Fragmented Time… #Poetry



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I am resurrected from dying dreams


From the ash that surrounds your world.

Like your Frankenstein, I am made from many parts

In my hand I hold the glowing fragments of time

Dark clouds hide me from the sun

Nothing works the same where I am

Rain flows upwards, the stars shine in circles

Wind blows only from the north

The moon rises when and where it pleases

Day is night, night is day

Things change in the blink of an eye

Our numbers are few, our world is fading

In order for me to remain in the universe

I must steal one fragment of time

Hide the remaining parts for humanity to find…





Odd Time… #Poetry



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Odd Time

I found out recently that time does slow down

As if wearing lead boots

It’s when the earth does a strange wobble

Weirder yet, is the way I keep seeing the clock at

10:10, 11:11, 12:12 I could go on.

In the middle of the night, on the loo

No matter where I go, I spot the double digits

My favourite is the triple. 2:22, 3:33, and so on

I have been told it’s meant to mean

I am in tune with the universe

Thing is, I don’t feel in tune, I wish I was,

for life would be so much better I am told

 By those who feel they know

I have yet to find out what this means for me

As I believe we are all different

Surely it must have a meaning.

I promise you; I don’t deliberately look for it

Maybe it’s just strange timing and has no deeper meaning

Yet I can’t help wondering…

Anita Signature

Don’t Wait… #Poetry



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Forget the clock, time ticks on

Without your face to look upon

It needs no human eyes to see

The long journey across land and sea

Nor what flies within its wake

It is the mire we muddle through

Navigating high tides and low

Making fortunes as we go

Time and tide, they say, won’t wait

So, move you’re a***e before it’s too late…



The Clock… #Poetry



The Clock

Time that never ends

Ticking, beating out a rhythm

That endless noise they say is silence

My ears bleed, my mind screams

Trying to remember

The clock has blood on its hands

I am outside looking in

I hear bones breaking, flesh yielding

I cannot write such dark passages

Of a love gone bad

The look of peace on her face

Happy to be gone from this life

That look haunts me

Did love, mercy guide my hand in this?

Did I take the life I love so well?

The sickness changed the one I knew

The shell left behind

No longer holds the love

That held me to her

That ticking clock has beat its last rhythm

As I lay down beside her

I hear the ticking clock no more…



Faster Than You Can Blink…

Faster Than You Can Blink...

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When did life get so fast?
It’s as if we are on a merry-go-round, and everything around us is becoming a blur. This was brought home to me this morning as I drank my first cup of tea. I was watching the sky get lighter, gradually changing from inky black to grey, wondering what kind of day it would be.
Would it be boring, or eventful maybe? Busy, for sure, my cluttered desk an indication of that. As I watched, the sky became suffused with a gentle pink glow. Gentle fingers of soft pink stretched across the gradually lightening sky.
Even as I watched the wonder of it all, it faded away in an instant, leaving no trace behind. It made me think of all those sunrises and sunsets of my youth. Was it my imagination, or did they seem to last for ages?
Was my memory at fault, or has the world become a much faster place?

My photographic skills are not ideal; my glimpses of nature’s marvels tend to be squeezed between rooftops and lampposts as I live in a busy town, but in a way, more precious to me in spite of it.
Every glimpse is precious to me, and my collection of photos grows daily. I am supposed to be sorting through them all, as there is apparently a limit to what my PC can store. But I am having trouble finding the time for far more important tasks, so my eclectic collection with have to wait.
I didn’t make any resolutions this year as I couldn’t bring myself to think positively about anything much. Being diagnosed with breast cancer just before Christmas will do that to most people, I should think. For all I knew then, I might not have much time left to worry about anything. Now, it would appear that I shall be around for a while yet.
This latest personal drama has been a timely reminder that time is not elastic and no amount of cramming and stretching will make it grow or change the outcome.

Last year, I tried hard to promote all of our books, but despite all of my efforts, failed quite spectacularly. Now, I know it isn’t easy. I also know that my brain doesn’t handle technology well, so I’m not really surprised with the lack of results. I seem to manage to blog quite well most days, and do my best to communicate and support our fellow bloggers. (Even though it takes me away from writing, which will always be my first love)

I shouldn’t think anything will change much this year. I will continue to write, blog and promote, but the desperation seems to have gone. If I never get anywhere, it will not matter. Not really, for I enjoy what we do too much. My time, in particular, is not finite, so the pressure is off and I am looking forward to the coming year already.