#Writephoto ~ Dream

Thursday photo prompt: Dream #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a pale pathway meandering through a field of purple heather towards the green of distant hills.


When your soul needs a recharge
Take a trek through a field of wild heather
Feel the soothing purple dream time
wash over you. Let your mortal eyes
see beyond the pale path
To new horizons
Hold on to everything you love
Grab each chance as it comes
Let tomorrows troubles
Run like water beneath your feet
Keep looking to the stars…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Silver #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Silver #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a beach in the half-light, bounded by dark dunes and holding a silvery pool of water that mirrors the sky.


I was beginning to think
I had left my mind out on the rain
It’s beginning to rust
Like some old hard drive.
Time to take a walk
Grab the flip flops
Feel wet sand
squidge between my toes
That magic moment between
Light and dark
Maybe I will be lucky
Find that silver doubloon
Hidden on the beach.
I stood watching
the sky painted water
Feeling something more
than sand between my toes
Could it be, dare I look?
Whatever it might be
I pushed it further into the sand
Something to look forward to
Tomorrow…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Soar #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Soar #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a sky full of dark, stormy clouds against which four large birds are silhouetted in flight.


Dark clouds
Dark fallen angels
Painted by my father
Locked for weeks inside his studio
I would leave food outside
Never see it vanish
Empty plates returned the same way
As if by magic
My father had become invisible to me
All but his voice.
Like the four horsemen
Let these black winged creatures
Enter our world
Hearing his voice this way
Gave me the chills.
Could my father be
calling evil into the world?
After he died, mother said
We should burn it
Send whatever thoughts he had
Back to where they came from.
I could not.
The painting hangs in my studio
Where I hear my father’s voice
As I paint dark clouds…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Secret #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Secret #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows an old wooden door framed by ancient stone, with an ornate key inserted in a rusted, heart-shaped lock.

Dare to Touch

In a dungeon, deep beneath the castle
Lies a door with a heart shaped lock
A quarter piece missing.
This had me intrigued
Are we allowed to enter to
find the missing quarter?
Legend has it that to find it
touch it, to hear the heartbeat
You leave a quarter piece
of your own heart behind
to make new ones
for those who are in need.
Something about the legend speaks to me
I heard the familiar beat
so I dared to touch the beating heart.
The secret is, there is no secret
The legend spells it out.
Would you touch the beating heart?
Leave a part of yourself behind
In some forgotten time and space?

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Veiled #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Veiled #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green horizon, beyond which the mist veils a hill topped with strange rock formations.


Driving through the canyon between the land
Feeling like the filling in a sandwich
I found it hard to keep my eyes on the road
The rocks reaching high above my head
Shrouded in mist felt more interesting
Than our destination
Something ancient still lived there
I felt its presence like a memory
Each rock, each tree, each blade of grass whispered,
you have been here before, we miss you…
I felt lightheaded, as if I were floating in a dream
From the back seat came a shout, Mum, watch out!
I slammed on the brakes.
Someone stood in the middle of the road
Before I could hit him, he vanished
I couldn’t bring myself to tell my family
That moments before I had seen that same figure
Standing in the mist between the rocks
Watching us…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Guardian #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Guardian #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com


For visually challenged writers, the image shows a flower-strewn cliff-top above the sea, where a rocky outcrop, seemingly shaped into many forms and faces, looks out over the waves.

A line of white foam caresses the rocky shore

Like a ribbon on a blue iced cake.

Soppy moment over,

I noticed a field of flowers beside a rocky outcrop

The faces there, taking me back to my childhood

when I played cowboys and Indians with my brothers.

There he stood, looking out to sea

My Cheyenne chief, minus his feathered head dress.

Noble, forever watching, guarding the land

His tepees may have fallen, the buffalo hunting long forgotten

Their whispering spirits walk the land in soft moccasins.

Brother spirits whisper back,

we remember brother bear, tree, and sea

We remember the proud Cheyenne nation…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Painted #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Painted #writephoto

 

This week Sue Vincent has chosen a rather lovely image for the prompt.

Shades of Monet there, I think…

 

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a rather oriental red bridge over a  pool covered with waterlilies and surrounded by trees.

 

Woodland Scent

What lies beyond the red bridge?

Tantalising, teasing, a sound calling me

Daring me to fight my way through the trees

I cross over the shining lily pond

Following the sweet melancholy sound

Of someone singing

Their sorrow filled the air

I felt it, a delicate touch

A small hand brushing against my skin

The scent of woodland must be messing with my head

I reach a clearing where a large tree had fallen

I sat awhile, the strange sound surrounding my head

Again, the touch on my arm

There she sat, beside me

Her eyes the colour of moonlight

Her hair, fallen snow, so delicate

One touch would crush her

I dare not move for fear she would vanish

So beautiful a wood nymph

As any painter would wish to put on canvas

I thought of Monet

How well she would look on his lily pond

Her tiny frame would not look out of place

Realising that the singing had stopped

I remember thinking I had not seen her mouth moving

Her words entered my head

You must save the woodlands

We are many, unseen by human eyes

We need the trees to protect us, to live…

With one last touch against my skin, she vanished.

My mind turned upside down

As I walked back across the bridge

Turning to take one last look

I swear I could see her sitting on a lily pad…

©anitadawes 2020

 

#Writephoto ~ Dance #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Dance #writephoto

 

Sue Vincent is the host of Thursday Photo Prompt

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a pale sun piercing the mists above a green path through a golden field, leading into the centre of a circle of stones.

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They Dance

Our star hung colourless

Unable to pierce the grey mist.

As I walked, the green path

with golden fields flanking my sides

I could feel the loneliness

The empty forgotten dance.

For a moment, I wanted to stop

Walk back leave these grey stones

With their ancient memories.

That thought compelled me

To walk on into the circle of stones.

I could barely make out the bank of growth

along the skyline. The mist hung thick

as I entered the stones

I lost the feeling of loneliness.

Replaced by a knowing

I was waiting for something to happen

No, not something, someone

To come back through the mist.

She came towards me

A dark-haired beauty wearing

a white dress that reached the ground

Her arms held out towards me

Before I left the stone circle

I danced with an angel…

©anitadawes 2020

 

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#Writephoto ~ Causeway #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Causeway #writephoto

 

This week’s prompt ~ Causeway

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a calm seascape in half-light, with a pathway of stone leading through the waters towards the horizon.

 

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Beyond the horizon

 

I stand barefoot on the wet sand

beside the ragged rocks

Of a long-forgotten causeway

Beneath a soft blue sky

with the straight-line horizon before me

I await for evening

As I have for the past 72 years

To stand beneath the blood moon

Once every ten years

When the Isle of Lenora can be seen

whitewashed walls gleaming under the red moon.

The first time I stood here I was twelve

My father told me the story

Never believed I had seen the shining city,

I think he was disappointed at never having seen it himself

After so many years, time passed,

I believed my father when he said I had imagined it

Now I wait on wet sand, wondering how I can reach

Beyond the horizon to enter the white walls of Lenora…

©anitadawes 2020

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