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.

Three Line Tales/ #TaleWeavers / #MusicChallenge: Poem – Bop – “Doorway to Home” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and his Tale Weaver Prompt of “time’s up,” literally or figuratively in a piece 500 to 600 words at most. A triple combo for this one with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge and the song “Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can)” by Laura Marling.


Credit: Sonya


Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can” by Laura Marling


Time’s a limited but precious present,

So, never squander it so hesitant.

Don’t be an old man with words lost to the sea,

Say what you truly mean, set your soul free.

Don’t let the end come your wasp’s tongue too numb,

Don’t fear my next visit, your mind and ears dumb.

Learn — never forget to hope against hope;

Spend not life somber, your last line’s aren’t wrote.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

Men may fall graceless when easily provoked,

They’ll stumble, choke as life’s gift is revoked.

Death’s the end for all, one day the reaper;

Face me not with fear, I’m your soul’s keeper.

I come not with curses for those who’ve kept faith,

I’m no doom-ridden creeper nor dark wraith.

So, fear me not, live your life full and whole;

Shrink not — fear your evil deeds, those woeful.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

So, don’t give in; pull your boots up, hold —

Onto your candle, its flame’s spreading bold.

I can’t save a soul, with good deeds or gold,

I can share His light; it burns but He’ll mold —

You up-right when your wax melts, and you wane.

Before it’s done believe, gleam bright with God’s hope.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

******


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Music Challenge/Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “ A Fallen Star’s Quest” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #32 on the song “Moon River”sung by Audrey Hepburn. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: ezornier @deviantart


Falling blaze of light, night faerie,

With feathered puff wings she tarries.

Downy angel of stardust sent,

After the Moon Rivers descent.

Wider than a mile it bubbles,

Cutting past her legs stumbling.

She lifts feathers to fly, but her wings are weights, ball and chains set;

Sunshine hair in her eyes she smiles, but her feet lurch dirt wet.

*****

As the moon’s orb casts brilliant beams,

Directs a path she deftly gleans.

Her body trembles winter cold,

Winds chilling skin; for she’s been told —

When to earth she fell, she chose weak;

To no more be a star so sweet.

Her wings disassemble, feathers as snowflakes fall, flutter;

Mud sucks her feet; she’s a once gleaming bird wingless, sputtering.

*****

Dimmed star, broken-hearted lover;

She seeks a soul; he loved her ‘bove.

She treads his way, an innocent,

Not knowing human sorrow’s pins;

Her wisdom lost, but she peers and waits.

Branches rustle, spirit engaged;

Perfection fumbles in girlish form, black-hole discovering —

A quest; she’s swept down Moon River, crazy truth uncovered.

*****

Stardust child with heart unchanging,

Rides a rainbow’s trail on the chase.

She’ll find him; he’ll gentle whisper,

Asking why she became a wisp.

She’s down Moon River full of angst,

Though, with her wings she scaled its banks.

With tears of joy on petal skin, she’s found her dream-maker;

Her heart sparks; he bends to carry a star home, she’s quaking.

*****

Their two drifters mingling swiftly,

Rising to wander the world’s mists.

Places of wonder that light her eyes,

Thunder breaks, in terror she cries.

They’re a duo with each other —

For but a lifetime’s sacred vows.

In years, the nebula rekindles shines with her soul twin;

Falling blazes, light ethereal, on infant wings both spin.

*****


©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.

Music Challenge/ Photo Challenge: Poem – English Sonnet – “Softly She Remains” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #31 and to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: Mari Lazheva via Unsplash


Killing Me Softly” by the Fugees


Giselle is lost, that’s what they say, while I,

Lay in the abandoned pool, head bent.

I hum tunes here, no water brims; he died.

Thinking back; laughing at time’s memories spent.

Giselle, love! His sweet words still kill softly;

His gentle touch perceived pain, strummed music.

His guitar played songs we wove, sunken softly,

Water and tears drown, kisses, lyrics.

Nights under stars where our voices blended,

Giselle he moaned, as we mixed our sound.

But he’s gone; that truth pummels without end;

A love of teenage madness; our ship downed.

Killing me softly, he’s gone but I’m here;

Flushed with regret’s knife, he’s no longer near.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Bop – “Awake, Come Out”#amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


Thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge #221.


Credit: Mittas Milos via Unsplash


She peers through the hole, an escape from wolves,

Cage so confining; she cant’ soothe her soul.

Not with the threat awaiting, but she sees —

A man with wire-cutters; she can’t conceive,

Why a person wants inside here, hell’s pit.

In a prison, a dystopian city.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.

How long will it take before the guards see?

Her drawing closer to the outside free?

How long until their weapons burn skin, stun;

Encase her once more, ‘neath dark clouds, no sun.

This city’s bleak, an industrial hole,

A dim life with only unending moans;

Those young crepe wrinkled, eyes as burnt-out lights,

No one’s home, they slave, trapped in dreams vapid.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.

Awake, awake, the grass gleams, the sun beams,

Come out, come here, where the air’s clean and breathe;

Leave toxic slums and poisonous waters.

Freedom waits; life not treated as fodder.

Slip out of the hole, amidst bullets and shouts;

Run if you can, don’t stay here scared; come out.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Stairway from Forever Winter” #amwriting #poetry #TaleWeavers #PhotoChallenge #MLMM


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge #220. Also, thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weaver prompt on the them of a voyage of discovery.


Credit: Silvia Grav


Shivering as if I’m shedding,

As if I’ll never know heat;

Or a belly without ache.

Crisp bacon and sausage sizzles,

French toast with cream cheese;

Clouds of whipped cream,

Maple syrup flowing in valleys;

Sweet strawberry jam,

Tart on my tongue,

The crisp-softness of toast;

Homemade bread devoured.

Orange juice with champagne,

Sweetness and fizzing bubbles.

Chatter, hands passing,

Sniggers and giggles;

Raising the bar; the bets are laid —

Who can eat the most pancakes?

There is plenty in this dream,

Richness and generosity abounds —

Reality’s barren and frosted.

No warmth of hugs or arms over shoulders,

Until a burning stillness settles.

The sensation of hovering above,

Until your firefly soul lifts.

The memory of family, breakfast with ice-cream,

Strawberry sauce and flaked croissants;

Of food so boundless that all gnawing hunger’s abolished.

No daydream with clawing pains,

Only serenity, path into a place —

Where loved ones suffer not.

Where there’s no war to justify —

No battle to survive;

Nor land that will not thaw to grow.

Above, there’s glowing prosperity,

A joyfulness that never pales.

No ice-white skin preserved in chill,

No forever winter.

A flame that flickers and overwhelms,

Sparks and heat spread,

As butter melts on fresh bread.

Reflecting on golden streets,

A feast as none knew before.

Temporality extinguished,

The relief of a forever home

Not hunger nor strife.

It’s unimaginable,

But after all the misery —

This stairway’s an easy flight.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Feed Me” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM #SamaritansPurse


Also thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Sunday Writing Prompt based on a cause near and dear to our hearts.


If you feel so inclined you can donate towards ending impoverished children’s hunger, and towards their betterment through education at:


Credit: Google – Go Fund Me for Samaritan’s Purse


Feed me, a child starving during last bell,

Give healthcare, no dirty water in the well.

For a coin, a donation receipt dealt.

I’ll help my family, the week will be swell.

Cloth me; I need not Prada, pearls from shells,

I’m suffering in an earthly hell.

So, do as God says, give to those who’ve less —

While you too flourish, and pamper yourselves.

There are parts of the earth — they’re called third-world,

Where baby’s stomach’s bloat, so malnourished.

Where disease’s rampant, and poverty’s a curse —

It’s not their fault, so halt your insults hurled.

Improve their lives; buy pencils, books for school.

Let no child ride the metaphorical Hearse.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Seven Times Seven” #amwriting #poetry #PhotoChallenge #MLMM


Thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge.


Credit: Gamze Bozkaya via Unsplash


Pumping legs into the azure,

O’r mountains of snow and rock,

O’r the lush valley below.

Sweat dripping, hands clenched,

Thin cord strung to a wooden plank.

Legs bending, back and forth,

Lungs gasping as I fly.

Seven times seven, as fresh mountain air inhaled.

Breath respires,

Wondering if after seven times seven,

I could soar as the hawks or the jays?

Or would I crumple? A boulder colliding with the ground;

A meteor splintered.

Bones snapping, pine’s lashing.

Seven times seven; I’m not afraid.

But, in our cabin above the valley,

They’re yelling, and she screams.

The blows fall; I cringe, heart flutters rapid.

Pushing my legs forward and back,

Seven times seven, how long can she survive?

Each fight’s more grim.

Seven minutes, then she’s crying, and wounded;

I wash away the blood.

Bandage and set the bones beneath purpled orchid skin.

She says to forgive seven times seven,

But, my hate has increased sevenfold;

His fists mutilate her each time.

Seven-years trapped up here,

But, in seven-days we’ll run.

No more soaring, no more crystal skies,

For seven times seven,

For her life and mine.

I must steal her away —

Not to die with each sip of his rye.

We’ll lose ourselves,

Seven times seven million miles away.

He’ll never find us — not in his forty-nine years.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction/ Saturday Mix: Fiction – Radio City Memories #SaturdayMix #amwriting #fiction #MLMM #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also, thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Saturday Mix prompt on Double Take with the homophones: lacks – does not have, lax – loose discipline. Also the words hangar – garage for airplanes, and hangers – from which things clothes hang.


Credit: Susan Spaulding


“They still keep this old place? Someone’s been lax with the upkeep. It’s lacking any since the ’80’s.” Milo stared at his nephew. “Radio City’s been ’round almost a century. She has old bones, those are hard to preserve.”Riley sniggered and shook his head. “What’s this Art Deco run-down to you, anyways? You a Rockette’s fan?””Your grandma was, but that’s not why I like it here. In 1978, Radio City became a historic landmark. They renovated it. It was this huge hangar attracting musicians and actors.” Milo held Riley’s shoulder. “When I was twelve, my friend and I snuck in as famous singers performed, and during movie premieres. There were back doors often left unguarded. ” “No way you snuck in.” Riley elbowed Milo. He grinned and ruffled Riley’s modern-mullet. “Today if you did they’d arrest you. Back then, they didn’t think kids were that smart. If they caught us we’d say our parents made us go and we were bored. We’d dress up too, and wore pressed suits from wire hangers.” Riley’s smooth skin crinkled around his frown as his great-grandma’s had done. “Whatever you say.” Milo shrugged. “Your dad came with us.” Riley laughed and kept walking, but Milo paused. He closed his eyes as he recalled Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and her pointed bra in nude-pink. His thoughts shifted to Kurt Cobain’s faded notes of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” to a more recent premier of a Harry Potter film with his daughter, Maisy.At the street corner Riley waved, waiting for his Uncle. The kid was always hungry. Milo recalled that ache too.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.