Poem: Shadorma – “Woman War Not Alone” #amwriting #poetry #women


http://www.fatiguestofabulous.com
—– 
Such times as,

The ones she lived through.

She conformed, 

Wanted More.

Saw how hurt perpetuates;

Never healing whole.

—-

Self-harm, self-

Hate common;  inside –

She is hurting, 

Inner pain.

Gossip and judgement used.

She never thought to —

—–

End the pain

Close hateful doors tight.

Lock malice, 

Outside her.

An unforgiving night, reminds —

Her, fight gently.

—–

Keep working; 
Her inner battle. 
It’s as old,

As the earth.

Woman who fight for, 

Equality.

—–

A dream, 

She thinks having both,

Pax, and rest.

She is wise,

For seeing tomorrow’s pain;

Unburdens those lame.

——-

Light in the,

Darkness, shines, provides —

Glimmer of,

Hope, assured —

Fighting, with her words and sword;

Hoping for happiness.

——

Good prevails.

Light’s glow permanent.

Good’s older.

She drinks wine;

Thinking of mornings, sunrise —

Reminds her she’s loved.

—–

Leaves on tree,

Dusting her path yet,

Leaves mark the —

Passing of,

Seasons; on each she shines light,

Earth keeps turning while —

—–

She worries,

Weeping in bad times,

She doesn’t

Forget what,

Was fought for at heavy cost,

She lives; others fought —

——

For her now.

Because in their time,

They had few —

Rights at all.

Doing wife’s duty despite,

Desire for freedom — rights.

——

She looks for,

Light in the tunnel,

At the end–

Of the war.

She fights not alone; she holds —

Strength in her faith, bold.

——

For her God,

Never forgets her, 

Woman so —

Precious; God–

Created Man and her, equals —

Partners; she’s not less.

——-

Complement,

She smiles because she —

Knows inner —

Completeness.

Remembers God’s son best knows,

Inequality.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Poem: Free Verse – “The Writings On The Wall Reveal You” #amwriting #poetry #relationships 


http://www.badjocks.com

———–

Am I real?

When you look at me,

Do you see me for me?

Do you care what you see?

I’ve only questions,

While you play your cards close.

I’m not going to cheat,

Peer at your hand because —

I’m afraid what I’ll see.

Such truths, I don’t want to gaze upon —

Unfaithfulness,

Only physicality, sexuality;

No emotion or affection,

No conversation in person,

No Voice stroking voice.

—–

Hands speak with our words,

Eyes glint and reveal,

Secrets you’d rather hide,

With sunglasses.

Staring at your hand,

Trying to beat my cards.

Poker face silent, emotionless;

All bets are off.

Time to show me your cards,

What the river dealt you —

Matters not; but for now,

Play how you like.

Fold if you’re scared,

Of falling into deep,

Of feeling emotion.

Your heart picking-up,

Thumping a beat.

——

But, perhaps, I’m a woman for fodder,

For a lonely night at home.

Perhaps, I’m not pretty enough,

Not thin enough for you.

Maybe, you know I’ll ask questions?

Questions you have trouble answering.

Maybe, you know —

I’ll turn the wanderer in your soul home,

And welcome you in my arms.

Maybe you’re not ready,

Perhaps, your only an ass.

A nice way of saying,

Other words I want to shout.

Perhaps, I’m only a date —

And one night.

Is this how you treat women?

I’m too strong for your tricks.

——-

You may forget my face,

My name, my body.

You may let me do the walk of shame,

Thinking I’m fooled by you,

The man I liked all along;

You may believe —

Finally, you wore me down.

And now I’m flattened,

Nothing left to sculpt,

Nothing left to shatter.

Smithereens, glass embedded.

You may have led me astray,

Made me consider:

I no longer think,

Some guys are good,

And some guys do care.

——

But when I chose you,

Maybe I didn’t realize,

I was choosing all wrong.

Maybe, I should’ve gazed above me —

Seen the ‘writings on the wall.’

Seen the woman in her glory,

Waiting for her own life,

On wings to rise and fly;

From your lies and tricks;

You didn’t shatter me,

I saw all the writings,

Every word on that damn wall,

I know all your horrific secrets;

And I read them all.

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “The Darkest Faeries” #amwriting #poetry #faeries


http://www.villians.wikia.com

——–

The wings of a faerie, a delicate lace.

Transparent and glowing with,

Each faeries myriad colour choice.

You can see their wings flash,

When the sun begins to set;

When echoes of the rainbow,

Give one the illusion of colours bold.

But it’s the faeries who are —

As beautiful as they’re deadly,

Luring children to their faerie lands.

Turning your infants to faeries,

To live many ages;

To play the wicked games faeries play.

—-

They’ve no offspring so they steal,

A babe fed; left in their crib.

And you a mother are distraught,

Be not surprised; it’s what faeries do.

You’ve heard the tales and watched,

As your mother, and her mother before her.

Still you cry and sob;

Picking-up your biggest kitchen knife.

Faeries are terrible beings,

We read false truth about,

They don’t actually want to help.

They’re evil when alive too long.

——-

Faeries so tiny,

Keep their race alive.

Promptly, wave their hands;

The wisps of their garments,

Sleeves like streamers trailing long.

Chanting magic ancestors taught,

They curse your darlings with bright wings.

And turn you and you husband away,

Searching for,

Your their stolen little ones.

Though you, broken-hearted mother,

You keep up the fight.

You want your children to grow,

Not become an evil faerie and —

Live a Millennium to burn.

——-

Faeries lead astray those,

Who try to capture them.

You who yearn for your babes,

To get your children home.

As faeries, your darlings grow in the blink of an eye;

Become adult faeries in days,

Not knowing they were humans young,

Merely days ago.

——

Mother’s sorely missing kids,

Are wandering the forest for —

Where ancient faeries hide.

Faeries lie to stolen babes,

Say they were unwanted,

So the faeries gave them home.

And rainbow wings to one day,

Catch the eye of yet more babes.

Lost before a parent sees,

A child stolen gone.

——

Faeries change your young,

Dawning them with gossamer wings,

Knowledge of mischief and celebration.

A faeries life is of none-stop festivity,

With little meaning;

And no knowledge do faeries posses,

But the knowledge to take;

Those you hold so dear–

It’s why you burn their wings,

In the candle lit at night;

So, they will never curse your home,

And bring you a mother’s tears,

——

Why you learned to take your knife,

And kill the old faeries weird,

To end their malicious games.

Take back your children,

Undo the magic faeries formed.

You’ll burn and stab their wings all night,

Until your children,

And your neighbour’s young,

Are finally, safe at home.

So the faeries fade away.

Die out with no offspring,

Because of you;

Your child lives.

And never will you cry again,

From a fairy interfering.

You, most feisty mother,

For your perseverance, you have won.

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Life of A Native-American Tribe’s Woman


Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3 Line Tales:


tipi's indians
Maher El Aridi

1.The stars are dazzlingly brilliant in the inky-dark sky; through the small circle of space in the top of my families tipi, I feel the warm summer air breathing down on me; tomorrow is another day of rigorous work for the women of our tribe, we tan animal hides, gather fruit and nuts, and smoke our meat into pemmican.


2. The men will be off hunting in the morning; chasing the deer, buffalo, rabbits, foxes, and any animal which will provide us food presently, and in the winter months; the braves bring the animals to the woman and we skin the animal’s of their fur; the men will sell some of our beautiful soft fur to white-man traders; some of the furs we’ll keep for ourselves for in winter, so we won’t freeze to death;


3.When our braves hunt, our tribe prays for the animal spirits and we ask mother-earth to be kind to us and take the animal spirits; though we eek our living from nature, we always give her thanks; sunlight filters through the hole in the tipi and my mother starts a fire;  I aid my mother with the morning meal sighing as smoke obscures the hole in the tipi; there are days I feel, life is only a trap and I will never see the blue-sky.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

🎶🎈🍹🎶Blog Party 🎶💃🍸Meet & Greet 🎶🎊


Here’s another blogger parry! Visit Etta, share your link,share a friends link, and enjoy!

Simply Etta

pink-lemons-party-table-1-2

Goodbye, July……..HELLO August!   Welcome to the  Party,  plenty of Music, Food, and drinks for everyone, just scroll to the bottom of the page-Party Favors at the top 😉   While I appreciate the ‘Likes,’  please don’t forget to leave your link to let everyone know where to find you.

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It’s Party Time. Come Right In 💃💕🎶🌭🍹🍻🍝🍰🍦🍿📻


Please Join Me at JAcqueline of A Cooking Pot And Twisted Tales, blogger party. Have some food and drinks, post your link, reblog about the party, and meet new Blogger’s!

a cooking pot and twisted tales

It’s almost unbelievable how fast time seems to fly by these days. Is it just me? Another month end blog party already.

I would like to thank my new blog friends and welcome them to our warm gathering.

You are most welcome do make yourself comfortable and other up something tall and cool to drink 🙂

Refreshments and favours are nicely arranged down the page. Feel free to indulge, these are zero calories 😉

Just some little party rules:

  1. You must mix and mingle with others. Don’t be a wallflower. Go say hello to someone and you can participate in the Tag a poem, a thought or quote below.
  2. Let us know where you are blogging from.
  3.  Please leave your blog link or post link in the comment box below along with introductions.
  4. It’s one link per comment, but come back as often as you’d like, that way it’s easier to…

View original post 255 more words

Blogger’s Pit Stop #34 | Mostly Blogging


Visit the Blogger’s Pit Stop and Leave Your Link for the Weekend! Check-out some other blogs while you are here! Thanks.

 

Friday, 29th July 2016 Blogger’s Pit Stop #34 – Welcome Blogger’s Pit Stop is open from 9 pm ET(US Thur) 11 am(AUS Friday) and Closes 3 am Monday ET(US) 5 pm(AUS) Get ready for the ///Competition\\\ next week 1st Prize – Four (4) Bloggers will have their blog featured – one on each of the […]

Source: Blogger’s Pit Stop #34 | Mostly Blogging

Poem: Shadorma – “Disasters and gods” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #tadhana 



——–

http://www.youtube.com

———-

Beyond your, 

Control there exists, 

Such forces in–

The gods of, 

Weather and sky, who —

With pleasure torment.

——-

Killing their, 

Children, people of —

Earth they harm.

Tornadoes, 

In dry places flatten all, 

Homes; many left for dead.

——

Your typhoons, 

Come raging with wind, 

Water and, 

Take away, 

Our loved ones, disappearing  gone.

Our pets have no chance.

——-

When you gods, 

In your games, take life, 

I wonder, 

Where is your, 

Mercy and kindness; your grace? 

Murdering, no thought.

——

I wonder, 

Should I pray, not to —

You beings, 

But to gods, 

Who give a damn about life, 

Answer pleading prayers.

—–

Perhaps, an —

Intelligent designer, 

Can say to, 

Me in words, 

Why my wife he brought back to his —

Heavenly home first.

——

Why my kids, 

Have disappeared and,

I want to —

Only be–

With them all; not alone on earth.

Explain to me why you —

—–

Take in earth –

Quakes, tremors causing, 

Giant waves to–

Crush any in, 

Its powerfully hungry path.

Why such waves, hate me.

——

Why do the, 

Volcanoes in places, 

Explode and —

Take others, 

Around the world not caring, 

Indiscriminately.

——

With no thought, 

Disasters around —

Us destroy.

And they kill, 

Each year taking more and more.

Tears return again.

——-

Creator, 

New God I search for, 

Will you give, 

Me peace and —

Reassurance I will see my, 

Loved ones soon? I pray —

—–

They’re not lost–

Forever; there’s small, 

Hope in my, 

Voice to the, 

God, I now beg for to bring me–

Relief; answer prayers. 

——

Hey! This is the last post for #wordhighjuly and the Filipino word prompts. Thanks to Rosema and Maria for hosting! 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Lunes – “Keep Your Hands To Yourself” #amwriting #wordhighjuly #poetry #gigil



——-

http://www.babyshrink.com

——–

Aunty no, leave my chubby —

Cheeks alone don’t, 

Pinch them; I hate it! 

——

But I’m six- years-old, 

You don’t listen, 

My words have no value.

——

I’m but a child to you, 

One who should, 

Be seen, but not heard.

——

Mom says it’s your generation, 

But you make, 

Me feel as if I —

——–

Cannot breathe when you squeeze, 

Me in your, 

Flabby old arms and get —

——–

Lipstick all over my face, 

I’m a boy, 

Aunt Laurel; I don’t need —

——-

Your horrible lipstick stains on —

My face because, 

My friends tease me later.

——-

But mostly I wish you’d,

Stop pinching my, 

Cheeks; it hurts and I —

——–

Hate you, cigarette scented woman.

You tortured my —

Cousins; now you torture me.

——-

No one ever taught you, 

Keep your hands —

To yourself; Next time I’ll —

——–

Throw off your wrinkled hands, 

And show you, 

This little boy; he bites.

———

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge Prompt: Dream World #flashfiction #amwriting #photochallenge


Thank you to MindLoveMiseryMenageria for the picture prompt:

——-

Unknown

——–

Marvin couldn’t believe this place he’d woken up in. He was eight-years-old in this world, but he wore a space suit. Not the fake dress-up clothes space suit, but an authentic one as the astronauts who flew to the space station wore. 

He was on a planet which wasn’t earth. It was night and the blue-grey sky was alight with stars which lit Martin’s path on dark-green grass like terrafirma. 

Marvin wanted to feel the grass but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to breathe on this planet.

 The most fascinating feature of this environment was that the sea was one with the sky. Marvin wasn’t sure how this was possible, but earth-like sea creatures floated above him. He laughed as a blue whale swam past, stars glittering around the creature.

Marvin was amused to see starfish stuck in the sky, as if they were actual stars. Marvin reached for a starfish and the world he was in dissolved around him. 

When he awoke, Marvin was thirty-eight-years-old and lying in a hospital bed. His wife Lorna sat by his bed, grasping his hand: 

“Marvin you’re back. It’s been a scary forty-eight hours.”He couldn’t speak, it hurt to move. 

In truth, Marvin was disappointed to see Lorna, to be alive. What kind of accident was he in which he was hurt so awfully?  He was painfully drowsy and Martin allowed his mind to slip back into his dream world. 

He was a boy once again and in his astronaut suited hand, he was holding a starfish glowing bright orange and wriggling. He felt such hope and peace in this dream world.

Marvin did not struggle with his drowsiness, to stay in the real world, where Lorna and severe pain waited. 

As he drifted off to explore his dreamscape, he heard the beeps of his heart rate go flat.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.