#OctPoWriMo Day 9/Tale Weavers/Saturday Mix: Poem – Lunes – “Roaring Lies” #amwritingpoetry #TaleWeavers


For OctPoWriMo Day 9 the Prompt is based on what love is or could be. Also, thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers. This Prompt was based around the notion of doing your best.


Credit: Ted Kelly via Unsplash

Eyes focused, rod and reel,

Clasped tight, pulling —

Swath of muscled scales silver.

*****

It’s not about the fish,

Lakes’ waves lapping,

Hound dog rocked to sleep.

*****

Not a getaway, but hideaway;

Crazy woman erupted,

Her viciousness spat on him.

****

Apologies mumbled, yelling escalates until,

She’s gone forever;

He sighs, lungs breathing relief.

*****

Her memory a gag reflex;

False love hides,

Behind beauty, lies monster roaring.

*****

His shoulders un-tense, canoe rocks;

He tried; she —

Wasn’t worth her abusive behavior.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 4/ Saturday Mix: “Koala Dance” #amwritingpoetry #SaturdayMix


For OctPoWriMo Day 4 the Prompt is strange animals. Also, combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Saturday Mix Prompt using a Jeffrey’s Sonnet.


According to Shadowpoetry.com, ” A Jeffreys Sonnet has 8 syllables per line. And includes 2 sestets with a cross rhymed couplet (the cross rhyme is in the 2nd to 4th syllable in each of the two lines of the couplet). Also there is a cross rhyme in the first line of the 2nd sestet (between the 2nd to 4th syllable), tying the 1st sestet to the 2nd. So the rhyme scheme would be: aabccb, (b)ddeffe, (e)g (g)e. The letters in ( ) are the cross rhymes.


Credit: Google

Your eyes they glare, mud pupils flared;

Furry ears edged with white-grey hair.

What do you see with such dauntless —

Eyes peering, shifting; are we gone?

Your sleek body quivers; pondering —

Us, odd strangers — hairless, jaunty.

Are we to be feared as we taunt?

Clueless kids tapping glass, so brash.

Mama Koala bear, have you sass?

Energy to climb from your branch?

For we can’t hear your tired moans,

Your yearning for forest’s of Home.

Would you leap, run, given the chance?

Or, would you clutch your tree in stance?

Hugging your young, a mother’s dance.

Yet, in paces your claws advance;

Higher than we below would chance.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 2/Photo Challenge: Tankas – “ Safari Silence” #amwritingpoetry #PhotoChallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 2, the Prompt is focused on sending ‘notes’ and the multiple POV’s that can be included in the word ‘You.’ It also focuses on brevity of form. Also, combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge! I change POV, that’s how I chose to respond to this Prompt, with the tanka form.


“A tanka is another Japanese form of poetry that follows a syllable format. This poem is composed of a syllable pattern of 5,7,5,7,7.”


Credit: Google Images


Beneath a Safari —

Sky, an orb of fire alights.

Roars, scatters, twigs snap;

The Serengeti music.

Another touch of awe at night.

*****

Our fire crackles, we’re —

Speechless as the moon gleams near.

Giant, orange planet-like,

Like it’s not smaller than earth;

As if it’s a world itself.

*****

My feet throb, my legs —

Tremble with need to sit; to rest.

But, our lunar friend,

Is rarely thus; he hardly —

Brushes close; glows white-fire bright.

*****

Yet, we can’t answer —

The calling of dreams replete.

We’re trapped in moments.

Singular, epic, rare as —

Safari silence that numbs.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo 2018 Day 1/ Sunday Writing Prompt/ #PhotoChallenge: Poem – “Death’s Twilight” #amwritingpoetry


For OctPoWriMo Day 1 the theme is surrender. I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt on the poem, “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. Also, using a photo prompt from NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


Credit: Natalia Ruka

She rises, you think she’d shrink,

Lose her footing with knobby bones, bloody footprints;

But, she’s a miracle and survives despite —

The annihilation of her heart.

No surrender, no train cars full of the sick and dying;

No camps of death will kill her.

She won’t surrender, she’ll paint you a dream,

A masterpiece of despair and scribbled features.

A portrait or less, no seashell rocking shut;

She rasps, vapours of her lost innocence.

Herr who?

With battered purple sockets.

Herr who?

A dream or nightmare trawling.

I have no dreams of innocence, only a suffering spitefulness for your hate.

Words that shattered the cracked mirror,

Seventy times seven bad luck.

Herr who?

Miss Plath, your words are riddled traps.

Herr who?

She fakes death, blood and bone snapped;

Flesh from hands shredded.

Your terror camps and eyes of sunken sin,

Can’t make her alive, though she’s not yet, dead.

Be on guard for those caught in-between;

Those who aren’t afraid as the breath in their lungs rattles.

Beware of those who see death and leave life;

The exact meeting of one leaving the elevator, while the other travels home.

Beware of hair as hellfire, she the angel of death;

No surrender, for none was given her.

Beware her yawning grin,

And hollow eyes as she devours men like air;

Destiny with her twisted wings,

Her opalescent fluttering, a sheen that hides the bitter.

Her charcoal hands twitching as they sketch the twilight of death.


“Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath

*****

I have done it again.

One year in every ten

I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin

Bright as a Nazi lampshade,

My right foot

A paperweight,

My face a featureless, fine

Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin

O my enemy.

Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?

The sour breath

Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh

The grave cave ate will be

At home on me

And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.

What a trash

To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.

The peanut-crunching crowd

Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——

The big strip tease.

Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands

My knees.

I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.

The first time it happened I was ten.

It was an accident.

The second time I meant

To last it out and not come back at all.

I rocked shut

As a seashell.

They had to call and call

And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.

It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.

It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day

To the same place, the same face, the same brute

Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’

That knocks me out.

There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge

For the hearing of my heart——

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge

For a word or a touch

Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

So, so, Herr Doktor.

So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,

I am your valuable,

The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.

I turn and burn.

Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,

A wedding ring,

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “All of Eternity Lit” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: David Becker via Unsplash

All of the lights, those vast ships distant.

All of the lights, those mesmerizing jewels.

Shining orbs, dazzling stars,

Dust as gold left in a meteor shower.

All of the lights with infinite yearnings pulse;

With possibility, potential in a thousand galaxies.

Lying in grass sharp, sweet, succulent;

A cushion topped with flannel plush.

We lay entwined, watch the lights, the airplane’s beams;

The choppers blades swooping, pulsing red.

And a hawk’s eyes knife-like, caustic —

While cotton-mice speed ‘cross the field;

Scurrying — not to become a carnivore’s meal.

The sway of the grass lilting hums in evening breeze,

A tune of jabberwockies murmuring hushed.

Birds to long kept, so out of skyways they burst, rapid in flight.

So much light, so vast, yet around us —

The night swallows the bright.

Pitch-black skims past day with purple-charcoaled tar.

And ribbons of white dots, glistening glitter burst;

The serenity of celestial maps; the cosmology of stars, distant worlds.

Astrological divination; but yet here we are — and we stare in awe.

All of the lights, they gleam in your worn denim eyes,

Barely visible in shadows.

All of the lights, the fireworks live-wired in my chest;

They explode on my lips as we taste sparks together.

Our lips ignite — tornado-fires speed; they can’t be stopped.

But, eternal eulogies to the dim, it cannot conquer,

For true darkness never will defeat.

The light came first,

The light will outlast,

The light was and is,

Never can be not.

All of the lights, Heaven’s perennials,

Speeding cars on highways glisten.

The sheen of sweat, and the gleam of skin;

Eternity in moments forever lit.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Fiction – Blips #amwritingfiction #3LineTales


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


Credit: Nathan Wright via Unsplash


On these dark nights, sometimes the words slip away; my mind’s a sieve. I’ve ideas but the fog wanders inside, and whatever I try, I cannot define these thoughts; it’s as if my wings are shorn, clipped from flight. I’m a bluebird singing her harmonious tune, while some melodies become ethereal disappearing into the sun, while others trickle onto paper, wet tears searing; somehow I define them in blips.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “Floating Hope” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales


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


Credit: Tyler Nix via Unsplash.


Sometimes the wind breathes,

Breathes life into —

Desperate lungs, verdant life respiring.

*****

She rolls slow; I’m humming,

Childhood rhymes as,

She breathes sunsets through me.

*****

We inhale, exhale; singing tunes,

Sunlight cools; dusk’s —

Cotton-candy clouds float hope.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/Dverse Poet’s Pub: Poem – Lunes – “Predators” #amwritingpoetry #dVerse #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Lillian of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for her prompt on national hand holding day from August 9, 2018.

——

Credit: Maxim Leyssens via a Unsplash.

——–

Soft, inhaled scent of babies;

But they’ll grow.

Teeth-bared, razors piercing flesh.

*****

In sleep, the sweet siblings —

Snuggle, tucked beside,

Paws crossed overtop each other’s.

*****

Perhaps, they’re hand holding? Innocence —

Deceives gashing claws;

Ripping, tearing, biting; fierce predators.

*****

——–

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: August Part Two #amwriting #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Almost the end of August. I’m sad, but excited! I think if Autumn as the beginning of the year in many ways. Unfortunately, our rather hot weather has turned cool quickly, and it’s not a good sign. But, either way, I think new beginnings are a good thing. Any plans for Fall?


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©️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.