Mandibelle16

#NaPoWriMo Day 14: Poem – Free Verse – “Whatever it Will Be” #amwritingpoetry

“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.”

Credit: Hasan Almasi via Unsplash.

Confusion, push through a weighted-wall,

Punch through brick each day.

Scattered concentrate, bleeding buckled, blood slick.

Sometimes it’s okay, a veil so thin it’s passing through sheer silk-organza;

Some days this uplifting breeze, and energy pulses, as if anything were possible.

As if nights could be replaced, vodka-slime and rye-and-gin, no waiting.

Not night’s you’d ever feel ill; all endless Luna-lit trails.

Smiles and dancing, no worries, the possibility of everything;

Today was good, and it wasn’t lonely, not exhausting.

Not a day-past, but a new one made, no-weightedness, no tiredness, no foggy dreams.

No friends downed by c#%^*r, MS, anxiety, addiction, and the wait for good news.

No, loved ones nearer to that other door, where we’re all lost.

Stories created, old ones read with smiles.

No fun times done, no ones personality alters with time or pain.

A world. alight in history, the here-and-know, in all its possibilities,

Light lingers in each window pane.

I like those days — hope the future can have such moments as dear,

As the thrill of lost nights, and the wisps of memories.

Clear and vibrant, not tinged with the weight of whatever we all face,

But, twilight’s marmalade sky shifts —

Mango, vermilion, that tanginess of night.

Wilting sunflowers, dried,

For some reason, some tomorrow’s are Mind-numbing,

No shoes to walk-in and understand, if others don’t want.

But I love those bright days, those times I‘m strong,

Even if I’ve endorphins a moment, a few seconds,

Where I’m tac-sharp before the haze settles.

Sleep for a moment, only to wake hiking a trail, along a wild pathway — meteorite-dust trails.

Someday, whatever it will be.

Photo Challenge: Poem — Free Verse “Sky-Waters” #amwritingpoetry #MLMM

Thanks to NEKNEERAJ for hosting photo challenge.

Credit: Google

Sapphire bubbles float in the sky,

Dreamland ships are at port; the clouds laced with gold.

We’re journeying where I cannot know, to that unknown somewhere.

It might be difficult but there’s healing in these waters.

Davey Jones can’t escape his wretched locker,

And the seas are clear, crystal, and diamond.

And up we float from ocean to sky,

No lightening here, only the suns wayward blaze.

And breezes blow us away from the frothing,

Creatures yanking us below to perish.

Each day is fraught with the difficulty, but only a few with great pain,

And we learn to climb the mast, to let fly the sails too.

Maybe we’ll surprise the moon, let the light beam a tad longer.

Keep the darkness from falling, and the stillness of ice-cold waves —

Lovely the dawn with its orange pale-blue glow,

The waters of dew and the waves of the sun;

The storm might’ve wrecked us, but we’ll travel on.

We’ll traverse until the ship divides into whirlpools,

Or into green brilliance of atmospheric northern lit skys.

For now we ride sapphire wings shoot enemies with gold canons,

Giant fishes and vulture, both gather teeth gnashing all ’round.

Somedays grim frowns, soar backs weigh us down–

But so much learning can be absorbed in the sky-waters of morn.

Marmalade sky’s or savage seas.

It’s okay to be drowsy in sunrise,

The red horrors of morn fade, and the day somehow —

Builds endurance and progress,

Possibility, even if it’s minute.

A ray of hope jumping from skyline to shore.

Bringing tranquility though they’re be dim sights ahead,

And the black holes of brokenness.

But oh, never mind fear in the sky-waters —

For dawns brilliance is a mere moment;

But, our captain He keeps us,

In the gold-touched cloud atmosphere or watery deep;

In faithful hearts and prayer we discover profound relief.

Three Line Tales: Fiction — Without You #amwritingfiction

anks to Sonya from Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

Credit: Naitian (Tony) Wong via Unsplash.

Garret was unsure and perplexed wondering where he should drive the motor home to next; it had been his and his late wife’s dream to travel everywhere.The trouble was Minnie was gone, her cancer abrupt and hopeless; still, she passed one morning serenely. It was Garret’s legacy to continue their retirement trip: “Where to Minnie, where to — it’s not the same without you.”

Poem: Free Verse — “Learning and Dreams” #amwritingpoetry

Sometimes certain words fade to silence,

It’s a battle to complete each task, each day.

There are mornings I almost weep, but I grapple against each storm;

Somedays mean from morn to night exhaustion quivers,

My legs shake and I’m too tired to run –too agitated to sit;

Though you might think I’ve done so little.

And, thoughts and plans leave me pondering all night;

Tossing and turning in the blankets grasp.

But other days I rise, and I’m alive with sunshine;

The learning process of endurance is half the battle.

I try to succeed, hope most days they’re moments that to other people matter.

I’m prepared for hard work, as long as my body’s alert

And if I’m here now in the present; I must be in the right place for now —

For however long I am.

Here to learn, blossom, grunt, and groan against all challenges.

Although, certain days my eyes are sand-weighted,

Aching for tomorrow’s responsibility, a notion of grande design;

I’m surviving today, that’s something.

Existing in an extended vignette, eyes not glazing left alone.

And somehow unseen footpaths meander to freedom, faith for tomorrow:

Then, he grabbed my shaking hands anyways,

Before I tumbled, and off the ledge we rode.

Tucked in goose feathers, silken fibres —

Into the midnight sky we flew.

To chase the dreams of starlight’s cosmic kiss;

Then wake flourishing on a comets tail.

Poem: Free Verse – “Melinda’s Battle.” #amwritingpoetry

Written awhile back and not entirely sure what I meant, but have edited and see what you think?

Credit: Xuan Nyguyen via Unsplash.

Peering above the clouds,

Her mane in chopped disarray;

Melinda takes a vow, as her eyes blink glassy grey.

The eagles circle round,

There caws thrill in the dawn.

And all across the ground,

Her body is adorned, trails Velveteen-rouge satin.

While the faeries sparkle, and their bright visions abound.

Melinda marches towards the sun scorching,

A peasant swathed in morning dew.

Satin trickling behind her feet, she’s drawn —

Down the steps wearing broken-in boots;

Her path unending in the circle of lust.

She didn’t choose a tyrants will,

She wasn’t given hers; and her terrifying experiences mean, Melinda will forever distrust.

Still, she keeps marching on,

A soldier in sequinned glory.

A dagger hid in her starched gown;

Her long sable locks adorned with roses.

And she can’t trust herself, her mind is a concrete cage;

She’s twisted, rusted —her silk gown small protection from menacing beasts;

A prowling force she battles with and makes livid.

But, Melinda never quits, she chooses not to give-in.

The beast lets up, but she knows she can’t an eternity win;

While her skin is marbled beauty, she’s haunted by grim creatures;

Everyday is a battle and she’s quaking,

Such carnage, a war not her choice.

There’s slaughter in her soul unmanaged, leaving her visage ruined;

Ruined as rouge lipstick dripping as blood,

Melinda nearly chokes slashed by the monster beside and the monster inside her.

Both destroy her, both leave her exhausted;

Her glassy grey eyes drop, and only tears froth.

Her pain too vivid, unconcealed, a dagger in her skirt no protection.

She’s worked years to climb a valley;

Then, life tossed her careening down a gorge.

Now, her words only linger in sadness;

She yearns to curse, throw glass —

She can’t think, she’s lost and never safe.

She’s become mere prey —fighting tears, fears, demons always.

Never mind tyrants who snuff out bursts of salvation’s light;

She’s caught in a nightmare, her mind astray;

A moment she fears will lock hopes door,

Then forever, melt the key, and she’ll never escape the circle;

But she might, for some wars are only figurative,

And she’s made of more steel than a carnivores tyrant and menacing literature.

Three Line Tales: Poem — Lunes “After the Storm” #amwritingpoetry

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

Credit: Sarah Riano via Unsplash

Down the walkway lies oblivion,

Rainbow buoyant bright;

Follow the streetlights, puddles splashed.

*****

Ocean rose, fell with tides,

Tides’ hush lulls,

All eyes on ethereal sky.

*****

Something calming walking after the —

Callous livid storm;

Peace pervades, now we promenade.

Three Line Tales: Fiction — You Can’t Buy It #amwritingfiction

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

A monster of a turquoise staircase rises before me and my lungs burn until the staircase ends; a mellow light appears from a doorway at the top. An inexplicable serenity pervades my body overtaking all worry until I discover a mysterious thousand dollar bill in my pocket; a malicious wind rises as I clench it. Window shutters slap and glass cracks around me as a lone man approaches and nods his head at my pocket, his voice unearthly: “You can’t buy the stairway to Heaven, you know?”

Poem: Free Verse – “Stone White Witch” #amwritingpoetry

It’s the brokenness you cannot see,

The trail of hearts behind me.

Or, perhaps it’s fairer to say, a trail of lust turned cold;

It burns bright gold, a beach and a boat, the sun on my skin, Jackie-O frames.

There’s laughter, conversations, playful negotiations made.

Walls tumble, a connection is raised, a pale thread thin; Hope for the more.

Yet, there is no skin, no breath on lips, no warmth;

I can’t feel you, it’s imagination — your absence, your glowing presence snuffed.

And, I’m not one to lead on; I can’t give what you want —

For you can never hold my hand, and love me ‘here.’

Nor take all your obligations; bear my burdens with me — I’ll bear yours.

I wanted to converge, but you’ve needs, they crush me — until the real me erodes;

I’m no longer your woman, I’m a picture, an image — crushed until she bleeds.

A splattered painting, impressionism ruined; canvas punched in.

Throw scarlet paint over me, my details, my person — she aches;

A meaningless chit, sinful — not whole, but she’s learned she needs to say when;

Her body bends, but you’re not here; we’re both lost.

You forgot about me, while I was trying to satisfy our yearning.

Brokenness and trust, I gave you half my secrets;

There’s too many miles to share the rest;

You so so real, but I’d rather live in harsh reality, than be a siren of our misery.

And in the end I know, you’ll prosper; you’ll not miss me long — though you said so.

I’m still caught in these silken webs, little threads, they never form a tapestry;

They only snap until there’s nothing; I’m stone and I can’t return to life.

And worst of all you’re decent, you could’ve been just right;

But it’s the end and I’m my own white-witch;

Stone is our relationship.

Poem: Italian Sonnet – “For a Bed” #amwritingpoetry

Written the first night sleeping in my own bed after a month and a half away.

Credit: Kinga Cichewicz via Unsplash.

Odd ditty penned, but it’s a dire matter;

Time since I rested in powder-puff hug.

Since I eased in downy-feathers snug.

It’s softness no hospice mattress combats.

Nor it’s cotton-candy duvet flatters.

Pillows topple, soft petal-cotton sheets —

Breath; my body sighs where it’s velvet, skin meets.

Near two-months since I lay swathed in satin.

So grateful was I for home to heal, still —

Wasn’t my bed, blankets twisting while dreams fill.

Oh, how I missed my marshmallow mattress —

But, I ache — some know not sleeps hiding place.

In Cloud-bed find I deepest-drowsy sleep,

Still, the darkness lingers in my mind creeps.

A New Day: Poem – Lunes “Embers of Light Repair” #amwritingpoetry

*****

There’s hope, vivacity hiding in —

Each subtle pain;

Hope despite despairing pain cruel.

*****

Though, cringing — I smile anyways;

Never knowing tomorrow’s —

Treasures; nor its growing pains.

*****

It doesn’t matter; I’m well.

Whatever comes, I —

Accept; not alone, not afraid.

*****

Life might bleed futilely; eyes —

Tear oceans: back —

Bent; yet, pain tenaciously rebuilds.

*****

Though tomorrow chills my bones,

I’ve a responsibility;

I must reconstruct my life.

*****

I must utilize my skills, fight —

Despite dark disrepair;

I’ve burning light, only it repairs.

*****

I’ve a melodic tune within —

Chasing agony away;

I awake, absorb mellow effervescence .

*****

Though muscles creak; fatigue freezing,

Killing the fight;

Embers of hope burn forevermore.

*****

Proof for Faith, There Isn’t Any

Please read this wonderfully thought provoking piece:

clcouch123

Proof for Faith, There Isn’t Any

(then Quo vadis?)

Proof

You want proof

There isn’t any

Maybe in the nautilus

Contemplative-minded people

Seem to like the spiral

Turning and arching toward

Infinity

Lately, I’ve been looking at

Where the spiral’s going

When the photograph is stairs and not

A shell

Often, there’s a black space on

The image

Mystery, an unknown place of

Arrival, I imagine

Sometimes, the square is light

But also undefined

Then there are creative renderings

Steps made of windows,

Graphically

Sometimes of stained glass

Where are we going? all the frames

Of any kind seem

To say

Quo vadis?

I suppose there is in indication

Typically

We are traveling up

Though shift a little, maybe

Going down

Perhaps there is no depth or height

And we are moving in

Into something

On to something

Maybe something good

We don’t know

The final patch is indeterminate

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