The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 484 ~ #Poetry

The morning after the party
I found my father’s old tape
In an old cassette player
Alongside a box of tapes
It contained his black wall stories
Press play, his first story, entitled ‘The Child’
Through narrow dark streets
The child ran, her bare feet caked in mud
Something had taken her the wrong way
Her bare feet could hardly hold the ground
Eight-year-old girl, running for her life
Dark shadows behind her
In her tiny hand she held her mother’s key
She is tiring, whispering a prayer
For help, for hope
 She calls for her long dead mother
Where had the small blue light lead her?
Is it safety that awaits her?
To be continued…
I was hooked,
it felt good to hear my father’s voice…

© anita dawes 2020

From a hospital bed…

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

My story

The story of my life has not been played out yet. 
 The end has not been written.
At least not in the way I want it to.
God will have to hold fire on giving me
the key to the pearly gates
I don’t need to know what lies within
Not yet. 
So far, I have managed an encore
I mean to make it the longest one in history
Keep watching this space
I’ll be back…

©anitadawes 2020

#Keepitalive #Whatdoyousee #Poetry

What do you see # 16 February 10, 2020

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Does this picture inspire you to write something?

 

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Reflections by: Yunus Emre Uzun

( I had to join in this week, as this image compelled me!)

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The Shoes

 

A chilly wind tried its best to make its way through my coat as I walked the short distance from my car to the supermarket on the icy path.

A young man in jeans and a duffel jacket, probably a student, was playing the accordion at the edge of the car park, the soulful, lilting music sounding out of place on such a cold, unforgiving day. Judging by the lack of coins in the hat in front of him, he hadn’t been there long, and I wondered how long it would be before he gave up and found somewhere warmer.

A little further along the path I came across the pair of old shoes that I saw yesterday. They hadn’t been moved and looked for all the world as though someone had just stepped out of them.

As I passed, I thought I saw one of the shoes move and stopped walking. As I stood there watching, the same shoe moved again, and then again. Could it be trying to tap to the rhythm of the music?

The student had begun to play another tune, this time a lively piece and the shoes responded, both feet keeping time with the music. More and more people were gathering now, smiles on their faces as they witnessed something that should have had them heading home in a hurry. They showed their appreciation by dropping coins into the student’s hat, and soon the hat was full.

When the music finished, the student bowed to the assembled audience and picked up his hat. He made his way to the shoes and put them on, and it was only then that I realised the shoes were his and his feet must have been freezing…

 

©Jaye Marie 2020