#NaPoWriMo Day 26: “Growing Aches” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 26, my own poem from a few weeks back.


Credit: Bruce Mars via Unsplash.


I am weakest (so you say),

That is when your strength defines me.

When I’m meekest and I ache and hurt,

When everyday problems snowball, regular sickness amplifies.

When I was used to doing whatever,

More than I’ve been in a long time ever.

Now, I fall into the pit,

Can’t reach out, the water swallows.

Double-hurt, such a good day then —

Did I overdo it?

I tried, to make a goal; to do just that.

It’s hot, hazy, beautiful outside,

But, the sunshine’s too bright,

Cars revving, pumping music; my ears pulse, some pain.

Am I an older person, in a 30-some body?

I try to be positive, today I cannot.

But I suppose, I must take time to heal,

That little flares, must be sealed to avoid a violent storm.

The process slow and agonizing, but I wait for tomorrow’s fun.

I wait, and I know not for what —

To be at that place where I can be independent,

Help more people and forget the ache — rocky roads tripping, ankle snapping,

Yesterday was as lost as today.

Now, I’m upset that I couldn’t do what I set out to do.

Oh, the plans of mice and men they say.

They’re rather meaningless in the scheme of things;

When health is mostly everything, because it connects to so much more;

And what was once given, is now, lost.

But, I will smile anyways;

I will push beyond these cracks and snarls in the dark.

I’ll find the suns jewels even if it’s an eternity spent aching to smile,

To return to a world of vivacious delight, despite.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 24: Poem – Sevenling – “Choosing Right” #amwritingpoetry


For #NaPoWriMo Day 24 using the Sevenling form again.


The elements of the Sevenling are:
1. a heptastich, a poem in 7 lines made up of 2 tercets followed by a single line. metered at the discretion of the poet.
2. unrhymed.
3. composed with 3 complimentary images in the first tercet and 3 parallel images in the second tercet. The end line is a juxtaposed summary of the 2 parallels, a sort of “punchline”.
4. the poem should be titled “Sevenling: (first few words of poem).


Credit: DeviantArt

Cold tentacles, the octopus‘, beady eyes blink;

Forgiveness, understanding maimed, vermilion sky’s bruised.

Deep purple chills, I — sea witch, clamber in grim slime.

Wind screeches, gusts as glass spikes; no harm do I wish.

Confession –I stole her voice, her sweet tune’s mute.

At moments, we’re all witches, change calms the violent storms.

There’s power overcoming spite, choosing right.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 23: Poem — Free Verse — “Duck-Billed Platypus Thief” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 23 the prompt is:


“Taking a cue from Bishop, I’d like to challenge you today to write a poem about an animal. If you’d like to take a look at some other poems for inspiration, you might like James Dickey’s “The Dusk of Horses,” or Tennyson’s “The Eagle.””


Credit: http://www.wearessecondunion.com

Curious duckbilled thief, I caught you stealing time,

You peeped, squealed, rolled into corners where no one could peep.

Your black-eyes are wide, fluffy innocence peers back.

And your tiny lashes flick, as you hide within fur,

The jingle of coins jolts you, they roll ’round your tummy.

A Crown falls to the floor, you’re off running — to save what’s left of your treasure.

You’re sure no one will catch you– this time you’ve got us beat.

The royal jewels are in your fur-folds somewhere,

You’re a petty pad-foot, harmless, too snuggly for words;

You’re an armful of trickster; you hate being caught.

When I demand my wallet, my cash, and watch,

You cock your coal-dark head,

Perhaps, you didn’t know they were there at all? (You imply).

Tucked under belly rolls, in corners, and squishy edges,

I sigh, take back my treasure, hold out my hand, you chirp —

Duck billed platypus, creature of mole (some other beasts I imagine too).

Your thieveries a whimsy, but no ones fooled,

All you love is gold, silver if you must . . .

You’ll catch it in a sec, a poof of magic dust.

Your duckbilled lips smile, as you scamper down the stairs,

Yet, the things you hold dear, are the most worthless wares.

You need a lady friend,

For her thievery includes not just gold,

But, your platypus heart too!


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 22: Poem — Sevenling — “Seek To Know” #amwritingpoetry


This is going on forever, but eight days left right? So, today (NaPoWriMo Day 22,) I’m doing my own prompt based on Kat from Like Mercury Colliding’s introduction of a Sevenling:


The elements of the Sevenling are:
1. a heptastich, a poem in 7 lines made up of 2 tercets followed by a single line. metered at the discretion of the poet.
2. unrhymed.
3. composed with 3 complimentary images in the first tercet and 3 parallel images in the second tercet. The end line is a juxtaposed summary of the 2 parallels, a sort of “punchline”.
4. the poem should be titled “Sevenling: (first few words of poem).


Credit: Dan Sandvik via Unsplash


Dawn’s clear, shadowed by each day not knowing,

Nothing veiled, I pale sheep mute, come un-dazed;

The alpha wolf’s howl‘s near, teeth crush, tear flesh;

How do you know, when you’ve not been able?

One can’t remain a lamb sobbing, bleating;

The tiger cub’s instincts no fable;

Fresh hope, dim evaded but at what price?

*****

Now, I peer past the burning lights distorted,

Where the sheep and the lambs, are at quiet peace.

The fierce wolves snap, but the tiger cub reaches,

And each lesson teaches —night’s brilliance too.

No more am I lamb, sheep following mute.

I’ve grown stripes, pincer fangs –it’s early days,

Imperfection, growth, it hurts; seek ye first –find.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 16: Poem: “Whirlwind” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriPo Day 16: Just my own poem for this day, written awhile ago.


Credit: Twinsfish via Unsplash.


There’s this whirlwind, a dervish,

Often, I cant escape it.

This sucking of air from lungs, a lack of patience;

I used to have every moment in the world:

It took forever for it to run out,

And I’m relearning this skill.

Some think they can be impatient,

Rudely shove past people, those who deserve it;

But, you can try to listen,

Even if they’re not listening or repeating —

Something you’ve heard one thousand times.

Sometimes you bite your tongue

Stop the meandering mental pathways —

Your questions; remember everyone has had a long day too.

Slide out of the tornados eye;

Through the winds blinding, and binding, confiding your sense of balance.

Dance out of the dust, mud, rain, waves, the anger;

Sometimes you breathe deep,

Turn your lips into a smile, pretend you agree,

Say nothing, let your temper settle.

Remember that simple explanations are best,

That the multiple pathways and methods ‘sense-making’ in your mind;

Is not the way logic works for all others.

So, you shut up, say nothing, until you can explain well,

Without the background, the twists, and stormy turns.

Without repeated words and salesmen tricks;

So, in the end you say thank you,

And in your head, “Go away.”

Because some people are having a horrible day,

And you’ve been there too.

Because it’s hard to serve others and be sunshine 24-7;

Because it’s not worth the damage —

To argue; state the simple truth.

Let others be horrid, be sympathetic;

And charm each angered stranger,

Because maybe after the theatrics are over,

Two can meet for a moment’s truth.

Two can comprehend without rabbit holes,

Without side-questions or insults underhanded.

You can roar sometimes,

But choose your fights wisely.

Deep breathe and stall a second first.

Some strangers aren’t worth the effort,

Some friends aren’t worth the tears;

There are a vast amount of reasons to not lash-out,

Mostly, because the aftermath tells us,

Tiny things aren’t so significant in the giant picture.

One awful experience, does not define a person;

And is likely a second you’ll forget.

Be calm in the whirlwind,

Be kind, and let patience flow.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 13: Poem – Free Verse – “It is Said – Hope” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 13, the prompt is:


“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about something mysterious and spooky! Your poem could be about something that is mysterious and spooky in a bad way (like a witch), or mysterious and spooky in a good way. . .”


Credit: Ron Smith via Unsplash.


No ghosts or goblins,

No rattled breath wheezing.

No spirits haunting from crimson murder houses,

No cursed black cats yowling; only memories arising.

People forgotten, ones I shouldn’t forget,

Faces and moments, but life’s not the kindest,

Then, sometimes it’s roses, inhaled intoxication.

Sometimes it’s gentle waves and childhood carousels; finely carved horses, lively tunes.

Vivid and perceptive, ice-crystal memories,

Riding in a car down the road, breeze blowing hair back, sunglasses and red Polk-a-dot scarf.

Then, the day ends and mist enshrouds these golden-hours,

Seeming ghosts, as ever present’s failure you can’t escape.

Good-times as mint-chip ice cream from a farm, rich and intoxicating,

You could live forever on these fumes –but the seconds keep ticking.

And once you had a goal, talent, imagination, and purpose,

Now the blurry fog of all-hallows-eve sneaks in, and you’re exhausted.

Your form in the mirror, not transparent, but a wisp of your true self,

What you strive for, as you cringe at more closed doors, more ‘no’s.’

And, perhaps, the scariest truth isn’t the monsters who creep or scream,

But the visage of yourself on a rough road you never pictured.

In a life you’re still trying to master, and will only leave twisted,

But, perhaps that’s everyone’s truth, and maybe it’s your outlook?

Maybe carousel music, and butter-salt popcorn is still a possibility?

If only for a nano-second, to have peace and security; utter joy.

To flourish and be better than those memories and faces, gone with the sunrise,

To rest in bed, not holding your breath by a graveyard.

For, no matter the circumstance, there’s always, it is said –hope.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 10: Poem – Free Verse “Despite” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 10 I’m writing a poem not based on that days prompt.


Credit: Pinterest.com

Wake me in vermilion and peach,

The sunset explodes, but I’ll sleep through, gaze as it blends with cerulean sky.

The beauty of a light –I’m awake and have the energy of a thousand years in hours.

Wake me up, when my bones aren’t stiff and my mind not muddled.

For healing, offer carmine apples, lush lemons sour;

Hot pink tulips leaning towards sunshine, the omniscient glimmer.

A liberty in nature’s art, space to breath and become;

God, don’t let me drown,

Or tumble; don’t let my mind muddle, my body betray.

Never return to those darkest hours, the hurt of anger, such rage;

The storm that swallowed me; yet, created me as ‘me’ today — whoever I’m becoming,

As I tread, swim through cement waves and air seethes into my lungs when I surface.

Aid me as I discover, my rhythm in life, melodic movement to overcome the dim.

Let me meander verdant forests, trails of enlightenment, peace to wander and laugh,

Picnics, wine, and beaches in the sun, with my friends and loved ones.

Leave me in tranquility to amble amongst wild fuchsia flowers,

Let life not be rigid, placed in rows upon rows of suffering.

As the wild flowers bloom in every direction, soothe my soul every way it leans.

For I fear that it will never grow upright, gain the suppleness of a giant oak;

Perhaps, I’m flimsy, but you renew my strength.

And whichever way I’m swept, let the daylight warm my petals; my flexible stem let it bend.

Though white skins burns, let your healing burn brighter, as sleep soothes all wounds;

Let not little strokes, those choking quakes, break me from my journey.

So, I’ll keep pushing, the blue bird unafraid to try to dive;

My stomach aches and falls to the ground, the shadows swim closer, yank me under the waves.

Yet, in your hands I’m safe, there’s no harm, my wingspan lengthens,

I may limp, but that’s never meant I cannot fly, achieve possibilities despite misery’s woes.

Despite — I’ll always take flight despite.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 2: Poem – Free Verse — “To Live” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 2, the prompt is:

“Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is based on this poem by Claire Wahmanholm, which transforms the natural world into an unsettled dream-place. One way it does this is by asking questions – literally. The poem not only contains questions, but ends on a question. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.”


Credit: Ben White via Unsplash.


Sometimes I’m the spirit child,

Forever pigeon- faced cooing.

Sometimes I’m one-hundred-and-one,

Lapis Luzia blue eyes and crinkled skin,

As seconds tick, shoes tap the floor.

But to whose office am I called, faded bloom or seedling?

Sometimes I am the unsinkable youth,

Glorying in winds, summer wind’s bustle at midnight.

2:00 a.m. suppers, 2:00 p.m. breakfast –swallowed with Advil;

But sometimes it’s Aspirin, to thin retirement blood.

At times 2:00 A.M. is cornpops and milk,

When chicken breasts on salads, and protein shakes are grim;

I can’t swallow cardboard, but I’m not — I’ve tastebuds functioning.

Shall I have my shake to slim my physique?

Or, drink it too keep my nutrition in-sink?

Who wants to age frail, but neither do we want to be fat,

I think we never win,

Time is outside our boundaries.

And, sometimes I’m a teenager rolling with puppies,

With floppy ears and downy fur,

Tummy bare, rounded.

Sometimes my chest flutters, absorbing nips and belly rubs,

Because in such a short time,

She wheezed and I couldn’t awake to be there.

I knew enough, in the stillness of her beauty, what no breath meant.

Age took not her thick coat,

Only transported her to Elysian Fields,

Where we could not be together.

Sometimes I’m her bouncing through fields, cornering chipmunks,

Snuggling in the pack and running for miles.

Then, I’m the patient who’s wistful at her energetic tail.

Too tired to think beyond, the glory of her life,

To stretch and tag along at first so slow,

As she springs off of trees and barks like a bandit;

But, then I’m strong enough to ferry her across death’s rivers.

Later, I’m the painter with jubilant dreams,

Charcoal smudged, thick acrylics, immersed in sunlight.

Or, am the father-tree thick, ever-growing,

Am I one-hundred-and-fifty, here first;

Branches upswept, trailing the clouds.

But, you rip me out, brutally, as a beating heart,

My roots torn, paper shredded.

You make room for your concrete, your steel,

Your building and students, who know not my ghost.

Am I anyone or anything because I was?

Am I anything, was I once?

Now, I’m the knowledge they learn flourishing,

Then, I’m deep, rich dirt.

Reminded that in all homelands,

That all our histories are layer-upon-layer,

Sediment shattered, walls reconstructed.

Fire, earth, wind, and water didn’t end us —

What does? Will they remember before?

But then, I’m the tiniest weed, and still I live,

What’s life?

Your perception of what it is to be alive?


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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.

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.