#Water… #Poetry

 

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Water

Sapphire world of midnight, magic rises,

a gift for the world of mortals

The water queen spreads

her magic across the globe

Whether you want it or not

Baptisms, blessings, bathing, we all use it

Not realising it has a memory

From where it was born

Each person it has touched good or bad,

it matters not, water flows where it will.

Beneath the ground, hidden caverns

Through the graveyards where the dead sleep

In eternal slumber

When we thirst, we drink to stay alive

Whose memory do we take upon ourselves.

©anitadawes

Won’t Stop…

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Won’t Stop

Imprisoned by rain that will not stop

I look through glass and see my road has gone

A river runs outside my door

Neighbours waving, waist deep

Small boats float by, the people wave

As if out fishing for the day

Life goes on, the postman calls

Food and drink delivered

to those who have lost ground

By helping hands, we will not starve

Tv rescued to the upper floor

Lights still working. Blankets dry

We snuggle down to wait for the river

To find new land to sink below

All safe inside our own kind of Noah’s Ark

Our homes will not float away

When land reappears, friends will help friends

To dry life out, until next time she floods

We smile, knowing we are safe for now…

Anita Signature

WATER…

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Water is such a simple thing, so much a part of our lives, but how often do we ever think about it?

In the Western world, we don’t have to worry about whether we have enough of it to drink or grow our food. Most of us don’t have to contend with having far too much of the stuff either, watching helplessly as it destroys and washes away our lives.

This made me think of all the things that water has washed away over the centuries. We use it to cleanse, removing dirt, germs, and all manner of other nasties. When you watch all that dirty water going down the plughole, how many of us give a thought to where it goes or what happens to it?

We live in a self- contained world. Everything we have on this earth has been here forever, and that includes every single drop of water. No new supplies can magically appear to help us out when needed.

The water you washed your face with this morning might be the very same water that prehistoric man washed his feet in. Chances are, we are drinking the same water as Cleopatra or Joan of Arc.

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How is this even possible, I hear some of you say. It must be pure conjecture on my part as it makes little sense. But our planet is a remarkable recycling machine. It has to be, for we cannot hop over to another planet when we run out of things.

Then there is another concern. If the water we use today really is that old, how is it even safe to drink?

Quite apart from man’s efforts to clean and filter our water, our lovely planet has that covered too. Everything we use ends up in the ground, filtering into rivers and eventually the sea. The sea is incredibly salty, purifying anything that falls into it. The sun evaporates the salty water, where it ends up floating around in massive rain clouds, just waiting for conditions to be right to chuck it all back down at us.

I think of all the times I have tried to wash away the pain and tears, disasters and mistakes in my life. The good stuff is often washed away too –  and I often wish I had cherished these moments more and made them last longer.

These moments have to last us a lifetime, and it is only towards the end of your life that you realise just how precious they all were…

Brainwaves… not heatwaves!

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My brain never ceases to amaze me, and if you think about it, it just shouldn’t happen. For at my age, 72, you would think I would know my own brain pretty well by now.

This week, Tuesday was the day from hell, at least that’s what it felt like. So hot, my energy lasted about thirty minutes. For the rest of the day, I hauled my over-heated, sweaty body around, trying to at least look as though I was working.

I gave up about 4pm, for by that time I thought I was dying. I had drunk copious amounts of water in an effort to stay hydrated in the extreme heat, so couldn’t quite understand why I felt so bad.

That night was worse. Just as hot, and what precious breeze we had during the day, had vanished, leaving the humidity climbing the walls. Not much sleeping was done, and it wasn’t for the want of trying either as I still felt ill!

At one point, I strolled around the garden in my nightie, pondering the possibility of sleeping out there. So blissfully cool and peaceful, I really didn’t want to return to my stiflingly hot bedroom.

 

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Somehow the morning arrived, and the sun was not in evidence, so it was noticeably cooler. As I drank my first cup of tea, my brain produced one of its early morning flashes of inspiration. Not a new thing, you understand, but surprising considering the day I had yesterday. I do most of my best writing at that time of day.

It seemed to be firing on all cylinders, so I switched on the PC to explore the new found ideas that had appeared literally out of thin air. Then, supercharged with all the coolness and enthusiasm, I found myself in Waitrose at 8.30 doing a quick shop. Would there be no end to the surprises today?

I hope it’s not as hot today, as I have work to do!

 

 

Mermaids Tears…

 

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I think the greatest magic on this earth is to be found in water. Any kind of water, whether it is the powerful oceans or the peacefully slow moving rivers.
I have found magic in mighty waterfalls and simple rock pools, and love nothing better than being close to it. I have spent many happy hours beachcombing, looking for shells and driftwood, and the occasional piece of sea glass.

Sea glass, or mermaids tears, as it is sometimes called, is just ordinary pieces of glass, chemically weathered and tumbled beneath the waves to produce beautifully smooth frosted pebbles.
This process takes a long time, and each piece contains its own mystery of where it came from and how it ended up in the sea. It could be from a shipwreck or a message in a bottle, the possibilities are endless. It can be almost any colour, but black is supposed to be the rarest, although it must be hard to spot among the pebbles on a beach.

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Sea glass has been called a reverse gem, for most of the gem stones that we recognise have been made by nature and refined by man. Sea glass is the opposite, but I suspect it is a lot more complicated than that.
One thing has always puzzled me. Why isn’t there more to be found? I have searched for most of my life and only found a few pieces, probably because I am looking in all the wrong places.

Whatever the truth of it all, I think it is magical and I treasure my collection.
Maybe it is because I too am flotsam, thrown up on life’s beach. Waiting to be found and treasured by a fool like me…