This is a Hellebore… the Christmas flower…
Are you ready for a theme prompt? Eugi, from last month’s challenge, picked the theme for this month.
This month’s theme is:
Bells ringing Christmas cheer children singing Santa’s reindeer wait gifts wrapped; ribbons tight around the world in one night there is no naughty list this year each child will receive his heartfelt wish Santa’s milk and cookies wait by the fire… ©AnitaDawes2021
For some reason, and I don’t question this too much at my age, I feel very optimistic about the coming week and I would like to wish that everyone has a brilliant week too!
Twelve stones did an altar make The divine number, enchanted by legend A scented feather to light the way Through ice cold tunnels Breath, spread, sparks, words glue against the ice walls Few make it this far, searching for the ancient brew That comes from the majestic twelve Those that hold the secrets of the universe Of everlasting life Would you drink from the sacrificial elixir?
© AnitaDawes 2021
Love remembered Something familiar disturbs my sleep, my thoughts Knowing is not enough to reveal all It feels old, far away out of reach Yet demanding, needing to be found Understood, remembered Music I don’t recognise steals part of my day Strange scent assails the air, faint, almost recognisable The way passing someone wearing too much perfume as if walking through a half-remembered fog Leaving sticky fingers on my memory Nails clawing the dark corners of my mind Where the knowing hides My dreams like the dark spaces I remember him, but sunlight washes it away All but his voice, my name whispered from his lips Wait for me, I will return This voice I know from the many lifetimes past Why must love be lost like ships passing Can destiny be tricked to let us love again…?
© Anita Dawes 2021
His good luck reminded me of Siamese twins Impossible to separate The slot machines never let him down Would that I could obtain that bounce in his walk That lucky people seem to have They never take a left turn that leads the wrong way I knock on wood, still nothing I keep a record of their habits One wears a lucky cent on a chain around his neck His first piece of luck won on a toss, heads, or tails Another tells me, only play when it feels right It’s a steep learning curve On my way home that night I find a black cat brooch Picking it up, I pin it to my t-shirt Knowing I would be lucky from now on Each turn of the cards, each spin of the wheel Will play for me…
© Anita Dawes 2021