A New Week Begins… with a Wordle…

I wasn’t ready for the week to start, as still immersed in my WIP. I have made amazing progress, (some of Anita’s alchemy) over the weekend, so it does seem a shame to switch off that part of my brain,

So, I won’t.

Luckily, Anita has been busy too. A new poem, I Cannot Live and The Sunday Whirl Wordle, so I hope you won’t miss me today!

The Sunday Whirl Wordle

Love is a kind of alchemy
It leaves you feeling 
as though you have drunk too much
It teases your mind, 
searching for that silver lining
Your eyes blinded by the sparkle 
of the gold ring on your finger
The dirt crumbles beneath your feet
Fools say they will never fall in love
They sit alone at the bar, 
drowning their sorrows
Sometimes I want to shake them 
by the back of the neck
Tell them there is alchemy waiting out there…


The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 534 ~ #Poetry

There he stood, caught in my cross hairs
scar on his nose lit by the sun
the brown bear that had left his mark on my back
I held my breath, my body taut
The light behind my back
The Gods had cast his fate into my hands
He turned to face me
His gaze that of a dragon, flames at the ready
For a split second, I felt myself in grave danger
A host of thoughts entered my mind
One being, last time I didn’t have a rifle
Feeling armed, I stood my ground
All those scribbled notes of revenge vanished
As we locked eyes, I could tell he had no interest in me
I lowered my rifle. Today, we both live…

©Anita Dawes 2022

Image by Pixabay.com

The Scarlet Ribbon ~ #UrbanFantasy

Wordle by Jaye Marie

Worry is a terrible thing, it steals the quality of life from right under your nose, reducing your world into a place of doom and gloom. We have been sitting on a massive worry these past six months and have refused to start the new year until we had good news.

I have desperately tried to keep everything normal, finish my WIP and keep the website going, but have to admit it was a poor imitation of the real thing, and I apologise for that.

I have not been sharing much of this with our friends and followers and this may seem strange after all your incredible support when Anita had that massive heart attack in 2020. Your love and good wishes pulled us through that terrible time, but when disaster struck again last year, it seemed far more serious, and we really felt that talking about it might make it worse.

Anita’s heart is still severely damaged, and despite having two stents and a pacemaker fitted, it only barely functions. When a series of lumps started to appear around her neck last year, the alarm bells started ringing again.

Because of the raging virus and all the hospital delays, it took months to have the lumps investigated. The consultant mentioned cancer and after deliberation, they finally decided to remove part of her thyroid. Surgery was a problem as they didn’t think her heart was strong enough, but they said that delaying it was not an option.

A nightmare time for all the family, especially Anita for she can’t abide hospitals at the best of times. My sister has never been ill and to be struck down by two life threatening illnesses almost at the same time seems very unfair. She made it through the surgery without incident, but we had to wait two agonising weeks to get the results of the tests.

By this time, we were all terrified and sick with worry, dreading the news.

The day of the appointment, I felt sick to my stomach but somehow kept a smile on my face. I think I held my breath when she was called into the consultants office, but five minutes later the door opened and she rushed out of the room, a massive smile on her face. We watched in amazement as she ran out of the ENT department to a standing ovation from the nurses.

By this time, we knew the news must be good, but I wanted to know how good. Just before we all reached the lifts, I caught her arm and made her stop walking. ‘Well,’, I said and waited.

She stood there and laughed at me, and I didn’t think she was going to say anything.

‘THERE IS NO CANCER,’ she shouted.

All the way home in the car, she kept saying those words, and her relief was wonderful to see. Despite the odds, her poor old ticker had survived the surgery and she was cancer free.

But four days later, we had to rush back to the hospital, as Anita was having trouble breathing. She is now back home, but it seems that worrying isn’t going anywhere after all.

She is looking better, although still very weak and breathless much of the time. The list of her medications grows ever longer, but … and you may have noticed this, none of what happened has stopped her writing her poetry.

Now all I have to do, is get my own head back together!

I hear a voice telling me to run
A hollow sound here in the darkness
Held by a disembodied voice
Telling me there is no touching where you are going
No interfering
You will not be calling any place you see, home
That is the place you left behind
You will be given a chance to earn your way back
You will take nothing from this place
The darkness pulsed around me like a living entity
I thought of those waiting for me to come home
Jack, my husband
What have I done, why must I run?
I feel the rain on my skin, a memory
Jack’s whispered voice, here in the darkness
Maggie, you must come back, I miss you
A new voice nagged at the back of my mind
You liar
I am being pushed into the light
It’s not a place I remember
Strange faces, a woman tries to wave me away
Telling me I don’t belong here
Tears on the face of a small child pull me forward
She needs my help, her home is filthy
Her tear-streaked face a charcoal smudge
Her tiny hand clutching a red ribbon…

© Anita Dawes 2021

No Lanterns Glow… #Poetry



Image by Pixabay.com




Rain clouds

No star shine

Shadows creeping

Touch the midnight ghost

See your future revealed

No lanterns glow where you go

You walk the road of broken dreams

Your soul called to a higher purpose

To build a glowing bridge for their return.


Jaye’s Wednesday Wordle… #Poetry


Blue skies, a brightly coloured tablecloth

Can mean only one thing, we are having a heatwave

Mother’s face covered in flour from bread making

Bright coloured balloons, outdoor living, picnics, barbeques

Steaks beaten to within an inch of being too thin

I hear the twelve thirty train passing at the back of our garden

Wondering how they are liking the heat inside those flying tin cans

Half of my mind wished I were in one of those carriages

On my way to a snow filled wonderland, Canada maybe

I decided to take a walk, slipping out of the back door

Crossing the small rail track through to the woods

The shade, the cooler air welcome

I hear a voice, no more than a whisper

Say where are you going, you must go back

I did not hear the whisper “Go back.”

Those last two words came back to me in the form of an echo

I was struck by a sudden feeling of urgency and rushed back

Everything seemed fine, until I couldn’t see my father

Searching, I found him collapsed in the shed

At the hospital I was told, if I had been five minutes later

The outcome would not have been so good

A mild heart attack

But whose voice sent me running back home?

This is something I will never know

Yet will remain forever grateful…


#Wordle 402 #Poetry



The River

It was the view from the window

That made me fly from the city to settle here.

I could float here all day

let my small boat drift off where it will

I hear the river sigh, sing a song long remembered

A declaration of love

I am here when you need me

I sense the peace afforded, the charm of letting go

Crows line the treetops

I am reminded that the river also brings death to those

Who don’t respect its ways

When the season is right, it will push back on itself

The tidal bore, a strange sight

A wall of blue water running backwards

As if it is collecting something forgotten

As I glide through the river shallows

I am reminded of where we came from

We are the light that glows above

Holding all together as brothers

We are fallen diamonds

We are stardust...



#The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 400



Sacred Site

His newborn wings formed by ancient light

Lift him high above England green and pleasant land

Yet bittersweet the sight below

Broken monuments where stained glass no longer glows

No limit to pilgrim’s footfall

Still, they come to climb the ridge where the tower stands

Soothe worn out feet in water that ever flows

Quench their thirst from the White Spring spray

Where no salt lies within

Joseph’s blossom tree has stood the test of time

Offers shade, rest awhile

Hear the whispered songs of old

Feel the beat of ancient wings where power still remains…


#Wordle 394 ~ #TheSundayWhirl




Running towards a dark passage

My legs were filled with concrete

The Other is right behind me

I hear the sound, heavy clang of metal

The chain he carries, a reminder of pain

This is no Halloween prank

The Other keeps pace with my fear

No place left to run

I lean against the gate

the metal bar pressed to my back

I rub sweat from my eyes

Instinct tells me to jump the gate

I have no plan to defend myself

The sound of the chain, closer

Made heavier by the darkness

The Other steps from the dark passage

wearing my face…


#Wordle 371



Wordle 371.jpg


On Golgotha Christ did make his stand

Did hear the knock as nail hit wood

Mary’s face full of tears

On bended knees, she waits, to watch her Son

Before He goes, she hears the soldier’s awful plans

To do the same again in days to come.

A fact of life in Roman times

Here guilty bodies line the roads

Blood mixes with the earth below.

Mothers worry about their sons

They know their plans to change the world.

Roman law, not for everyone

Life is bland for women living on desert sands

No sex planned, no life renewed

Until men come back from freedoms fight.

Rome ruled for many years

Leaving blood and tears in their wake.

England shakes beneath the spear

Some will stay, while others return to Rome

Where mothers wait.

How many sons are lost by pagan rule

Now England’s left to stand alone,

A blend of old and new.

©Anita Dawes

#Wordle 369




In the valley of shadows, I lay her down

A love that could not stay.

As I drive away, instinct reminds me not to speed

Her letters in my back pocket would give the game away.

The only child of a poor Bedouin, cursed at age ten

To never stay for more than a year and a day.

There comes a stage when life’s raffle takes all breath away

Your numbers up, the spirit calls

The buzzer sounds and down you fall.

Before my strength is gone

I will finish what I started.

My words blow across the valley floor

I tell her that I will not leave her there

I will wait a year and a day

Find a way to break the curse.

I promise her we will live together

For more than a year and a day…

Anita Dawes