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A brighter future from you and Cancer Research – fundraising – For the moment it does require you to give your details but it is safe. I am working on a more streamlined alternative option. Meanwhile, bear with it – every little bit helps – even the price of your next coffee?

In aid of CR

Hi.  Periodically, I will be calling on friends here and the writing community at WordPress for your support and ask that you either simply text BGON64 to 70070 (for those here in the UK) and donate a small amount or use my donation button below (any country) to give whatever you can (even your next cuppa) to help us at Cancer Research and Breast Cancer Research.  As a breast cancer survivor, I can sincerely say that your help is more than appreciated.

Cancer Research is not government funded and is responsible for a high percentage of the major breakthroughs we have seen to date.  Without you and me, those breakthroughs will not happen.  So don’t let this being UK based put you off donating. Regardless of your country, your generosity will one day give the gift of life to the world.

The Just Giving page is verification and will also tell you all about my own reasons and action plan for the foreseeable future.

Thank  you very much!

Anita x

JustGiving - Sponsor me now!

 

 

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Frivolity, My heart

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Wouldst thou call
on love’s embrace
and its clumsy cuffs
of flimsy lace
to wrap warmly
and surround thee

when spectral lights
adorn the sky,
and snow ghosts,
haughty, loom at night
only to come and haunt thee,

and if thou were touched by such
as she and her lustrous trumpery,
wouldst thou still forswear
under this black maire,
our undying love, but yet vow
to leave me?

Wouldst thy call on it?

Table for Two

A varied year so far, I am looking forward to getting back into my garden, new plants, growth and sun trying its best. Think happy thoughts and dirty nails, love it! Though this poems does lend itself to sadder times, fictitious but long.lol. Too busy to write and so….hope you like it.

As it Comes

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Within the garden – satisfyingly
green and monumentally trim –
there are those places; nooks
and crannies, rough creased hideaway
crevasses for creatures – a sanctuary
for bugs and the windswept soil
now stowed and packed tightly away,

right above the empty trails left
by birds, save for the heavier crumbs
scattered at lunch time and as if to say –
we know where you live.

The crumbs left at elevenses lie beside
a time before creaking bone reminders
that Rome wasn’t built in a day, and when
an internal lunchtime clock alarm signals
a mid way point of no return.
The hot sun causes a symbiotic relationship
with the beaded pad teetering on the brink,
and inharmoniously ill at ease on aching
shoulders – aching, but freestyle dancing
to the inevitable tune and building
crescendo of pain.

Chimes from my stomach sound
before the sun’s beams would definitely scour

View original post 887 more words

Celebrate Good Hearts

 

Pic source: One Green Planet/NBC News

My small tribute to Dame Daphne Marjorie Sheldrick, DBE a Kenyan- British author, conservationist and expert in animal husbandry. She saved and nurtured many fragile species. She was a recognised authority on the rearing and reintegrating of wild creatures and was the first person to perfect the milk formula and necessary husbandry for both infant milk-dependent elephants and rhinos and a host of other species for over 30 years, finally losing her battle with Breast cancer.  Both battles are close to my heart.

Flames die in the cold
For warm hearts to light the way
We are all orphans

Breakers

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This mortal coil
is all aches and follies; in its foil

I did all
with my bestest smiles,

until your singing guile saw me
and lingered,

and drew me up into your eyes –
and you snagged me,

sang to me,
said to me
all your dreams.

So,
here I am,
here I am, I linger –

in all your tomorrows as they wait
to hold you dear
in my bestest waters.

In usual waters
did you dream about me?

Were you hearing
when I was here?

E’en though you were sinking near,

Here I am, here I am,
save me
for your tomorrow.

In these breakers
be forgiven,

take me all you need,
needlessly.

Save me now,
save me forever;

sleep with me on infinity’s
sleeve.

Imprinted always in our minds,
but left abandoned in eternity.

And, I Can Breathe

Jasmine Flower Flowers Beautiful White Delicate

When a heart sinks,
and rivers overflow,
tsunamis explode
onto our everyday,
and love implodes
unceremoniously,
like dams bursting…
Nothing makes sense.
Poetry’s nonsense,
like flowers bending
in sultry breezes
and banks of Jasmine
surrendering their fragrance
confuse my way.
What is happening?
All I know is,
my heart sank
when you left me.

Simple!

Shark Fins – Soup… Anybody?

Why not?

As it Comes

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Thousands of sharks without their fins die out
there in the tortured waters – unable to breathe,
and left to suffer immeasurable pain
as they spiral through the depths of aqua marine
to be feed for marauding fish. Without movement
these ancient creatures cannot extract oxygen from
the water, from its life source and in the world they
have ruled for 400 million years this caretaker of
the oceans falls prey – guilty of a bad
image -to hysteria and legend, to the uneducated,
the myths, the whispers and ignorant reasons – oh yes,
and soup; an affectation that comes at a huge price
with all the benefits that high levels of mercury
and hydrogen peroxide brings. So pretty up those
fins for the masses – enjoy your soup and fake
remedies! Butchers line the pockets of those who
flaunt regulation – the real culprits who care
little about their own health care even less

View original post 216 more words

Flaunting Hatred

Flaunting Hatred.jpg

Poem was inspired by a fabulous artist and a poem choice for his art.  I’ve just recently began following.   Please go and see the work of Anthony Grootelaar.  The picture is unrelated.

I begged him to love me,
but not for nought
as music played in the draught
of what I sought.
I scoffed his imperfections
liaised with wit
when laughter ran unescorted
on a matter of mutual concern,
and yet, through his brutal demeanour,
tenderness rose
befitting the night.
Perchance I could love better –
but only after death.