#OctPoWriMo Day 30/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “ The Occult Shop” #poetry #photochallenge #dVerse 


For OctPoWriMo Day 30 the prompt theme is forbidden. As per usual I’m combining prompts with Bodhirose’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub open link night prompt and Scribblers Dip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Photo Prompt Challenge. 

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Credit: © Richard Davis Photography

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Barbara the Methodist walks by —

Aging, cluttered shop, holds head high.  

Her morals don’t permit feeling —

Curious she crosses busy street. 

Readings of palms of one’s future —

Advertised; she considers curtly. 

Blouse buttoned to her neck, arms folded, righteous ire,  

Prays curiousity won’t condemn her to the fire. 

——

Martin the mailman delivers —

Packages with symbols, riddles. 

Cashier is a friendly goth kid, 

Worn man watching frightens Martin.

Knows things he shouldn’t know all too well. 

Secrets hid deep, Martin’s own hell; 

Tortured with memories from a childhood of sad hurt, 

Old man offers help, revenge with a strange voodoo curse. 

—-

Danielle at the cash register, 

Peers around her, bad vibes incur. 

Items of witchcraft and pagan —

Jewelry of Celtic design. 

From eons ago polished bright,

Such treasures blend, occult sights. 

Shop’s wage pays well, most customers tip buying —

Items for potions and ailments — she’ll keep silence. 

—-

Ancient face with creased folds knows much —

Desires that he did not so he plucks, 

Courage from reserves to see Barb. 

Prudish and angry inferring, 

He has a choice in knowing fortunes. 

She sneers, he revealed misfortunes —

No matter her believed goodness her false piety, 

Barb sees herself righteously  forbidden

——

From the likes of magic healing, 

Holistic meds as blood congeals, 

In her heart which is dark damning;

Others beaming hope as Barb fans, 

Smoke of incense by the mailman.

Sniffs at Danielle’s tattoos all grand, 

Demands for him to read her hand, doesn’t know facts, 

Barbara the hateful sees not, he reads hearts and fates. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


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#NovemberNotes Day 1/ Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – English Sonnet – “Take Me Back” #poetry #amwriting


Good Morning. For this month I will be finishing off OctPoWrMo and taking part in November Notes held by Sarah Doughty of Heart String Eulogies. For November 1st, the song is “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. Also, I’m combining this prompt with Scribbler’s Dip Sunday Writing Prompt using the titles of 10 books (choosing 3) to describe. 


Raphael Fabricio Unsplash Night We Met
Credit: Raphael Fabricio via Unsplash

 “The Night We Met” – Lord Huron 

Book Titles:

Milk and Honey

The Sun and Her Flowers 

We’ll All Be Burnt in Our Beds Some Nights

My Husband’s Wife 

—-

Life in the land of Milk And Honey is sweet, 

Sweeter yet we’re the night’s we were complete. 

Lacing are hands and arms, dreams replete, 

So take me back to the night that we met. 

Sometimes I had most of you maybe not all, 

Sometimes bits and pieces holding their thrall. 

I wanted more of you — not your regret, 

So take me back to the night that we met. 

We’re [Both] Burnt in Our Beds Some Nights grieving,

Being your Husband’s Wife, you’ll never leave. 
But The Sun and Her Flowers call, daylight sets, 
So take me back to the night that we met. 

Once I had all of you, most nights confessed, 

So take me back to the night that we met. 

—-

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo Day 29/Photo Challenge: Poem – Villanelle – “Seperation Brings Us Closer” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


OctPoWriMo Day 29 has a theme of breathtaking using the Villanelle poetry form. As per usual I’m combining prompts. Today with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge Prompt Picture. 

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Credit: Gerald Larocque
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It’s hard to breath when we’re tied to each other’s dreams, 

When there’s no space to gasp for breath as we’re both trapped. 

We’re too connected, unable to unstitch our seams, 

When we desire time away, where we are unclasped. 

From the cloth chocking our lungs with unfiltered air, 

Set me free, set me free, when we’re closer unwrapped. 

Where you can be you and I can be me, that’s fair, 

We’re both better people with space in between us; 

Permitting us to flourish by ourselves and care —

About each other lovingly as space means more trust. 

Stories and adventures to tell each other too, 

To be close, skin to skin, soul to soul, not busted.

Together we are breathtaking functioning through —

The worst times and the best times, together we’re soothed. 

To each other and ourselves nurtured plants proving —

What it is to be two wholes complementing true, 

Each other as we strive in life, our strength doubled

Clean air to breath in the fresh awe inspiring night’s through —

All our joys and troubles, one life and two lives soothed

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Deserved.

#OctPoWriMo 28/Sunday Writing Prompts: Poem – Bop – “What Release’s Pain” #amwriting #poetry


For OctPoWriMo 28 I can’t get onto the website at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I am so far behind? Instead, I’ll just be using the Sunday Writing Prompt of Scribblers Dip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie based on fake band names including: Squirrel Nut Zippers, GoGo Penguins, Abstract Evil Barbie, Bimbo Toolshed, The Pineapples from the Dawn of Time, Reign of Frogs, Devil with Cheese, Stop Calling Me Frank, Loudmouth kitten, and Kissyfoot. 

Credit: Yvette de Wit via Unsplash

When I met him, there was no telling of taste, 

In horrible music he thought was just great. 

I went with him to GoGoPenguin’s shows, 

Cringing as he sang to Hard Metal prose.  

Lyrics made my insides squirm hearing hate, 

He sang with angry fervor berating

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

At Abstract Evil Barbie I questioned, 

How ‘Barbie’ was perverse, lyrics lessened —

Her value as a child’s toy, words fearful — 

Of hurt and frustration sounding eerie

He loved each band, Bimbo Toolshed’s screaming, 

Destroying the whole world in pain keening. 

Beneath his clever smile he revealed his —

Desire to get back at life with derision

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

Reign of the Frogs made me shiver as they sang, 

Maliciously damning all those they harangued

I asked him why we couldn’t listen to words —

That were softer, happier, encouraging. 

But to him, Stop Calling Me Frank’s words curt

Released the devil inside him stopped his hurt. 

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.