Game of Dark


My poem “Game of Dark” on Look Around. Thanks!

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Guest Post

by Amanda Eifert

Alouette

In shadows we dwell,

Moonlit private hell.

We disappear into edges,

Into the places dark,

Our lives are no lark.

We’re left standing, our bets hedged.

*****

The darkness is cold,

We draw warmth, we fold.

Ourselves neatly into corners,

Existing in pitch black,

Our dimness won’t crack.

Light cannot break in, you’re warned.

**** 

mopana-game-of-dark Credit: Fan Pop – Wall Paper

****

Our hearts are blackest,

Survival is our knack.

Glass city, shimmers, breaks apart,

We’re a stronger ilk,

Sliding through night, silk.

As the world sets afire, hearts.

*****

Right and wrong confused,

Caught in self-abuse.

Night beckons us to creep, to find,

Paths leading out as,

It all goes up, has —

Been singed, burned, no mere kindness.

*****

We survive the dark,

We survive the mark.

When it all goes up in flames,

We’re last to remain,

We’re last…

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Mother, I am depressed-


How we should not respond to depression, by the talented Ameena!

Randoms by a Random

image.pngI told my mother I was depressed,
And she said- baby, it’s just the blues,
Just like every song has an ending,
This one would waltz right through.
It’s been three years- I’m still “blue”

I told my father I was depressed,
And watched the tears stream down his cheeks,
With a heart heavy with guilt, I said-
Daddy, I will make it through.
I was depressed, yet the one to show strength.

I told my friends I was depressed,
They said- girl! You just need a man;
How could I handle another human soul,
When I could barely deal with mine.
I was depressed, not in need of a man.

I told my brother I was depressed,
He asked if I was bleeding then?
He’s heard girls can go a tad bit off,
When their time of the month appeared.
I said- I’m not bleeding… He didn’t hear.

Dear…

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Poem – Quaterns – “You Are Not The Girl” #poetry #amwriting


Credit: Marcus Baccatti – http://www.pinterest.com

*****

You are not the girl I always knew,

The person I was most like, you flew –

No longer my number two,

You’re the girl I defended too. 

—–

At every step abandoned I grew, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

You say one thing, you’re actions show,

You’re not a dependable though.

——

I disattach so you won’t hurt,

Make the marks of neglect so curt.

You are not the girl I always knew,

I relied too much on you it’s true.

——

You’re not such a good person, though —

I put you on a pedestal, so –

I took care of you, and trusted you,

You are not the girl I always knew.

******

You are not the girl I always knew,

Life it changed, with it we both grew –

Forced apart at first by you, then thrown,

Hurt so much, but I’ve always known –

—–

I can’t completely trust you through –

You are not the girl I always knew.

So involved in yourself, stopped thinking,

Stopped caring, it made my soul shrink

——

To think of where life takes us, knowing —

One day you’ll leave, forever going.

You’re not the girl I always knew,

You just look like her, there are few –

—–

Who could ever replace this girl,

But she is stuck in her own world.

Changes, hoping friendship renews, 

You are not the girl I always knew.

*****

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

The Complexities of Red #thoughts #amwriting #nonfiction


Credit: Giovanni Licea – YouTube

I considered the colour red. How I’m equally attracted and repelled by it. How I pass by a red v-neck sweater in the right shade, but mix my acrylic colours, blend them until my instincts say stop; stop sign red. No wait . . . a bright cool startling red appears on my canvas. I think this is passion and passion is the boldest red. I think of how I not only crave to paint in vivid red, but in many vivid colours and textures. How I trace the feeling of layered paints with my fingers, and hunger for other colours with my eyes – blue, green, and purple. Though I adore all these colours, my favourite paintings are all in red.
 As with my love for sexy heels, which I adore in red too. If red is passion, what more can I say about women and sensuality then red shoes. They’re expression and fierceness. Like Kelly Picklers song “Red High Heels” — “I’m about to show you just how missing me feels, in my red high heels . . .” Red for revenge, red for moving on, red for love. But I hate red for love, it’s memory is sickening. He looked good in that colour – almost the best. 

Credit: Sam Roloff – “The Big Red One”
Yet red is so many things more. It’s anger, hate, rage, hurt, demons dreaming — the beast inside who does not die. Red is sinful, delicious, and deadly. It’s sex and power; a primilness. It’s royalty and blood, red blood spilled for in the body it’s blue (hence bluebloods). I love how classic red is — nothing more classic then a cat eye and red Bridget Bardot lips. Nothing as classic as red Mustang. 

I don’t wear red, the colour outshines me and doesn’t fit with such pale skin and blond hair. Please no red dress – I’d rather blend in and be a classic black or navy dress cut perfectly. But I seek out bits of red and cling to them, not wanting red to blind me. Only some sparkle and razzle dazzle to hold in my hand. Red nail polish is beautiful, with a bit of bling  Red as some of the lights in Las Vegas and red fireworks; red stoplights. 

Red is perplexing because it’s complex, not simple at all. Red is nationalism and red is internationalism. It’s a proud Canadian colour and I don’t mind wearing it on our Nation’s Birthday. Or cheering on our Canadian hockey teams in the Olympics and junior hockey. 

As well, roses are so divine, so deadly pricking your finger. Red, passion and pain. Together swirled these colours of red, of love, and hate collide. There are many shades of grey, but even more shades of red. It’s more than a primary colour it calls as a siren, “Look see me.” No one hides in red. Red cars are often caught barely speeding and Red is a theme of many songs albums as in “Red” as T. swifts song and album and the Beatles album “Redone.” Red as “My love is like a red red rose.” Some choral song I cannot recall. 

Credit: Jeannette Mattson – “Red Rose” – Fine Art America

But I’m sitting here, music blaring trying to decide what to paint. I’ve that special shade of red and it’s mixing and melding with other colours. Shades and tones. I see, red on my canvas and it bleeds. Red blood, blood . . .life, the most prolific association. Red is blood. Blood is life. Red such as poppies, that we must always remember. Red for anger, red for hate, for war. Red to hurt, poor the droplets down a crystal glass. Red red wine. To drink away the blood and crippling thoughts. Red to forget. I like a Malbec with bite. A Zinfandel to make me chatty. A Merlot or Cav-Sav with some friends. Red sangria is delicious. Red strawberry margaritas because there’s real fire in tequila. Red is too many things, too symbolic, too self-contradictory. Red is life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem – Day 30 – Italian Sonnet – “Survivor” #amwriting #novembernotes #poetry #music 


The last day of this song prompt goes to “Turnimg Tables” by Adele.

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“Turning Tables” – Adele

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Turning the tables, you say you want more, 

I’m tired of your haze, your noxious mean gaze. 

So I’m turning the tables, with heart fire I raze

I won’t let you hurt me, make my soul pour, 

As a bag of sand, my soul won’t be torn

I won’t ask, “Desert me;” you deserted first, 

Won’t be, ‘neath your thumb, you can’t slake my thirst. 

Turning tables, your game playings no more. 

Braving fierce storms, I’ll escape forever, 

I’ll save myself, return to you never

I’m a survivor, I’ll build my new life, 

No turning tables on me, your best ex-wife. 

Get out of my home, you’re not mine at all, 

I’ll turn you outside, your morals appall. 

——


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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – English Sonnet – “Desolation Of The Flames” #poetry #flashfiction #amwriting #music


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

——

My teary eyes on the buildings below, 

Keeping careful watch o’r those homeless souls.

And since the sky is filled with fire and with smoke.

Praying, keep careful watch o’r forlorn folk.

If we die in fire, keep us together, 

Flames swirling higher, stairs filled with smoke, soon –

Rising farther into the night sky bright, 

Watch flames burn stronger, apartment alight. 

I see fire, fire in our whole home; Such fire

I can’t even breathe; I see fire, can’t respire.

There’s fire hollows my soul, blood curdling free, 

All smoke, no breeze, hope they’ll remember me. 

And if we should die tonight, we’ll both burn, 

Raise glasses of wine, ’till we don’t feel spurned. 

Calling Lord Father, prepare us as thee will, 

Watch the flames burn our home, neighbours heard scream. 

Confined in building blocks, enclosed, we’re remains

No fireman came, desolation it stays

——

Based off the lyrics by Ed Sheeran’s song “Fire” from The Hobbit movies. I played with the lyrics for this prompt. 

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“Fire” – Ed Sheeran 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.