#BlogBattle ~ Myth ~ #Poetry

Billy was grandads neighbour when they were kids
Billy would be late for school, meeting his friends
They would get fed up waiting, leaving him to catch up
His mum said it was because he was a little behind the other kids.
He didn’t walk until he was two and a half
Even then, he would rather crawl, or sit where they left him.
Things didn’t get better with age, and he’s on a warning from work.
Those that know him will tell you he would be late for his own funeral.
No point telling him to pull his socks up.
His boss had blown those words into the wind
Did he feel the smack as they returned?

William, as he liked to be called, now he was all grown,
took up running, hoping it would help his timekeeping
William loved his job at the kennels, as the animals never judged him
Looking at his watch, he knew he would never make it
As he started running, his feet came up from the ground,
running faster than the wind, with two minutes to spare, he made it.
From that day on, he arrived on time, helped by the wind at his back
That was how grandad told the story.
When I asked if anyone had seen him with his feet above the ground
I did, he said. And Johnny Faux, my best mate

© Anita Dawes 2021

#BlogBattle ~ Abstract ~ #Poetry

June #BlogBattle: Abstract

Odds and sods, bits, and bobs
Throw them together
like the sherbet bits of my brain
What do you get?
A kaleidoscope look at life
A fantasy in colour
Stripes, cubes, dots, whatever you fancy
Throw all your colours at the canvas
Watch as they mix, making their own self portrait
A strange sea to drown yourself in
Dip your toe in, watch the colours rush up your leg
Turn you into a striped candy stick of rock
Now that’s my idea of abstract
Anything you like if it relates to the odd…

© Anita Dawes 2021

BlogBattle ~ Owl

April #BlogBattle: Owl

I love watching the birds in my garden.

This year, we have more birds with the feeders, including red kites in the skies above. The robin with his wonderful red breast and skinny black legs is my favourite.

Jackdaws with their pale blue eyes can look a little menacing, especially after watching a punch up one afternoon between three of them.

The thing I like best is watching the birds pulling twigs from the trees for their nest. They can be so fussy, dropping all the ones I don’t like on my lawn.

It’s a similar story from my front window.

Across the road, we have three hazelnut trees. Here I can watch the building of a nest. The resident blackbird loves to dive into the bush below beside the tree.

One time, trying to take a chosen twig with him, he left it sticking out like a flagpole.

I must confess; I know nothing about owls apart from what I see on TV.

Silent when flying for their food, their cry haunting, like the cry of the lost, still wandering the afterlife for a home.

Their beautiful eyes give off a sense of loneliness, but maybe that’s just me and the strange feeling I receive when watching them.

Our feathered friends, a reminder of days walking with dinosaurs…

© Anita Dawes 2021

BlogBattle ~ Revolution

February #BlogBattle: Revolution

February 2021 Blog Battle

The word this month is:

Revolution

My dad had a lot of crazy ideas, this one was the best crazy yet.
Mum said it would be in the yard by
the end of the week with the rest of his junk.
The hugest telescope I had ever seen.
Dad and I put it together, learned how to focus it.
That night from the spare bedroom, my heart jumped from star to star.
fourteen years old and I know what I want to do with my life.
I told dad I wanted to work at the Hubble Observatory.
That night I witnessed my first spiral galaxy.
I had fallen into one of mum’s bible stories.
Revelations came to mind; something began for me that night.
Mum was right, dad will be bored by the end of the week.
Some might say, dad had been marked by the beast 666.
a number that drives the crazy in him.
mum wouldn’t like to hear me say that,
she would be crossing herself half the day,
saying Jonathan, mind your tongue!
Before going to bed, I made sure dad knew I wanted the telescope.
He smiled; we didn’t need too many words,
I knew the scope was mine…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#BlogBattle: Charm ~ #Poetry

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#BlogBattle: Charm

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Old, yet never world weary
Built when a time passed slow
When people could not be asked to rush
Romance meant holding hands
Walking out for months
Getting to know each other
Where a look from across the room
Would have you spellbound
Unspoken words, understood by the heart
So much old-fashioned charm, lost to time
I would wish it back, where a gentleman
holds the door open for you to pass
What charm is there, in todays panicked, rushed world?
I want to tell you that charm remains.
I had a young boy, of about twelve
Hold the door to the chemist open for me
I was bowled over by his charm
I smiled all the way home
How had he learned to be so polite
So charming…

© anita dawes 2020

#BlogBattle: Miniature ~ #Poetry

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Margaret Jones will be fifty-nine on Friday the thirteenth
Lucky for some. Not for Margaret
She had lived alone all her life
Her miniatures are her family
She talks to them, to her they are real
Imagine her horror when he burst into her home
Black mask hiding his face
Throwing her into her armchair demanding her money
She had none to offer
Having slapped her more than once
Margaret could no longer hear his voice
Her eyes glued to the miniature family
On the mantel above the fire
Silently praying he wouldn’t destroy them
As I said, she is not so lucky
With a swipe of his hand he dashed them to the floor
Stomping them beneath his greasy boot
Again demanding her money
As he moved around the room
Margaret could see pieces of her family
Being scattered across her old carpet
Her heart breaking, she whispered a curse
My family will seek their revenge
Before the last slap took her soul from her body…

©anitadawes 2020

BlogBattle: Exotic ~ #Poetry

#BlogBattle: Exotic

October 2020 Blog Battle

Our word this month is:

Exotic

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New Magic

Merlin no longer walks the halls of Camelot
Where Arthur lost his love
Where Knights search for the Holy cup
Dark castle walls crackle with magic
Old lightning storms echo through forest glades
Whispering spirits can be heard, worry not,
time will return, new magic will be found
Blown in by eastern winds
Exotic sounds beat against your eardrums
Foreign yet fresh, east meets west
Blending, folding into new ideas
New religions, new magic from old…

©anitadawes 2020

#BlogBattle ~ Conceal

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#BlogBattle: Conceal

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay

He heard the sound the minute he walked into the dining room to start work removing the ugly fireplace.

A faint scraping sound echoed around the room, but where was it coming from?

His mind returned to the job in hand, the removal of the totally unsuitable faux marble fireplace. He swung the large club hammer at the bolster chisel to separate the cheap surround from the wall. Seconds later, the scraping sound set his nerves on edge. He winced.

“Don’t be daft…you’re imagining it!”

But every blow he made was answered by the sound that seemed to be coming from the walls.

Once the fireplace lay on the floor in pieces, he started to carry the pieces out to his truck. Each time he returned; the noise greeted him. 

What began as curiosity and amusement, slowly turned to annoyance and he couldn’t decide what to do about it.

He had to be imagining it, for he had moved in six weeks ago and not heard anything before now.

Maybe he should just ignore it.

Instantly, as if it heard his thoughts, the slightly louder sounds seemed to argue with that idea.

He slowly walked around the room, pausing at each wall but annoyingly, he heard nothing.

Three of the walls were brick, but the one adjoining the kitchen was a partition wall, plasterboard on a timber frame. He remembered building it the week before, and if there was anything trapped, it would be in that one.

It was getting late, and he was hungry. Whatever was going on would have to wait until tomorrow. As he turned to leave, the noise began again, and the sense of urgency was palpable.

He reached into his toolbox for his utility knife and approached the partition wall. Carefully, as he couldn’t remember exactly where the power cables were, he cut a sizeable hole and using the torch on his phone, he stretched his head through to see what the wall might conceal.

He could hear something moving about. He tried to see what it was, but the hole was too high. 

Minutes later, after cutting a hole at ground level, a small, bedraggled cat crawled out, barely alive.

But how had it managed to get trapped in there?

©Jaye Marie 2020

August #BlogBattle ~ Tea

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#BlogBattle: Tea

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August 2020 Blog Battle

Our word this month is:

Tea

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

Most people rave about coffee…

“I wouldn’t drink that stuff if I were you…”

I looked up at him, my cup of tea on its way to my lips, wondering why he bothered with his objections. “What stuff are you referring to?”

“Tea… filthy stuff, it’s got more caffeine in it than coffee. Can’t be good for you…”

I wanted to ignore him, refuse to become involved in yet another tedious argument, but found myself speaking. “I read somewhere that tea is good for your heart and your blood pressure. Which is more than can be said about the muck you drink!”

He snorted like a pig. “That’s a load of rubbish! Has to be, it’s just a load of old leaves…”

“Very special leaves that come from the Camelia shrub. Did you know it was once so expensive it was kept in locked boxes?”

“Best place for it, if you ask me…” He reached for the tv remote. I had him on the run.

“They have been drinking tea for 2000 years in China, and then there’s the Japanese tea ceremonies…”

“Still no reason for you to be guzzling it, though…”

As I stared at him, he looked at me, with what I thought was a flicker of defiance in his eyes. Oh no you don’t, I thought.  “If you want any supper tonight, you’ll be a dear and go and put the kettle on… and don’t forget to put the milk in first. Just the way I like it…” 

©Jaye Marie 2020

#BlogBattle ~ Wretched

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#BlogBattle: Wretched

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July 2020 Blog Battle

The word this month is:

Wretched


(Dictionary definition)

Living in misery
Attended by misery and woes
Inferior in performance or quality
Very unpleasant: deplorable

For the past two weeks, it has been a case of all the above, since Anita, the head of our family had a nasty heart attack. She also had pneumonia, which was complicating matters even further, but due to the corona virus lockdown, we were not allowed to visit her in the hospital.

So for seven miserable and wretched days we worried our socks off at home, wondering what was going on and how Anita was feeling.

On the third day, we managed to acquire the number of the telephone, which was conveniently right next to Anita’s bed, which enabled us to speak to her and find out how she was feeling and what had been happening. This contact was a godsend for all of us and went a long way to keeping us from self-detonating!

Anita is back home now, but the misery is still present, although not as intense as it was before, as she is still very ill. She has extensive damage to her heart and as yet no way of knowing the exact prognosis. There is a waiting list for the MRI which will ascertain the damage, but until that day arrives, wretched will unfortunately be the order of the day…