#OctPoWriMo Day 6/Saturday Mix: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Tween Hearts No Veil” #amwritingpoetry #SaturdayMix


For OctPoWriMo Day 6 the Prompt is about the word conquered. “Virgil said, “Love conquers all things.”  What does that mean to you? Do you believe you can face anything as long as you have the one you love by your side?”

Combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Same Same but Different Saturday Mix Prompt. This week, we need to find synonyms for the words:

  1. light
  2. man
  3. handle
  4. wind
  5. bag

Credit: Nathan McBride via Unsplash.


Some love conquers all, and for some love breaks;

The best love nurtures, blossoms, but still hurts.

False love smashes dreams, convulses hopes worst;

Until nothing but indifference awakes.

Until nothing but a shuttered door waits.

True love, many true loves n’er existed;

Words, air — without actions true enlisted.

Yet, persistence, forgiveness, soothe harsh aches.

So shine bright true love, save frail human hearts,

Teach us to be tender when we manage —

Our lover’s dreams, their souls, their well-being.

Let the breeze of a relenting life start,

Let go purses of silver, betrayal —

Walls erected that slide ‘tween hearts a veil.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 5/Saturday Mix: Poem – Free Verse – “Cobbled Roads Denied“ #amwritingpoetry #SaturdayMix


For OctPoWriMo Day 5 the Prompt is based around the word denied. According to Merriam-Webster, “denied” has several meanings: 1. Declared untrue; 2. Refused to admit or acknowledge; 3. Gave a negative answer to, refused to grant, restrained from gratification of desires; 4. Refused to accept the existence, truth, or validity of.

Also combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘s Saturday Mix Prompt, using two sets of homophones: jewel – precious stone and joule – unit of measure, with grill – to sear or cook, and grille – an iron gate or door.


Credit: Adam Gong via Unsplash.

Denied the cobbled roads that lead, to where?

To lands I’ll never lay my eyes upon.

To hills I’ll never have the heart to climb.

Denied because I’m ripped apart inside

Tendrils and dust, ashes and rust;

What’s broken can it be fixed?

Laid across the grilles, tired of being grilled;

But each little chip, each fault line,

Means what once was ideal, will never be again.

Will never be perfect and new.

A jewel cracked, a diamond smashed;

No joules enough to fix the fractures.

Perhaps it’s age, or mere survival?

Taking a step back, finding space to breath.

It’s just that somethings shatter forever;

I haven’t figured out how to reconfigure diamond dust.

To follow those same trails,

And not break a little with each step forward.

I know forgiveness is a balm, a start,

I just wish it could forget and make anew,

Atoms combusted.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Music Challenge/Saturday Mix: Poem – Trois-Par-Huit – “Sleep in Bliss” #amwritingpoetry #MusicChallenge #SaturdayMix #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #34, “Hey Jude” by the Beatles. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix, Lucky Dip. For August 25th, she challenged us to write poetry in the form of trios-par-Huit.


“The Trois-par-Huit was created by Lorraine M. Kanter.

Trois-par-Huit (Three-by-Eight or Octa-Tri for short), a poem containing three stanzas of 3, 3 and 2 lines OR 3, 2 and 3 lines: 8 lines total with a syllable count of 3, 6, 9, 12, 12, 9, 6, 3. The rhyming pattern is AAB BBC CC where the last line is the title of the poem and summarizes the meaning of the poem. *Note: These poems are to appear center aligned. (www.shadowpoetry.com)


Credit: Josh Couch via Unsplash


Hey Jude” by The Beatles


Remember,

Your heart cannot pretend;

So much is possible; you’ve found her.

*****

Don’t let yourself down, she’s a ray of light profound;

The minute you let her in, you’ll feel better now.

Let the light gleam, grab hands and persist.

*****

Her small sighs consistent;

Sleep in bliss.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “The Fighter” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge #SaturdayMix


Thanks to Nekneeraj of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix opposing forces. This week’s opposing pairs are: whisper and shout, and humid and dry.


Credit: CityVarcity


“And Though She Be But Little, She Was Fierce” – William Shakespeare, A MidSummers Night Dream (Act 3: Scene 2).


The Champion” by Carrie Underwood Ft. Ludacris


I’m no faceless void, I’ve been granted reprieve to barriers break,

Discovering my mind, my body healing slow now awakes.

I’m trying to live in short moments,

Dreams won’t fade, no shouts or groans;

No weeping or fearing fierce blows.

Nor shivering in a cold few know,

A champion, I can fight my foes,

They but perceive whispers of woes;

Woes experienced by those who know not how a mind shatters;

Of lost clarity, aching sickness that still batters.

*****

It’s a shock when you notice healing; when your hurts lessen,

When you’re not forever jaded, aching or questioning.

You forgot life’s joyful details.

Skills, hopes, your ability maimed;

Daily routines to avoid what hurts,

Became your normal to subvert —

But now, your reborn hopes anew;

Seeing the lost isn’t askew.

Whirling in hope’s return, less chocking humid shame and pain,

Released from your cocoon, joy-de-vivre once more regained.

*****

All you who are broken, whether trapped or quivering afraid,

Gaze to the Heavens, your family, your friends, unashamed.

They’re your rocks, they carried you;

Don’t forget them, their aiding through.

Remember it’s okay to need —

People’s help, when your hurt, demeaned.

To need is to serve when unseen,

Brittle and dry or slow healing.

You’ve a purpose; nothing’s impossible, suffering’s a strength,

Keep pushing, keep living, keep yearning, keep praying; hope waits.

*****

Life’s never stagnant, we’ve all ‘ups’ and ‘downs;’ no one’s quite safe,

From changes, illness, or heartbreak; but keep achieving great.

Accomplishments can be little or —

Leaping giant steps towards doors;

Those that open — those we must pry,

That we knock, break down as we cry.

Be thankful for what you have, but strive —

To live your life joyous and alive.

Keep knocking down doors, but help others survive their drought too;

You’re no faceless void — I think you’re fierce; vibrant fighter through.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “A Journey’s Friend” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #MLMM


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting this past edition of FfftAW. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix Opposing Forces. This past prompts opposing pairs were: unite and divide, and hope and hopeless.


Credit: Priceless Joy


If we explore and don’t lose hope, street ways —

Will open, words will not divide; doors clear.

For we can’t avoid pain that stings and sears,

On cobbled streets as we meander astray.

But the trail home unites into new pathways,

It’ll heal your woes as fresh wounds too teach.

Some roads aren’t level, they’re beaten; don’t retreat.

Alleys lead to tattered souls, forgotten strays.

Each path comes with reasons, some dire purpose.

There’s an illusion that hearts untended —

Don’t require hands to forget hopelessness.

Let strangers both wander and reverse,

Tell the tales of your lives, share stories deep;

A friend is no loss, journeys require them.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Lunes “Children’s Games” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix’s Same Same but Different Prompt. This week’s words we cannot use and need to find synonyms for are: check, dress, hand, snake, and drop.


Credit: Alex Knight via Unsplash


Eyes bright with metal palms,

No clothing I’m —

Armoured in white-plastic overalls .

*****

Divergent from children of skin,

No life’s blood;

But, my tablet never falls.

*****

Curiosity, wonder; I click into,

Games, to play

Slitherers and ladders; winning all.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Prose Poetry – “We the People” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces. Today the two sets of words are: permit and forbid, and visitor and host. Sorry, this is longer than the regular 200 Words.


Credit: C.E. Ayer


He permits and forbids without reason, with much fallacious thought. He twists words as vines and slithers. A side-show becomes the center of the circus ring, as he pretends he can make you great.


But you don’t need him to flourish. Your strength is in your people, you’ve the right, the ability, to burn such policies to ash. You were great before his birth, before his residence. And — into time, and into the past — his words will fade as hell’s bells knell. With each message of condemnation, each compliment a serpent’s tongue lisping. You never know if you can trust him, and such delusion is surely a crime.


Yet, in a Republic or a Democracy, citizens may choose and remove those who speak only to their self-glories, not of Him above or those soldiers sacrificed; not of the everyday person’s self-sacrifice. He plots and in isolation, he’d have you flounder believing every typed character, every Slytherin parcel-tongued lie rasped. Not the truth that he’s cast on his belly and is nourished in slime. You’re not great because of him, but you are great despite him.


We, your ever watchful neighbor, curse the writing on the wall. Sometimes you’re all too near to see the deception that slips through every crack. Thistle-thorned, tree trunk-sized weeds, poisoning all right. But, if you blocked his words and turned away, gave him no more votes or attention. If you ignored him as a child who tantrums, and slammed the door to his room — his words and lies would fade, no more cats yowling. You could be as one who enters into a serene and secret garden, where suddenly, the silence of blubbering ceases, and your mind crystallizes.


You are the people, and no matter your past vote, you have more power than one man’s ploys. You can forbid his doctrine and not remain astray. While you’re a host of greatness forever reclaiming your liberation, you’ve also the freedom to make his presence, his disturbed and loquacious visit, a memory. Everyone falters, everyone knows the anger of manipulation — we’re all human. So, revise your independence for you all as, “We the People,” are the way to greatness.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Lunes – “Come Morning” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales #SaturdayMix #MLMM


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thank you to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix JUNE 16, 2018 with her Same But Different Prompt. The words we must find synonyms for include: shoe, sweep, wash, sky, and duck.


Credit: Mark Dalton via Unsplash


Sandals pace across the dock,

Mango sunset floods;

Sails enfolded, bodies weave below.

*****

Avoiding knife-words, brush past,

Conversations shouted, our —

Voices spitting, rocking the vessel.

*****

Now night’s atmospheric stars collide,

Dusk’s blush flushes.

Come morning, sails glide devoted.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo/Music Challenge/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Decuaine – “No Pretty Tears” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #SaturdayMix #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Photo Challenge #219. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix with a prompt based on writing a Decuain. Finally, I’m also combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Music Challenge #28 with the song “Cry Pretty” by Carrie Underwood.


Decuain:

The Decuain (pronounced deck•won), created by Shelley A. Cephas, is a short poem made up of 10 lines, which can be written on any subject. There are 10 syllables per line and the poem is written in iambic pentameter.

There are 3 set choices of rhyme scheme:

ababbcbcaa, ababbcbcbb, or ababbcbccc

For a longer Decuain poem, add more stanzas for a double, triple, quatruple, etc. Decuain.


Credit: Enzzo Barrena


Cry Pretty” by Carrie Underwood


I’ll keep my heart closed, remain unexposed,

For I’m just a girl, though composure slips —

I can’t stay rock solid, broke and alone.

To shatter is human as each soul someday splits,

Despite all the glue patching seismic shifts.

I’m trapped in these thorns, a city of ash-bones,

I cry as I struggle caged, my insides nicked.

No one cries pretty, but smiles hide your groans.

You can say it’s all fine, until fake tears loath,

No masking; no one cries pretty like stone.

*****

Lace and gems can’t hide my inner heart’s shame,

I try to be real, but false words infect —

In a crowd or at home, beneath poise tears rain.

Mirrors don’t lie, hurt a picture of neglect,

So, my eyes flow, as infection wrecks.

No one cries pretty, scarring pain isn’t myth.

You can’t pretend when the dam breaks, correct —

Those trails of mascara; they blacken and drip.

Scratching your face, skin red, itching with pain;

You can’t cry pretty — you’ll learn real tears save.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Saturday Mix/ Photo Challenge: Fiction – Dear Moose #amwriting #fiction #SaturdayMix #PhotoChallenge


Thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Double Take. Also, combining with NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge. Sarah’s homophone sets this week are: mail – postal delivery and male – masculine person. Also, moose – a large elk and mousse – dessert of whipped cream and eggs.


Credit: Brooke Shaden


It began with a letter. The clunk of the mailman’s shoes as he delivered a letter sealed with scarlet. Genevieve snatched the letter from her mailbox. Her hands trembled. The writing of the address seemed masculine. It curved without order or neatness. The fact that a male could handwrite these days surprised her.

“Perhaps he’s an older man?” She shrugged and slit the letter. The name on the envelope wasn’t one Genevieve recognized. She did not believe its sender was ‘actually’ ‘John Smith.’ She rolled her eyes.

Genevieve slid three folded cream pages from the envelope and straightened them. The first page had a tiny emblem in the corner. She wasn’t sure what it meant. A ‘J’ with a squiggle looped over and down from the top of the ‘J’ to form a tiny ‘S’ beneath it. The third letter was a ‘T’ that she realized matched the wax seal.

‘John Smith’s’ writing began without greetings. Genevieve read a few sentences and discovered the letter was penned to someone called Moose.

“I’m not Moose, and I don’t know anyone with that nickname.” She struggled to read ‘John’s’ handwriting. After a bit, she set down the first page. Moose was involved in serious business.

She threw her coat and purse on the floor. She’d only returned from work a minute before the envelope arrived. She groaned. “Why C/O Genevieve O’Connor?” But no one answered, as she knew they wouldn’t.

Genevieve pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shower and food. Then, I’ll read more.” She gathered clean clothes and pondered the letter under the shower’s spray. After a half hour, she dressed and heated left-over Ravioli.

She grabbed a cozy blanket from a linen closet and flipped over page one of the letter Genevieve swore under her breath. Damn illegible handwriting. Can’t you print like a normal person?

She padded back to her room to towel dry her hair and to comb through some mousse. Then, she reclined on her sofa, gathering her blanket as she deciphered ‘John’s’ letter. She shivered despite her hot shower, and couldn’t help the feeling that something about this letter was amiss.

*****

That’s how it Genevieve became lost in the forest, and ended up at a summer cottage closed for the fall. Her body trembled and she couldn’t stand the dirt, blood, and other forest offerings on her skin. The only place to wash was a large kitchen sink. There was no shower, so Genevieve stuffed the cabin’s broken window pane with a blanket and stripped.

She couldn’t get rid of the tang of blood or acrid dirt. It made her nauseous. She scrubbed her skin raw, and poured more dish soap on her hair. She stepped out of the sink careful not to slip. As she rinsed her hair, evidence of the past few days whirled down the drain.

She was tired of being alone. She yelled at the absent John Smith. He’d helped her only once before. “You’ve a lot of explaining, John.”His name was a sneer. “I’m tired of this game. I never knew Moose. I don’t know why I’m his contact: let me be, and tell your gun-totting buddies too.”

Her voice echoed in the cottage, and she was alone except for the howling mountain’s winds; its paradoxical breezes made her headache throb. Gentle winds mixed with gusts causing the windows to clammer.

Genevieve scrambled through kitchen drawers until she found the Advil. Swallowing two pills, she fell into bed. The sheets were lavender-scented and the duvet warm. Who lived here? She didn’t know. Then, a hand swept across her forehead, and she mumbled thinking it was a dream.

“John?” Her voice was hoarse, and her hands reached, and gripped a muscled arm in flannel. Genevieve groaned as his fingers combed through her wet hair. His hand rested on her forehead.

“It is you.” The room was dark and only John’s outline was visible. She knew it was him by his scent. Fresh and masculine.

“You’ve a fever.” She rolled her eyes. Genevieve was mad.

“Drink this?” A red mug lowered to her mouth.

“What is it?”

“I’m not here to hurt you, Genevieve.”

“Such a liar.” He insisted she drink it, so she did. In-between sips she grumbled and tried to sit up. He pushed her down.

“It’s Neocitran. You’re sick and you need sleep.”

“I’m sick? Whose fault is that? After everything, now you show up?” Genevieve’s eyes closed as lethargy overcame her.

“Go away, John. I’ll figure this out alone. You complicate everything.”

He sighed. She opened her eyes as he rubbed his hands over watched his face, and through his two-day stubble.

“I didn’t mean to handle it this way. I didn’t know you’d never met your brother.” He combed through her hair once more.

It bothered Genevieve that things seemed less hopeless with John beside her. She wanted him to stay but knew he’d be gone by morning.

“Just leave, John.”

“Not a chance, Genna.” She thought she imagined his last words.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.