#Wordle 409 #Poetry



Many of us live in self-made cages

Somewhere across the border of my mind

I find no sleep. My cells are dying.

Try as I might, I cannot deny

The ravings of my mind.

I trip, hit the floor

The stench of evil assaults my senses

Why do I find myself lying

in blood soaked mud beneath the cross?

I watch as his side is pierced

I hear thunder, the voice of an angry God

Lightning, breaking the dark patch of ground

I am quivering on

My clothes soaked, stuck to my body

I wonder, how many bars of soap will I go through

Before I am washed clean?


#Small Bites… Clock

Small Bites



They say that not all souls want to move on

some cling to objects they loved

I have my mother’s grandfather’s clock in my hall

I swear to you, at twelve o clock it strikes thirteen

Is she there with her beloved clock?


Broken Glass… #Poetry



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Broken Glass

Each step I take I am sinking deeper

as if walking on hollow ground.

Life is a cracked mirror

splintered images of self

looking back at me

each with a different expression.

I have lost myself in a

kaleidoscope of broken glass.

Which piece holds the real image of me?

Are we truly at the mercy of fate?

Do new winds change the things we look at?

I pray my eyes see the truth

before I am dragged into the mire…


Shoes… #FlashFiction




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My son decided he would take me out for the day

He wouldn’t tell me where.

We drove for a while and soon enough

I could smell the sea.

After lunch, we took a stroll down the local high street

Dragging me into a toyshop, crammed to the rafters and I worried I might be buried alive. I found a gold and blue trinket box.

The young man serving said it was a wishing box.

“Write your wish on a bay leaf”, he said. “And place it in the box.”

I had no desire to engage, so I paid with a smile.

Back home, I decided to give it a go. What did I have to lose?

Keep it small, I thought. I had seen a pair of suede shoes, over my price range and was hoping they would come down in price with the help of the wish.

I have my shoes now. The next day I almost broke my ankle when the heel snapped. I wondered, nursing my ankle, was it the wish or the box?

Where did the misfortune come from?


The Days are Far Too Short…




Writers the world over must be grateful that someone invented Indie Publishing, but I wonder why they didn’t invent a better way of marketing the books we create while they were at it?

By better, I mean a way we can understand and implement, a system that actually works?

Now, I know I have a problem with technology, but I have tried my best to make head or tail out of it, and, overall, I have managed to understand and even utilise some of it.

Most writers are not wired to master marketing.  We want to write, not blow our own trumpets. The mere thought of being more visible than we have ever been in our lives is enough to chill our blood. We understand that we must make meaningful connections on social media, have book trailers on YouTube, for marketing is all about knowing, liking and trusting, but we also know there is so much more to it.

The experts say it is okay to begin with baby steps, sharing everything we do, but where do we go from there?

Do we…

Make a plan for our marketing activity?

Get excited about our progress and share the excitement?

Keep pushing the boundaries of our comfort zone?

Learn new techniques?

Try paid advertising, even though it is an expensive nightmare?

Keep changing all of our keywords, hoping to hit on some that work?

Need a newsletter, podcast, more trailers, FB ads?

Have we checked we are doing all we can on all the media sites?

I have tried most of these, but there are simply not enough hours in the day for everything!

There is no easy way we can implement everything we learn.

There is also the writing to consider, as this is the most important part of your marketing campaign.

Somehow, writers must learn to manipulate time, prioritise until our brains bleed, and hope we stumble upon the magic formulae…

(unless someone out there has already discovered it, and if you have, please let us in on the secret!)






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                                   Would You Like a perfect life?

Who wouldn’t?

But could you describe in great detail the perfect life you would have if you could create it yourself?

First, you have to decide on the basics, the where what and when.  Then you will need to create a list to help you compare your life now with the one you want to create. List all the things/people/ scenarios that need changing and why.

Then make a list of what you would need to do to make it work. Then make another list detailing how nothing would change if you do nothing.

Do you believe in your dream and yourself enough to make it happen? Or do you intend to wait until everything looks easy?

Consider what would need to be done and if you could actually do it?

Do you trust yourself enough to make these judgements?

Do you find yourself making bargains with yourself – If I can do this, then that is possible?

Once you know, really know what you want to do, are you brave enough to do it? Or will it be a daydream, a constant torment of what you cannot have?

How do you get past the lifelong notion that good things only ever happen to other people? Have always happened to other people, like in the movies?

How do you get around the idea that you are too old to entertain any of this? Simply writing things down does not make things happen or fears go away.  Does it?  No, it does not.

If what you want to do or change is so huge, can you test yourself and the theory with a smaller goal? What else do you want or need, or is this just another stalling mechanism?

Maybe you should focus on something beyond your capabilities. (stretch yourself.)

This is something I do all the time.  I never think ‘I can’t do that’. Being a bit of a crafts person, I look at something I like, usually expensive or unattainable and think, ‘can I make one of those? and I have a go.

You know, most of the time what I come up with is good, even if I do say so myself.  Maybe I was a forger or counterfeiter in a former life.  I think the moral is that you have to try, as you don’t know what will happen. (and it can be a lot of fun!)


My Not So Perfect Life

Throughout my life, disasters of one kind or another have befallen me, both before I was old enough to do something about them and afterwards.

I never made lists of the things I wanted to change, of all the things, people, events that were wrong in my life.

No, I just got on with life (such as it was) and soldiered on, changing what bits I could and keeping my mind on everything else that I wanted to be different.

Some things I have never been able to change, and it has not been for the want of trying! But my mind never lets go of the idea of my perfect life. My Shangri-La.

Again, nothing changes. Same old hopes, dreams, and frustrations.

I know what I want, but something stops me from doing anything about it. So what the hell is it?

I have always resisted new things, but usually, have the courage to do what is necessary. But this time, what I want is seems selfish and will upset a lot of people.

Is it worth it?

Will I regret it?

Do I still want to do it anyway?

We have to stop putting up with things, out of duty, guilt, pity- or simply the dislike of change.

We have to recognise what we no longer need. They say if you haven’t used something for a year, you no longer need it, so throw it away. (and that can apply to anything)

Start with little things and build up to the big stuff. Somewhere along the way, you will get braver. (Hopefully)

Mark bad days on the calendar and at the end of the month count them. Were there more bad days than good? If there is, something needs to be done and soon.

There are more bad days than I would like on my own calendar, but not as many as there once were. For not only have I changed a lot over the last few years, but my acceptance levels are also different too. I no longer yearn for what is obviously impractical and that has a lot to do with my advancing years. They say that youth is wasted on the young and I guess that’s right. I sure as hell wasted a lot of mine, but what is done takes a lot of undoing…

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I was bored the other day and started thinking about my heroes. If I could spend fifteen minutes in their company who would I like to shake hands with?

My number one is Elvis Presley, not the man on the silver screen but the man behind it.

HG Wells. I would ask him to take me on the time machine. We would ride back in history and I would shake hands with Shakespeare, ask him to give me tips on writing. I would love to sit and have coffee with all the great poets, to hear their voices and feel their passion.

I have a list of heroes as long as my arm.

Sathya Sai Baba, so I can see for myself if he can do all the things I have read about him.

The Dalai Lama, so he can tell me if he really feels reincarnated from the last Dalai Lama. I might need more than fifteen minutes here.

Then there are all the fictional characters I love. I would like to spend time in the jungle with Tarzan, being wild and free. I would spend weeks in a cave with the wizard Merlin. Magic and legend, I cannot get enough of it. I would save time to sit with Pythagoras, Tolkien, Hans Christian Anderson, to name but a few. John Dunne has a way with words that stay long after I have read them.

If I must pick only one hero, it would be HG Wells. He could take me back to ancient Rome and Greece, to watch the pyramids being built.  I would barely remember to stop for food, for I want to know everything, see the past, right back to the beginning of the Big Bang.

The Bible, and how much of it is true, Adam and Eve, the Garden of Eden. Moses parting the sea. The burning bush, I would like a few words there too. Moses should have come down that mountain with a lot more than Ten Commandments. Jesus, healing the sick, how much to believe. I think there is a little truth in all things. Myth magic and fairy tales are my past escape. Angels, not so much, although I would like to fly, to be like my childhood hero, Superman.

I used to steal my brother’s comics and read for hours, imagining I was all kinds of people. Tomorrow, I would be Achilles, fighting with his Myrmidons.

I think I should stop now and jog back to my own time…

Who would you like to spend time with?

©Anita Dawes