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Day 15 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Tale Weavers: Poem – Italian Sonnets – “Unbirthday Hell En Medias Res” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #taleweavers


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write poem in the middle of things en medias res. The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Quote is for the letter N. The Tale Weavers Prompt courtesy of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is to write about an unbirthday. 

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Credit: Not on The HighStreet Enterprises – http://www.notonthehighstreet.com

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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. — Pablo Neruda

———

Serve me tea and cut the cake quickly please,

Ensure my tea is cold with no odd hares. 

Or rabbit fur, or door mouse flees their. 

My unbirthday, she is here — the tease

She comes most everyday to say ‘breathe!’ 

You’re not old yet, many unbirthdays left,

Hold your years close to your beating chest.

You look like twenty-five, oh please

Each and everyday there is chocolate cake, 

Loud parties; a mad hatter who is weird,

Yes, the craziesness gets to me some days.

The party is brilliant, but I always peer,

For an escape home en medias res. 

Alice is happy with one birthday day. 

——–

So back to the town, back to my hills, 

No more unbirthdays? Mind left reeling;

Alice’s leaving Wonderland? Sad feeling. 

Pictures on walls here are hung straight — be still, 

To think on leafy forests dear, woods filled. 

The voice of the rain as it falls and it glows, 

But I’m too drawn to rabbit holes at will. 

Back amidst glamorous parties thrown, 

Having left peace a mere second ago, 

The town brook,  seems a mellenia’s dream.

Same crew in Wonderland serving tea. 

Too hot, too cold, to much cake makes me grow, 

Back to unbirthday hell — un medias res. 

——-


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Tale Weavers: Poem – Rictameter – “Foresight” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt having to do with the importance of sight, physical, spiritual, or beyond. Also thank you to Linda J. Wolf of the blog Urban Poetry for the new poem format. Rictameter verse had 9 lines and the first and the last line repeat. The syllable count for each line is as follows: 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2. 

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Also, I know many of you are doing the A to Z Challenge for April. But if anyone’s interested in poetry, join me in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). A poem a day for 30 days. You can sign your blog up at www.napowrimo.net. Each day in April, return to the site for the daily poetry prompts and remember to link back to the website when you write your poems and to tag your work #NaPoWriMo so other bloggers can read your awesome poetry. Looking forward to reading everyone’s poetry takes. If you are REALLY up for the challenge combine NaPoWriMo with the A to Z Challenge 🙂 

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Credit: Google Images

To see,

With clarity,

Minds are required to —

Be open to possibility.

All the relevant outcomes forecasted,

Made with thinking of calculated —

Risks; all aspects bad,

Or fortunate,

To see.

——-

Because,

Limited sight,

Costs lives, so we try —

To foresee what could occur.

What is likely to happen in certain —

Situations; or what won’t —

Occur; we attempt to —

See the future,

Because.

——

We live,

Blindly despite,

Attempts to know.

We can’t actually know;

As much as we make it seem,

As if we can configure potential,

But it’s all a fantastic lie.

We know nothing but —

Footsteps ahead,

We live.

——

Blindly,

Our sight fades for —

Physically our prime is —

Short; but we can see past —

Spiritually if only —

We choose to see, to look within and find,

Our immortality left,

After we pass on.

We try to see,

Blindly.

——-

In life,

We desire to —

Know what happens —

Next; can we stop our fears,

Trouble from taking place or should —

We leave it in God’s hands and let,

Our worry and painful burdens,

Be His to decide,

Thy Will Be Done, 

In life.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Tale Weavers: Fiction – The Eyes of What Now? #taleweavers #amwriting #fiction #IdesofMarch 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weavers. The theme is the a tale on the lighter side of things.

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Credit: Gary Larson

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Steve walked into English 311 wearing a toga and a gold spray-painted crown of leaves.

Dr. Lawerence, their English Professor, laughed at the front of the room along with some of the other students.

“Why is what Steve wearing funny?” Ambrose asked Jen, “Its not like this is some party.”

“I think it might have something to do with Julius Caesar. What about you?” Jen said dryly.

“The play we’re studying?” Ambrose’s asked. His friend, sitting behind him tittered. “Shut up, Dan,” he said.

Dan kept laughing, “How can you be reading Julius Caesar in English 311 and not understand why Steve is wearing that getup?”

Dr. Lawerence overheard his student’s conversation. He chuckled, ” ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ Ambrose. Remember what I said in Monday’s class?”

Ambrose shook his head, “Eyes of what now?”

The student’s around Ambrose and their professor laughed. Jen sighed. ” Caesar was assassinated on the ‘Ides of March.’ The seer in the play told him to ‘beware’ of it, but he was still stabbed and killed.”

“I thought Brutus murdered Caesar? Now you’re saying a seer did?”

Dr. Lawerence peered at Ambrose concerned, “Are you sure you want to major in English Literature, Ambrose?”

He looked up and shrugged. The professor sighed and returned to the front of the room. There was always one in every class.

——–

©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Tale Weavers: Poem – Free Verse – “Without You” #taleweavers #poetry #amwriting


Last week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt was to use the code pictured below, in telling a story. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting.

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

 

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Your garbled words, they don’t make sense,

They were the last words you wrote, then;

You disappeared, no trace of whence,

You’d return, so explain again,

Why you left me alone heart so rent? 

Why you can’t explain our past tense?

You’re not weak, but through aged lense,

Disease stole my gentlemen.

You were young, full of life intense;

With passion for dreams, no pretense.

The man you were is gone; he’s distant,

Lost, his last thoughts code absurd.

I don’t understand, things he heard,

Why he aged quickly; ill concerned,

For someone who used direct words.

Now your life is finite, deterred.

You aren’t who I knew, you’re gone, turned;

Alzheimer’s stole you — who you were,

I’m the woman left behind blurred;

A ghost — now we’re both unheard.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

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Credit: Adventures In The Wild

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Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Tale Weavers: Fiction – A Bit of PDA #amwriting #fiction #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt which is a story about why touch is important. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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I didn’t understand it, we’d been dating a year and Raph never touched me in public. He didn’t mind when I rubbed his back in the mall or if I made the effort to lace my fingers through his. When I first pecked him on the cheek in public he blushed bright red. 

I asked him one day why he didn’t touch me in public. In private he couldn’t keep his hands off me. He didn’t mind cuddling at home and he often tangled his hand in my hair or massaged the back of my neck while we watched TV. I adored these touches but didn’t understand why he was afraid to initiate small bits of PDA. 

I explained to Raph how it was important to me because it made me feel like I was his, that he loved me, and didn’t care what anyone else thought of us. He was angry at first and confused, but the next day as we grocery shopped he linked his pinky through mine while we waited to pay. 

Two days later he casually put his arm around my shoulders at his friend’s house. I snuggled into him kissing him when his buddy went to grab more beer. I linked my pinky with his and smiling, Raph returned the kiss as his friend walked into the living room. I was thrilled Raph understood how much these small touches meant to me. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


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Tale Weavers: Poem – Alouette – “Entrapped” #taleweavers #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt on having a dark side or the dark side of life. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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” . . .Don’t get to close its dark inside. It’s where my demons hide, it’s where my demons hide” – “Demons” by Imagine Dragon

——-

They’re people we meet, 

In them darkness keeps. 

A veil over haunted eyes, 

Something telling weighs, 

Light badly betrays;

Shadows lift, they’re undisguised

—–

Putting on a face, 

Something’s hidden; pace —

Steadily, you’re caught thinking. 

Truth can be harmful, 

Darkness it swarms. 

Seeming ruse has us shrinking. 

——

To start, talk awhile;

Some demons revile

Other darkness isn’t asked for it’s, 

Unfairly gifted, 

Souls broken, shifted;

Waiting for light at home lit. 

——-

No one is so lost, 

They can’t be reformed. 

Shadows hold tightly, a hand —

Gives hope in the dark,

Heals bruising black marks. 

Keep helping, say: “Here’s my hand.” 

—–

Though darkness found can —

Be fearful, programmed, 

In those with no conscience led;

Most people are sought, 

It happens a lot;

We’re trapped in nightmares dread

—–

But the light of hope, 

In dawn always glows

Derelict souls need help, change, 

Is possible;

Not impossible. 

Leave no one entrapped; estranged. 

—–

©Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Tale Weavers: Poem – Licentia – “Some Magical World” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Last week’s Tale Weavers prompt was for us to write about a magical place. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. 

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Credit: Adventures In The Wild

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Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found? 

Place my mind travels inspired profound.

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy. 

A hiding place where I often prefer,

Don’t search for me in my valley secure. 

I’m riding raindrops, kissing the sun,

I’ve never had so much freedom or fun. 

Gentlemen here, always decent and sweet, 

A wink in their eye, naughty whispers keep.

They’ll treat a girl well, hold tight if she weeps, 

And if you would like, they’ll love you to sleep. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.
Gerber daisies everywhere with roses, 

Brilliant vivacity, colors exposed. 

Pixies trailing their dust eternally, 

Wings of lace light night, give hope certainly. 

Everything’s first bloom, so never spurn, 

This place humbles beautiful; with tears yearn

No contacts, surgery needed to peer, 

With clarity of soul, all vision clears. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——-

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 
Here is my land, I’m caregiver among —

Faeries with animals exotic, young. 
In their best-years forever, conversing —

Plainly; furry adore cuddles, nothing terse. 

A tiger cub sits by me so befuddled, 

When wolf pup becomes part of our den.

When I cheer because each word I’ve written —

Makes sense; stories flow unrestricted

 A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.
A comfortable place where I sit typing, 

Art studio where brush strokes have foresight.

Friends visit often, chocolate’s water

No weight gained, eight squares a day should be sought. 

Parties like Gatsby’s with flapper clothing, 

Each night unique theme, we don’t bemoan. 

As if we’re happy drunk with extra spunk,

Able to keep life in moderation’s trunk. 

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Tale Weavers: Poem – Synchronicity – “Safe” #amwriting #taleweavers #poetry #BellLetsTalk


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt which is: a story through the eyes of a child. 

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Credit: UnSplash

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Mommy you let go my hand, I’m quick–

Mere seconds pass, I’m laughing freely, 

I run. 

—–

Mommy, I’m giggling what it is —

Feeling free, everyone looks at me, 

Smiling.

—–

Down the aisles of Superstore, 

You’ve lost me, can you find me now? 

I’m fast.

——-

Boxes, packages to pull down, 

Grinning, happy, into candy, 

Sitting —

——-

Waiting for me on the shelf are —

My favourite chocolate and gummies;

Mommy? 

——

Where’d you go? I think I’m lost, 

I’m scrunching my face, tears begin, 

Where’d you —

——-

Go? Mommy; don’t leave me here now, 

Some lady grabbed my hand and —

It hurts.

——

She won’t let go, dragging me off, 

Stranger danger; no one helps me,

Let Go! 

*****

It’s okay now, Mommy is here

Holding you close, grabbing your hand;

She runs.

——

Scared I’ll turn her in and I should, 

Who tries to kidnap a child in —

Daylight? —

——–

 At all? Cannot trust, stay near me, 

Now you know why and you’re safe, 

From harm.

—–

Mommy will never let you go, 

Her precious boy, her sweet sunshine, 

Is hers.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 
 

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Friday Music Prompt: Poem – Octelle – “Blessed Escape” #amwriting #poetry #music 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Friday Music Prompt, based on the Song: “To The Moon And Back” by Savage Garden 

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“To the Moon and Back” – Savage Garden

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Credit: http://www.keen.com

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If you’re never accepted by, 

Those who should love you, than go fly —

Where you’re unreachable

Find the moon, whom you beseech

For security and bet

Your scars bleeding, will contest, 

Those who injure you; freely pry, 

For reasons you’d trouble their lives. 

——

Some people are thoughtless not your

Fault; you’ve been tattered, left worn. 

Sometimes, life wears us all down. 

As if we’re sand grains, winds pound

Your dark memories will fade, 

Life quickly changes moon’s phase, 

Waxing, waning, there’s more in store, 

Then a brittle past; in life explore

—–

So fly to the moon, your safe place, 

Together we’ll be happy there paced, 

To walk upon moon’s lunar

Surface; it’s dust old assumed

Let the past go; live, let die
Never wonder about our time, 

For we’ve found our home; our grace

A full moon our blessed escape. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.