Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: “We’re Done” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NELNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge and Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday mix on the theme of onomatopoeia and the three words rustle, thud, and hoot.


Credit: Google

Our balance as love-birds is precarious. We’re alike yet, so different. Holding our Adho Mukha Vrksasana‘ handstands, eyes closed; our breath mingling. It’s a habit of ours, mutual meditation of bodies and minds. We breathe deep, yet struggle to hold our pose.

A rushing sensation floods my brain. My blood pumps downward and dizziness threatens.

You groan. “Hold it five more minutes.”

I say nothing. You’re too close, I need distance. I’m sick of this arrangement. You take flight far from me; there’s never any communication, until you’re home. It’s as if I don’t exist for you until there’s no one else.

My muscles relax and I flex my feet, rolling my body through my spine, then my hips, until I’m in table top, and then, sitting cross legged. You’ve noticed nothing. Do you ever? I shove your side. Your spindle-legs flail in the air; you can’t right yourself. Thud!

“What the hell.” You glare and examine the scratches on your body.

I shrug. “Too much. I can’t keep this up.”

“Huh?”

“Everything.” My lungs ache; I feel caged. I want to scream.

“What’s wrong with you?” You cock your head and study me, hands on your knees. Your beady eyes send nervous chills.

“Her, all the hers. Cassandras and Stephanies. Kassies and Ashleys.”

“You’re the only Claire.”

I stand. The sun’s hot on my arms as I yank on yoga pants. Crisp spring leaves rustle above me in the river valley along with the some hooting bird. The breeze quickens, and I shiver, stretching high into mountain pose.

I peer at him, as he considers me. “I think I’m tired of peacocks like you. I don’t need your strutting or the women. The never knowing where you are, or if you care.”

You frown, run your hands through your hair, while your toes dig into the grass. “What are you talking about?”

“I need to concentrate on other things, not where or who you’re leaving here for next; the never knowing if you’ll return.” I turn, shoving my feet into pink Tom’s. My breath eases. I’m relieved that I said it, finally.

“Claire, stay. Please.” You twist your hippy-beard and your beady eyes beg.

I close mine and sigh. ” I can’t; no more.” You reach for your water bottle, gulp it before slamming it against a tree. Twigs crack, the bottle dents.

You swear, but don’t follow me as I hike back to the car. When I no longer see you, my body quivers, wracked with sobs. With each step I rid myself of your poison.

A few minutes later I rub my eyes with my hoodie sleeve. I don’t care that they’re pink and swollen.

That’s when it hits me –the silence of no drama, no worry weighing my entire being down as stones. I let the silence permeate me; a peace I haven’t experienced in years crashes over me. We’re done. My lips turn upwards and I smile. I haven’t done that in years either.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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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.

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: Poem – Lunes – “Hollow Liberty” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales


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


Credit: Robert Hickerson via Unsplash


Barbed wire tongue, crescents bleeding;

Crimsons stains wrung,

Scratches, scrapes, gouges; fight wounds.

*****

Scars criss-cross, linger; priceless

Liberty gnawing, piercing;

Glittering eyes, barbed-teeth maim.

*****

Cages, prisons, iron bars, steel barriers,

Keep-out; empty —

Victory; they’ve decided Lady Liberty’s hollow.

*****

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) 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.

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.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Prose-Poetry – “Orreries and Moonscapes” #amwritingprosepoetry #SundayWritingPrompt #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Prompt. From the choice of terms I’ve chosen the words: orrery (solar system model) & Divan (sofa without end), Alice blue (color), Eucalyptus (scent), circle (shape), photograph (item in purse/wallet).


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


“Hope in the Air”


She traced the gold paint bitter,

It gleamed as didn’t dirty pennies.

Her measly sum was but a crumb,

And she had risked it for a piece of man-scum.

She returned, here, always — never too far;

Her childhood land of faeries; her home.

She approached the library orrery,

Spinning the sun’s gleaming gold orb.

A sigh escaped her diva-dream lips; she bit them.

Don’t let a woman fool you,

Scarlet lips, they never stay put,

The lipstick travels, blips.

But, masks blood if you chew them;

If you forget the earth’s relation to the sun,

Your relation to reality.

So, she dreamed adrift,

In knotted flannel shirt and skinnies;

Stroking grandma’s velvet Divan,

As if she could fashionably faint.

As if she could divine meaning, stroking Alice-Blue upholstery;

In cup of tea tumbled, crushed nearby;

China splinters dust, fancy tea spilled.

Some relief in eucalyptus leafs soothing;

She can, finally, breathe in her favorite tea;

Nose no longer useless.

She flips off patined-ruby shoes;

Kitten heals meowing, released.

Wiggling her toes painted with satin-ribbon;

Bemoaning her lost love, traitor, worthless, and without guile.

“I never would have done what you did to me,

To anyone, not ever.”

Last words she thinks, but never hurled.

Her Alice-Blue eyes darken,

Trace the doors golden pattern;

Images she modernized, decor, and memory intertwined.

Turquoise-tranquil dreams as her head burrows in velvet;

Arm thrust over head, maiden helpless — but she’s not.

The Orrery still twirling in a circle as —

Red-herring anger flashes.

Red-lips torn, pain to forget frustration,

Tears as a Phoenix waiting to burn, to discover renewal.

And not enough fresh air in the room,

Library dust, mildew, overpower eucalyptus.

She peers at her gram’s patined heals cherished,

They’ve escaped bone-China chips;

Their antiquity safe on Robin’s-egg plush carpet.

A peculiar aroma, dust, eucalyptus, book spines, horse-glue;

Ancient editions, thrown away,

In her family the women restored; she does to this day.

Yet, the photographs of history split her childhood dreams,

Summers here, years of tea parties, and creamy-egg-salad sandwiches.

Wuthering Heights, The Moonstone,

Peter Pan, and The Sun Also Rises;

Scattered between old-editions, photo-albums,

Pictures, preserved photographs; her addition to family history.

Saving literature, pictures, from sunlight, and tears;

She lies back, stretches and dreams,

Alice in Wonderland, Anne of Green Gables,

The Yearling, and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.

She’s humming a tune,

“There’s hope in the air,

There’s hope it the water,

Not even for me. . .”

Until she yanks out her wallet,

Throws out two twenties;

Penniless, but beyond rich with orreries and moonscapes.


©️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.