Music Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Where My Demons Hide” #poetry #dVerse #musicchallenge

For this prompt I’m including MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Friday Music Challenge song “Demons”by Imagine Dragons. Also, I’m writing for Mish’s Poet’s pub #dVerse writing a poem from a musical muse, lines from “Demons” for this piece. 

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Carter Gomez Angel via UnSplash

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Imagine Dragons – “Demons”

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“When you feel my heat/ Look into my eyes / It’s where my demons hide / It’s where my demons hide. / Don’t get too close / It’s dark inside. / It’s where my demons hide / It’s where my demons hide.” – Imagine Dragons 🐉 

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Where my demons hide, 

Where my demons hide. 

Reflected in orbs of fire, 

I can’t escape their growl. 

You’ll have to lead my steps, 

Don’t mean to singe your brows. 

My Hellbound heat radiates,  

Demon-man on prowl. 

No escaping, you’ve seen them, 

Here with us, demons all to foul. 

Temperamental, disreputable, 

Repellent, sharp teeth and jowls. 

How do I escape this now? 

Set me free of this prison’s chilling howl, 

Screams in pitch black, 

I’m absorbed by demon’s marrow, 

They’re liars deep inside my eyes.

No more sweet kisses now, 

They’ll eat you alive if you stay. 

My inner demons restless still prowl, 

Their lizard-like skin grates; 

Eyes as red pits burn unsound. 

Horrors of the dim; you’re too close, 

When such desire through me pounds. 

Sins of the flesh, love denied, 

Demons reside, dank cavarns found. 

Don’t get to close, 

Darkness is eternal, unprofound.

Here my demons settle, 

They screech, drink rounds —

Of fireball liquor, Whiskey hot heat. 

So I’ll let you easily down,

Don’t want to hide the truth, 

It’s up to you now. 

We try to breed love sweet, 

But miserly greed endowed, 

My last gift, cinders of the mess we’ve made. 

Didn’t know my fate was found, 

Demons with pandamonious desires. 

Masked beneath brimstone.

Don’t look into my eyes, 

They’re black as tar, don’t get close; 

Red fire ignites, tried to save —

Your light, but in fire it drowned.

Flames so high I dreamed, 

Life would be luminously profound. 

Such a bleak soul you’ve left, 

I’ll never forget, I’m beaten down. 

Couldn’t even save your light 

You peered into my eyes — drowned.

Unless you show me how, 

I can’t escape this now. 

Where my demons hide, 

Where my demons hide. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesday: Her Perfect Vocation #100WordWednesday #amwriting #dystopia

Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday August 9, 2017.

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Credit: Photo by Jane, Twitter

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 Lacey shook out her golden hair. Deborah eyed her daughter,” We’re here Lacey, this is where you’ll find out your vocation.”

“But I don’t even know what I’ll wear tomorrow. I’m not even sixteen.”

“The judges decide. Since long ago, each consecutive group of them provides citizens with the right jobs.”

” I’ve many interests. Not one.”

“Life isn’t fair, Lacey.” 

Deborah smoothed her skirt down three times.”They don’t know your thoughts. But the rigorous testing you’ve done, your DNA, genetic lineage, your social interactions, and other scientific data guides the Judges.”

“But you said they don’t know my thoughts?” 

“They’re not going to ask for your opinion. They know.”

“That’s the problem, Mom. There’s more than ‘knowing.’ There’s that feeling that tells you your purpose deep down.”

“They Judges don’t consider feelings or emotions. They don’t see people beyond their job skills.” 

Deborah shushed Lacey. Her hands trembled. “Whatever they say, Lacey, that’s your vocation.”

“Outcasts don’t last long, your father’s one and that life’s harsh. They’ll watch out for that ‘rebellious spirit’ in you.”

“I can’t keep my true-self masked. I’ll be miserable.”

“No one’s happy here,” Deborah whispered. 

But Lacey didn’t hear her. Deborah watched her daughter ascend the ancient silver staircase and knew her daughter would be searching for her father soon. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Peddling Back to Life #amwriting #flashfiction

Thanks to the lovely Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 8th, 2017 Edition. 

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Credit: Dorothy

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Mike peddled with little effort yet his face was dripping sweat as a hot candle dripping wax. Each peddling motion on the tandem bike was agony.

“We have to stop, Tommy.”

“Nope, I promised you we’d get you fit.”

“What if I don’t want that? And why hills?”

“Hills are the best for doing intervals which burn fat better.”

“Who cares?”

Tommy frowned. “I care because I’m your brother.  I realize you’ve been depressed, that finding the right medication has caused you significant weight gain.”

“I also know antidepressants make you extra hungry and that eating makes you feel better since Beth’s death.”

Mike halted the tandem bicycle. “Don’t ever talk about her.”

“I will, someone needs to tell you the facts. The Doctor phoned you and I answered your phone, thinking it was important.”

“I was right. The Doctor’s concerned your blood pressure has skyrocketed. He says you’re quite obese and that if you don’t eat well and exercise you’ll get diabetes.”

Mike growled, turning to glare at Tommy behind him. 

Tommy shoved him. “The Doctor told me so I could help you. Beth chose death so your healthy daughter could live. Tira is two and being raised by her grandparents. That isn’t right.”

“I’m in no shape to raise, Tira.”

“That’s sad. Remember your therapist said, in our family session, that most of your problems are set behaviors, that can be altered? Depression isn’t to blame for everything.”

Mike shook his head, disagreeing. 

“I’ll help you, Mike. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Todsy’s day one, right?”

Tommy grinned, “Yep, and stop whining. I’m doing most of the peddling, not you.”

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Notable Quotes: August 2017 Part One #amwriting #quotes

Good Morning! Some August quotes. Sorry if some of them are repeats. I’m trying to clear my iPad and usually I delete the ones I use on here, but sometimes I forget. Nevertheless, great quotes anyways! Enjoy! 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Rictameter – “Streets A New” #amwritimg #poetry #flashfiction

Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: J. Hardy Carroll

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Empty, 

Thoughts with empty —

Dreams; never meant to inflict,

Such pain, no anxiety, hurt —

done unintentionally —

Not considering, 

Empty. 

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Bare streets, 

Abandonment, 

No one comes here, danger —

Lurks in sun’s zenith and night’s chill.

Lost lonely souls wander, 

Hopeless; shifty —

Bare streets. 

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Broken, 

Boulevard with —

Dreams in smithereens; pieces —

Of what could’ve been, deserted. 

Littered streets, none tread 

Improvements left, 

Broken.

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Why fix? 

Somewhere no one —

Ventures? Bring beauty to  —

Dank tenements abandoned? 

Some people still live here, 

Shuffling through, 

Why Fix? 

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Broken, 

I can’t hull stones, 

Nor restore past glories, 

I’m no architect with dreams of —

Organic design where the 

Forgotten dwell, blurry —

Eyed and hopeless, 

Broken. 

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Hope means, 

Skilled developer, 

Notes potential in ruins, 

Will see masked brilliance beneath the —

Treachery; Boulevard —
Where someone sees, 

Hope is. 

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Anew, 

I can’t remould, 

Your splintered heart, pristine, 

I can stitch the pieces together, 

So in time, stitches fade,  

Heart heals almost, 

Anew, 

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©Mamdibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Collage Prompt: Cascading Etherees – “The Light Keeps Burning” #amwriting #poetry #stories

Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Collage Prompt.  

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Credit: Window- Andrey Bobir: Fruit Center: Kevin Sloan: Woman- Christian Schloe

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I’m a story, my life overarching,

Tale that tells of my unique journey. 

Places I’ve travelled, things I’ve seen,

Until the day comes and these —

Memories imprint, 

Silt, dust, and smoke. 

Characters lost, 

Not even, 

To be, 

Known. 

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Gone,

Can’t be! 

Actions done, 

Wild nights, regret;

My authentic talents,

And a muse who knows, 

Histories repeated —

Memories of pen and ink. 

Thoughts hidden, lock and key, they close. 

Masking the truth of such characters, 

Building worlds through words, disconnected. 

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Sly as a fox, I’ve learned fruitful ways. 

These days go by, can’t halt the clock’s tick,

Don’t forget time’s ever so short. 

Juices dribbling down small chins,

Organic pears sweet with —

Raspberries too. 

Spiritually, 
Ripe fruit ate, 

Becomes soul —

Food that —

Heals. 

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Just, 

As Tales, 

Brilliant and — 

Warm soothe the heart, 

But reality —

Doldrums work to dull minds. 

An anasethic addictive, 

Sickness in body, soul, and heart. 

Too much berries here for birds who —

Wobble discordently drunk, stagnant. 

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Become a person who finds windows when, 

All doors are shut, locked up tightly. 

Find your dreams, your goals define them, 

Persevere, strive in —

Life as it happens; too —

Fast for my liking! 

Absorb moments,

Choose to, 

Live. 

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No,

Matter,

That we will, 

Be forgotten,

As stories or part,

Of nastolgies devised.  

Obscurity as time —

Moves as the rabbit with his —

Pocket watch; we’re perpetually late; 

Wherever we end; hope it’s paradise.

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One where we dwell on stories of truth, 

Body’s age, decay; but our gifts stay. 

Forever they are our tasks.

Someday we each face ends.

As Dylan desperate wrote, 

Of the light’s dying, 

Don’t fear for it; light’s

Forever, 

Guiding 

Home.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Saturday Mix: Poem – Quadrille – ” Two Days in a Life” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix

Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s SaturdayMix Prompt on writing about ‘Routine.”

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Credit: Clark Young via UnSplash

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Powerful nightmares, 

1:00 p.m., awake. 

Writing begins. 

Interior Design, 

Eyelash tips. 

Straightener Reviews;

Botox, CoolSculpting, 

Short stories. 

Increase ‘Showing,’

Less ‘Telling.’

Vivid imagery, 

No dialogue tags. 

Strong verbs, 

Few adverbs.

Fracturing story;

Perplexing process. 

Convince readers,

Believe fiction.

Specifics, 

Without ambiguity.

1:00 a.m.,

Energy annihilated. 

Sleep awakes, 

Lethargy fading. 

Yoga poses, 

Meander outside, 

Conversing, 

Real world life. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Poem- Lai (one verse of) “Healing” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales #dVerse

Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also tying it with Grace from #dVerse Poet’s Pub open link prompt. Love her poem, Lake Louise is in my home province. ❤️

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Credit: Annie Theby via UnSplash

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Simple words, azure —

Blue of bug mobile, 

Calling.

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Blissful summer time —

Memories, shadowed; 

Fading. 

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The sun dips, evenings —

Starlight, medicine —

Heals all. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesday: “Heart Break” #amwriting #flashfiction

Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday! 

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Credit: Jennifer Pallian

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Everything had to be perfect. Kayla didn’t want this to be a one time affair. It was 1:00 p.m., and Tye had awoken hearing noises in Kayla’s kitchen. 

He lumbered in, taking a seat at the island where Kayla had prepared a tray with ‘hair of the dog.’

“Morning Tye, you probably have a killer hang over at your age,” Kayla teased.

Tye drank both drinks from the tray. “Feeling much better now. Where’s your brother? Did he crash here too?”

“We, no Tye, it was just us. Christian stayed at Mimi’s last night.”

“He’s a lucky guy. Mimi’s a fine woman.”

Kayla frowned, “What about last night? Aren’t you a ‘lucky guy’ too, Tye?”

“What about it?”

“Does it mean anything to you? You told me you loved me.”

Tye was silent, “From the moment I saw you in that short black dress . . . I don’t remember much. I drank a lot. It can’t mean anything, Kayla, even if I’ve always had a thing for you. You’re Christian’s sister, he’d kill me.”

“Not if you actually loved me. If you felt the way I feel about you.”

“Doesn’t matter –”

“It does matter because I’m twenty eight-years old, a grown woman. If last night meant nothing, just say it. Because I’m damn sure you’re lying when you say you don’t remember.”

Tye rubbed his face his eyes dazed. He lumbered back to the bedroom and began dressing.

He wouldn’t look at her and Kayla confronted him, catching him off guard. She pushed him hard and kept pushing, attempting to get a reaction from Tye when he grabbed both her hands holding her still. 

“I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. You may have not loved me then, but I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since I turned twenty-five. You like me a lot and you know it,” Kayla cried. 

She struggled, but Kye wouldn’t let go of her hands. He pressed his lips to hers, brushing them back and forth before pulling back. “This can’t happen again, Kayla. You know that, I’m engaged.” 

” Lisa doesn’t love you. You don’t owe that harpy anything.”

“I do owe it to her, we’ve been together five years.”

Tyler brushed his thumb against her lips and let go of Kayla. He left her bedroom to put on his dress shoes at the front door. “I wish I could be with you. But Lisa’s pregnant. If I don’t marry her she’ll never let me see my daughter, ever.” 

Kayla blanched. She tried not to burst into a crying jag as she held her throat feeling her breath constrict. She gazed at Tye, “Please tell me I wasn’t just some girl you slept with.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk, Kayla. I lied. Last night meant the world, but that’s why we have to both forget it.”

The door shutting echoed long after Tye left. Tears dripped down her cheeks as Kayla sat on the floor, a ferocious pain eating her alive inside as she wept. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Vintage verse – A Bird came down the Walk by Emily Dickinson

Autumn Sky Poetry sharing my Monat fav Poem “A Bird Came down the Walk” by Emily Dickinson!

Autumn Sky Poetry Daily

A Bird came down the Walk

A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an Angleworm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass—
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all around—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought—
He stirred his Velvet Head

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home—

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon
Leap, plashless as they swim.

by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim

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