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: Poem – Prose Poetry – “We the People” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces. Today the two sets of words are: permit and forbid, and visitor and host. Sorry, this is longer than the regular 200 Words.


Credit: C.E. Ayer


He permits and forbids without reason, with much fallacious thought. He twists words as vines and slithers. A side-show becomes the center of the circus ring, as he pretends he can make you great.


But you don’t need him to flourish. Your strength is in your people, you’ve the right, the ability, to burn such policies to ash. You were great before his birth, before his residence. And — into time, and into the past — his words will fade as hell’s bells knell. With each message of condemnation, each compliment a serpent’s tongue lisping. You never know if you can trust him, and such delusion is surely a crime.


Yet, in a Republic or a Democracy, citizens may choose and remove those who speak only to their self-glories, not of Him above or those soldiers sacrificed; not of the everyday person’s self-sacrifice. He plots and in isolation, he’d have you flounder believing every typed character, every Slytherin parcel-tongued lie rasped. Not the truth that he’s cast on his belly and is nourished in slime. You’re not great because of him, but you are great despite him.


We, your ever watchful neighbor, curse the writing on the wall. Sometimes you’re all too near to see the deception that slips through every crack. Thistle-thorned, tree trunk-sized weeds, poisoning all right. But, if you blocked his words and turned away, gave him no more votes or attention. If you ignored him as a child who tantrums, and slammed the door to his room — his words and lies would fade, no more cats yowling. You could be as one who enters into a serene and secret garden, where suddenly, the silence of blubbering ceases, and your mind crystallizes.


You are the people, and no matter your past vote, you have more power than one man’s ploys. You can forbid his doctrine and not remain astray. While you’re a host of greatness forever reclaiming your liberation, you’ve also the freedom to make his presence, his disturbed and loquacious visit, a memory. Everyone falters, everyone knows the anger of manipulation — we’re all human. So, revise your independence for you all as, “We the People,” are the way to greatness.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: June Part Three 2018 #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Hey, back from Vegas and I’m excited for summer festivals such as Shakespeare in the Park, The Street Performers, A Taste if Edmonton, K-days, and a few others. Summer is such a fun time.

When you’re buried in snow from November to the beginning of May, patio weather, summer festivities, and vacations help many of us through those rough cold times. Especially, if one can’t take a winter vacation. Anyways, whatever you season, enjoy it!


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Published Poem: SpillWords.com – Free Verse – “The Maiden and the Dragon”#amwriting #poetry #SpillWords


Sharing another SpillWords published poem called “The Maiden and the Dragon.” If you enjoy my work, please make like it (choose a rating with stars) on the SpillWords website. Thanks to them for another collaboration.


Credit: SpillWords.com


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Place to Fall #amwriting #fiction #SPFo


Thanks to Susan Spaulding for hosting SPF.


Credit: Susan Spaulding


The catacomb walls were thick and confining. Iris let out a lungful of pent up breath as sunlight filtered through a doorway. The tunnels with so many bones of the same type stacked on other bones, frightened her.

She wondered why in such an ancient country, human remains were not given the respect of a grave for more than a year or two — or at least cremation.

Iris wheezed as Don, rubbed her back. “You having an attack?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “You say that every time we visit tight spaces. You’re claustrophobic.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Iris was close to the exit, but the air she breathed was too stale; there wasn’t enough fresh air in the Catacombs. Her body collapsed and she couldn’t control the darkness that overcame her.

Then, Don was lifting her. Her eyes opened as he carried her into blinding daylight. A tiny ‘V’ furrowed between his gray ones.

He stroked her hair. “I got you.”

“Always?” Her voice was faint.

“Always. I know you better than you think.”

She inhaled cool air and let Don cradle her weight.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Threeline Tales/ Music Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Oddity Stilled”#amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge song, “Space Oddity” by David Bowie.


Credit: NASA via Unsplash


Ground Control isn’t —

Earth a brilliant blue?

Aloft in tin can,

I lived, but for what?

Stars flare, blind in space.

*****

Ground Control, it’s Tom,

Capsules shut, I guess I’m stuck.

Yes, the circuits dead,

The Moon’s nearer too;

Our atmosphere fades; I’m scared.

*****

Ground Control, my wife?

You convinced us astronauts could,

Defy space’s void.

But, there’s nothing to —

Do — weightless, adrift; I’m still.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 25/Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “Phone-Love” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


For NaPoWriMo Day 25 the Prompt is: “to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself!” Also, I’m combining with the Prompt from Sonya of Only 100 Words #3LineTales.


Credit: Alexander Boucher via Unsplash


It was exciting,

To know you, and to learn more —

Until your phone beeped.

*****

Until you set it on the —

Dining table absorbed by —

Its trills, and not me.

*****

Whispering goodbye,

Your phone-love irked me, and I —

Knew that night was it.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 24/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Elegy – “Mona Lisa’s Wish” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 24 the Prompt is: “to write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it.”

Also, combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.


Credit: WeHeartit.com


“In the 18th century the “elegiac stanza” emerged, though its use has not been exclusive to elegies. It is a quatrain with the rhyme scheme ABAB written in iambic pentameter.” – (Poetryfoundation.org)


Mona Lisa’s smile, hiding ‘neath veiled eyes,

Legs kicked back in fine stilettos she aches;

Another breath consuming smoke, she respires.

In her last moments, she did not awake.

****

Tissue-paper eyes, refusing revival,

Her last tar-filled breathe such relief — she smiled;

As she never had before, without guile,

No enigmatic curve, carved-out deep-lines.

****

Etched on fair-skin, no more mystery lured,

Last wine sipped with tales of yesterdays.

Before, her portrait immortalized her,

Defined her, as one — not her, with mild gaze.

*****

Bruised under-eyes, her laugh-lines were disturbed;

Never allowed to fade into obscureness.

On show — as if she was mere vanity,

She wished for no portrait, but kind words.

****

You wouldn’t get a crook’s relieved destruction,

It set Lisa free; made her drop the gun smoking,

So now, she’s in the graveyard tucked;

A crook ruined her visage, as she had hoped.

****

To not hear whispers, your ‘ooos’ and ‘aaahs’ said.

To be free of the glass, the Louvres had her trapped,

A part of her soul in oil, now too is dead.

She’s gone, coy lady, all in Heaven’s grasp.

****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 21/Sunday Writing: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The Unmaking of A Dream” #amwriting #poetry #mythology #MLMM


For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “based on the myth of Narcissus. After reading the myth, try writing a poem that plays with the myth in some way.”

Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on the title The Unmaking of A Dream.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Narcissist so loved himself first,

Blond hair, chiseled jaw, self-love burst.

Down by the pool, his special place —

He dreams of his attractive face.

He can’t find one person with grace–

Enough to see, they’re not on par.

He’s been granted magnificence; his looks they compel,

Admiration from men and women; he loves but himself.

*****

Liriope his mother so gorgeous,

Son of river god, Cephisesus.

Brave hunter disdainful of love,

To proud to care for anyone.

Such was his vainness, he upset —

Nemesis; doesn’t regret —

His reflection, his greatest lust; adrift selfish and vain,

He resents sweet Echo’s presence, her heart aching, her pain.

*****

Some say the nymph she dwindled,

Echo Narcisse’s swindled.

“Leave me alone,” his haughty —

Tone made her stomach squirm, distraught.

She begged, she blathered, she touched him;

But he threw off her hands, voice grim,

She echoed his words; he was entranced in his visage;

No mirror, but a pool’s reflection made Echo livid.

*****

No, the rude hunter did not fade,

Nor waste away with longing gaze.

Echo did not wander until her —

Melodic voice was gone — unheard.

Stomping her foot in anger’s blaze,

She clutched Narcisse’s Hair enraged;

Drowning him in love-lorn grief; a pool of dreams his final grave,

Nemesis concurred, the hunter was best dead; self-love decayed.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Day 15 #NaPoWriMo/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Triquin Chain – “She’s A Witch” #amwriting #SaturdayMix #poetry


For Day 15 NaPoWriMo the Prompt is: “writing a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).” I’m combining with Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Saturday Mix Prompt on Triquains.

Triquain Chain

A string of 2 to 4 Triquains, a space between each triquain.

2 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

3 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

4 stanzas – 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6, 3

—-

Credit:Lucas Sanky via Unsplash

—-

She’s a witch,

She burns and she twitches.

Fire glows, sparks raise, burn high into morn.

She doesn’t feel, because she’s real; she burns all day.

Clergy stoke fire, she doesn’t expire;

The rabble wish her pain —

She’s a witch.

But not finished her time,

For real spell-casters can’t be murdered.

They drowned her, she floated; they hung her, her neck snapped.

Then, when they untied her, she laughed;

Her neck clicked in place, her spine healed fast.

She’s a witch.

*****

She burns fields.

She’s not kind, far too real.

She misled children, gave everyone pox.

It wasn’t her plan, to be mean and vile –to kill;

But those ‘Holier-Than-Thou’ tortured —

Dismembered her family —

Powerless.

They untouched with dark arts.

And all those woman not real villains,

Masked in their veins wasn’t witchcraft or evil brews.

Perhaps, they were too pretty, too —

Wealthy; had much power.

Then, she flipped.

***

She’s truly —

A witch; they made her one.

They buried her alive, let her sink,

Chocking in the putrid river with their repulsive waste.

She’s seen the flesh on innocents burn crisp;

The crackle of their hair.

Tied as she,

On a pier, with hellfire;

To destroy her vengeance, her wrathful ways.

She’s evil, sins with peasants, priests, their hateful hearts.

Cursing their Lords, besieging her home;

Survives fire, lives to smite,

Twisted witch.

****

——–

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.