one of them.
I am anodyne, I would not like to offend anyone.
Better I were pulled through a gathering backwards.
Where I pull my hair, trying to wake.
Ahead, I see a three-sided symbol
with a yellow dot in the centre
I feel my body sway with the low sound of drums.
A strange triple style beat
The echo rings back to my sleeping mind
Where I stare at my profile in the mirror
Wondering where the other of me has gone…

© Anita Dawes 2021