Three Line Tales: “Tucked Near” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales (x2)


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Nick Fewings via Unsplash.


I’m down-trodden, weakling child;

Until head eases,

Lethargic fog clears; you’re near.

Days are dim, dead dreary,

Dickenasian smog dour.

Gloom plucking my heart’s curves.

***

Yet, within darkness rustles notes,

Silver breezes chime,

Your words are balmy bliss.

*****

As Elijah cowering, cave hiding,

Whisper wind Holy,

Your presence revered; I’m safe.

*****

Calm cooling waters, drench coal —

Stricken sadness; lips —

On my forehead so dear.

*****

Lungs filled with tar-blackness,

Eucalyptus-oxygen cures.

Pain collapses tucked near you.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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100 Word Wednesday: Fiction – Keep Me #amwriting #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.


Credit: Bikurgurl

Our hidden place, a hollow in rustled leaves, tangled roots, as the river meanders close. I inhale verdant greenery and twigs crunch underfoot, as we sit on tree stumps near the shore.

Some occasions, the river trickles and torrents. At times, it’s poured buckets, and the banks pass eerie, too close to our feet. Sometimes it’s a kiss on our runners as we wade.

In the gleaming sun, the dimple of your left cheek lifts. Your grey-blue eyes sparkle; my hands clench as we banter. They curl around bark, roughness masking my wish to touch your hair — a hint of gray you deny. Your laughter resonates, and we quip as usual. I ruin my white Adidas twirling them in dirt. As the river, your stories flow; but, you’re to far — and to near all at once.

I peer up, nip my lip. “Keep me.” Two words implored.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Fiction – Perpetual Hunger #amwritingfiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 300 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Sam Lloyd via Unsplash


Lilly was 18-years old and despite turning a year older, hated she wasn’t able to leave their house on the lake for a city university, not the prep-college in town; Lilly’s family had for generations owned a winery near her current university in Napa. After a dull birthday party she swung to-and-fro on her treasured porch swing, and scowled at the lake — her charcoaled eyes brimming tears; Lilly wondered how much criticism she’d have to endure until she could attend any university she desired in Fall. She had achieved the SAT grades for a scholarship far from the winery and her Aunt’s persistent nagging and constant mention of Lilly’s waistline; she longed for the days could attend school far north in Canada without perpetual hunger.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Wraiths at the Window Dissapear” #anwritingpoetry #SundayWriting


Thanks to MindLoveMisery Menagerie for hosting #SundayWriting. The words I’m using is “Wraiths at the Window.” Thanks also to NELNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s photo challenge prompt.


Credit: Unknown

Wraiths of silver strings near,

Hearts of darkness, at the window pear.

I cannot undo what I have done; guilt of the self-shunned.

I cannot whisper truths of then; they say, “I serve myself and pain condone.”

Yet, I surge to live past window panes — clawed beasts;

For they’re as ghosts, nothing but wild make-belief.

But, closer still, they draw; arm hairs prickle at their spite.

They’re lifeless dream-frights, sick-faced skulls, madness without light.

But, I’m no wraith, evil-sworn in Hell’s pit trapped,

I’m a creature who’s not forsaken; who’s clasped tight —

In a greater being’s benevolence.

So, when I crumble to pieces as wraiths trail close,

I cling to silver sparks, to golden paths, summer sunlight bold.

I’m not afraid of monsters, their creep and slip-slime, shivers down my spine;

I’ve no fear of mystics, their pitiless swords, ropes of malice torn.

Here, daylight seeps through, dawn explodes peaches and cream;

Sky’s beam the beat of life, as powder-puff clouds float.

Scratching claws crunched, but the nightmares are past; they’re ripped from my heart with angel’s might.

For even in my dimmest hours, as one who carried a weighted ring,

I have my Sams, and they bolster me.

I have my white-wizard, omniscient one, and —

While they’re are times fear nips at skin or tears humiliate in dreams,

The brilliance of day reigns; I’m never lost to forever-demons.

The weight of my guilt’s revoked with sweet hope;

A blinding, piercing glimmer challenges each wraith of fright.

And I nudge open pale-eyes on icing-sugar beaches,

Denying dank souls who screeched in my ears, plucked at my soul;

I’m without the crushing weight of the world,

I’m enlightened, strolling through surf, gulls calling,

As chatters alight with gray-finned dolphins, porpoises too.

Beacons in my hour of need, gracing me homebound,

To where our greatest loves –they’re the only real,

No wraiths or spirits wandering, no ghosts —

Their time is ephemeral, without eternity, without Heaven’s bliss.

My time has only begun, & it’s sheen points towards the fantastic tomorrow;

Evil wraiths, dementor’s kiss–forever I resist and conquer.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday’s: Fiction – Star Gazing #amwritingfiction #100WordWednesdays


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays


Credit: Unsplash.com — Ian Parker

The driver had spun off the road decades ago and the grass climbed the old Ford’s wheels as each rainfall it grew like vines to the window sills in the cow’s pasture. The current farmer, not able to haul the truck from his fields, began to mow around it with respect for its rusted history; the story was, witnesses 50-years ago, didn’t see the driver leave. Upon examining the wreck they’d been shocked to see the driver’s seat empty, and now and then, the farmer’s daughter watched the stars from the front seat: she swore a young man in suspenders peered at the sky beside her, his hand grazing hers.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt/ Music Challenge: Poem – “Never Forgotten Twilight Hours” #amwritingpoetry #musicchallenge #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing Prompt. For this week’s Prompt we had to choose 4 terms, and I chose the texture jagged, the occasion just because, the feeling expectancy, and the sound grinding. Thanks also to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Challenge using the A Star is Born’ song, “Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga.


Credit: Darryl Brian via Unsplash.


Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga


Hot red rock, stacked sediment,
A river ran through it grinding crimson, mango, snow-white gleaming;
The Arizona sky blends in painted fusion; you’re alight with night fire.
The scars on my arms lashed, from the welts of the past;
But you love me as gold, see there’s light inside.
I can’t find it, it hides; but your eyes peer through.
It hurts, a jagged line of bruises –I can’t read past the shadows of addiction in you.
A lifestyle that’s claimed you, makes a monster sometimes.
But, I’ll never forget those night’s when we were done strumming our melodies and dived.
I won’t forget those ethereal evenings, stars shooting into the bluish-blackness beyond; the blood moon rising against maroon midnight-blue.
And just because, I’ll remember us always; just because, I won’t forget your azure eyes.

Together we rhyme, croon the words as they form in our muddled minds,

Dream, as our skin brushes close, sweat drips, as the cliffs glow in layers, sediment crushed grande.

In Arizona we rise, together here — there’s no expectancy, no need to hurry, scurry in time.

We hope this occasion is better that the crimson and marmalade sky won’t stop glistening, as fireballs glint on.

We’re lovers in the night, sometimes were poets singing, delineating a phrase or line.

Sometimes we’re opposites screaming, and no words describe the knife slashing; the war wounds are mutual.

But just because I love you still; just because we’re each other’s glue, I’ll never forget these forever nights.

We attempt to rhyme, splintered sounds bite, but we keep writing our, hands entwined.

I don’t know who wrote our ambitious story, but I don’t want to be without your arms, your stardust eyes.

In the ink of night I sigh, as it doesn’t matter where you go, the part of me that’s you won’t die.

Just because, I’ll never forget the fire dancing in the twilight, the jagged edge of morning, ’cause I’ll never forget our time — just because.

You peer in my eyes, the whole world fades black, nothing is left slack, and we argue and snap.

But, I don’t want to be without your laugh-lined smile; I don’t want to be only a memory, beneath the sun-jewel morning.

I want to be forever, together no matter the time, don’t make me a memory — I’ll never forget these twilight hours we’ve espoused.

*****

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Fiction – Plashless and Fated #amwritingfiction #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Nattu Adnan via Unsplash.

At twilight we scramble past rocks and moss-filled beaches, as our feet skim the lake’s surface, squishing into pillow sand; we crouch in anticipation for a silver scale to gleam. The setting sun blinds, but neither of us are scared for we know now, is time to catch glittering fish-dragons; we’ve lost enough to ensure we grasp them all. They’re shadows leap into the marmalade sky, plashless but fated the moment we spotted them.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) — “Full-Hearted” #amwritingpoetry #taleweavers #MLMM


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver’s this week with his theme: all things bright and beautiful & what it means to us. Also, thanks to MindLoveMisery’s MenagerieMindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Prompt #41 “This Is Not the End” by MILCK.


Credit: Joshua Fuller via Unsplash


This is Not the End by MILCK


All things bright and beautiful cleanse; this is not end.

Star’s leap, shrinking violets shimmer tall, lively bend;

Despite storm’s ahead, summer’s heat,

Deepens azure; the sky still beams,

Wide-eyed giggles, cherub children;

Bells tinkle joyful, dreamscapes mild.

Your schemes aren’t the end, despite a shameful purpose;

Sickening plots — lies, your ugly’s gone; I’ve more worth.

****

This isn’t the end, of all things bright and beautiful,

I’m not afraid of monsters, your cunning half-truths.

I’m a survivor furnished,

In sweet trappings of God’s spirit.

I fear not your Slytherin tongue;

I’m a warrior inspite your drugs —

Candy words, lethargy, crafted bitter-bliss —

You’re daft, such a nasty trick; too late — you missed.

*****

All things bright and beautiful, life moves, expands,

Beneath snow spring trickles in streams; ice cracks, your damned.

Wicked man against roaring lion,

His might rages, light that defies.

I’m not afraid of ruthlessness,

For I’ve inhaled His brilliant truth.

You can’t snuff it out, you can’t beat it’s flames; feasting on–

Destruction, your falsehood revealed; I’m no man’s pawn.

*****

Sweet lamb am I, protected from plots; your slaughter —

Without regret, dishonest; I win you falter.

This lapse isn’t the end; I’m free.

Once blind, I stare eyes pitying;

Your tricks are done, for I have sun.

Wild winds, tangled grass and I’ve won —

Space to wander in aqua dawn, white sands beautiful.

All things bright, I’ve chosen a door and key — heart-full.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: December 2018 Part Two #notablequotes #quotes #pinterest #poetry


December’s passed. Happy New Year 2019‼️🥂Keep going. ‼️🥳


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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “A Land of Peace” #amwritingpoetry


Wrote this a few days back. Edited it this New Year’s Eve. Sorry, it couldn’t be happier, but I hope you perceive the wish for that which is peaceful.


Credit: Seth Macey via Unsplash


I hear the blunt of your hammer,

Your riffle as it clambers;

If only to block out the ruckus,

While I’m tucked in flannels.

The world spins and stammers,

Your barrel it twirls, the gun’s reloaded.

I’m a maid of ages,

So, bring home my man, prisoner of war.

Life in medicine-hands, he’s grave and damaged.

No one plans life’s intense dramas, when they’re a blood-bath.

Bullots locked and loaded,

Zipping through air in motion slowed, air ripples —

As a surgeons hands riddle, shells from a civilian caught fleeing —

From a soldier he knows not, from a war he caused not;

From a visage of war, he’s not committed to fighting.

So, bring home my man, he’s the prisoner wounded,

The civilian in shackles; although, you’d never recognize their weight.

He’s the media image — the child crying enamored —

Of a wrinkled photo, the last of his mother.

Or, a soldier’s son’s tears dripping rivers,

Afraid and stammering, the stream of saltwater.

His sister caught snitching, but a morsel to spit-out.

And they’re all dying in masses,

But we peeped through fire-ball wreckage,

Rusted 3rd-world problems to obscene to believe.

We couldn’t perceive a media of glorified killers; crosses blunt ashes.

Of people left bawling as the bugle was calling —

Oh, bring home my man,

He is lost in bombs crashing, the stitching of wounds,

Tumors, fractures, and a machine gun’s destruction;

Stomachs bloated hungering, and cataracts gleaming.

Smoke-ridden eyes granted sight, now horrified —

To realize their home’s a wasteland of dreams.

Oh, bring home my man, he’s lost and he’s broken.

The terrors too much, pain scarred soul-deep,

And his child is weeping, no control is frightening.

Oh, bring home my man from your war of terror ageless,

Be you pagan or Christian, Muslim, or Jewish;

You still war with Aries and feed Jupiter innocent flesh.

Oh, bring home my man, no more cause him anguish,

Not the dreams of a ‘silent night’ lost.

Not another year ridden with gun’s reloading,

Gun’s we’ve packed centuries,

To a place mermaids once swam.

The memories paper-bag brown, curled;

Worn like faded leather; a letter disintegrated.

A story once told,

Where three sisters met,

As poppy red blows in lands long forgotten.

1st world woes, claim to expose,

3rd worlds implode, and no one knows;

Root of the evil, that grows and grows.

So, carry home my man, let his feet not in Opium fields drag.

He’s healed your wounded, your dying;

Now he knows he must leave, lest forever he sleep;

Support his weight, his shoulders slumped —

With night terrors, violent streams of woe.

As the new year comes upon us,

Think not of war’s carnage, let all children —

Of every age in existence,

Live in a land of peace.

Never a gun’s bullets ricocheting;

Never a nightmare, but a life of opportunity;

A day without weeping, words tucked —

In the pocket of a heart that beats, not bleeds.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.