Notable Quotes: May 2019 #notablequotes #quotes #audreyhepburn #cocochanel


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©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#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 15: Poem – “Errant Dukes” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 15, the prompt is:


“Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own dramatic monologue. It doesn’t have to be quite as serious as Browning or Shakespeare, of course, but try to create a sort of specific voice or character that can act as the “speaker. . .”


Kind of just used Browning’s poem for this, and ignored most of the monologue bit. “My Last Duchess,” by Robert Browning.


Credit: Fine Art America

Browning’s last Duchess, a smile illuminates well,

Her cheerful words, her eyes glimmer bright, but —

Most would think, the duke at her offed; she fell —

From grace, honour tainted in death for but,

Smiling, cheeks roses sweet blooms praised.

Eyes lustrous, though she reviles his lust —

For an heir, for her each breath, so she gazed.

Drowning in the time others braved, didn’t steal.

Short death revealed a pale Duchess life-raised.

Who rolled eyes at Duke’s pleas; he gasped, blood congealed.

Poison breeds poison, a last Duchess seethed.

His fortune, grins meet; two last Duchess‘ breathe.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) 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 14: Poem – Free Verse – “Whatever it Will Be” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 14, the prompt is:


“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.”


Credit: Hasan Almasi via Unsplash.


Confusion, push through a weighted-wall,

Punch through brick each day.

Scattered concentrate, bleeding buckled, blood slick.

Sometimes it’s okay, a veil so thin it’s passing through sheer silk-organza;

Some days this uplifting breeze, and energy pulses, as if anything were possible.

As if nights could be replaced, vodka-slime and rye-and-gin, no waiting.

Not night’s you’d ever feel ill; all endless Luna-lit trails.

Smiles and dancing, no worries, the possibility of everything;

Today was good, and it wasn’t lonely, not exhausting.

Not a day-past, but a new one made, no-weightedness, no tiredness, no foggy dreams.

No friends downed by c#%^*r, MS, anxiety, addiction, and the wait for good news.

No, loved ones nearer to that other door, where we’re all lost.

Stories created, old ones read with smiles.

No fun times done, no ones personality alters with time or pain.

A world. alight in history, the here-and-know, in all its possibilities,

Light lingers in each window pane.

I like those days — hope the future can have such moments as dear,

As the thrill of lost nights, and the wisps of memories.

Clear and vibrant, not tinged with the weight of whatever we all face,

But, twilight’s marmalade sky shifts

Mango, vermilion, that tanginess of night.

Wilting sunflowers, dried,

For some reason, some tomorrow’s are Mind-numbing,

No shoes to walk-in and understand, if others don’t want.

But I love those bright days, those times I‘m strong,

Even if I’ve endorphins a moment, a few seconds,

Where I’m tac-sharp before the haze settles.

Sleep for a moment, only to wake hiking a trail, along a wild pathway — meteorite-dust trails.

Someday, whatever it will be.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 11: Poem – Lunes – “Miraculous” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 11 the prompt is:


“Today, taking a leaf from Elhillo’s work, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually? Maybe you are from Vikings and the sea and diet coke and angry gulls in parking lots. Maybe you are from gentle hills and angry mothers and dust disappearing down an unpaved road. And having come from there, where are you now?”


Credit: Ryoja Iwata via Unsplash.


Two who were once,

Genes of gazillions,

Divergence, corruption, mutation, evolution, convergence.

*****

Rarity, similarity, survival, yet — weakness.

Fittest move on,

Yet, inherit flaws don’t diminish.

*****

Two once; too many unaccounted,

No memories left;

Our origins linger, incredulous, miraculous.

*****


©️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 4: Poem – “Soul Crooning Joy” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 4, the prompt is:


“And now for today’s (optional) prompt, inspired by Teicher’s poem “Son“. One thing you might notice about this poem is that it is sad, but that it doesn’t generate feeling through emotional words. The words are simple. Another thing you might notice is that it’s a sonnet – not in strict iambic pentameter, but fourteen rhymed, relatively short lines. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own sad poem, but one that, like Teicher’s, achieves sadness through simplicity. Playing with the sonnet form may help you . . .”


Credit: Preslie Hirsch via Unsplash


You can be around your things sad singing,

As if you were meaningless and abstract,

As if you’re loneliness was a forever fact.

You forget the joy of people mingling,

Then, azure-blue skies, clear your head’s ringing.

For a moment in lush nature you’re not lost,

Not alone, fretting and tossed —

As turbulent seas, their waves sling you into depths.

Perhaps, once you realize you won’t drown,

White-capped waves slow, gentle and soothing.

Without fear of hollowness engaged;

You can occupy yourself alone and grin,

Life’s balanced, you’ve both Joie a viva, and feel safe;

You can be alone, yet in a crowd — soul crooning.


©️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.

100 Word Wednesday: Poem —FreeVerse —“Childhood Days Astray” #100WordWednesday #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.


Credit: Bikurgurl


Tears of glass splinter, threats exchanged

Paper walls structured, pretend accords signed,

I’m guilty, but I’m not alone —

I’ve learned to apologize when the stubborn refuse.

When their words of ire as fire singe,

Blacken each day with poison deranged.

Refusing to talk, barricaded in your fortress of white noise;

Pushing alliance ‘neath plush 1960 tree-green piles.

Values and assumptions, lumps and bumps,

Consider other perspectives, act beyond perceptions; no more spats without, “I’m sorry for every hurt.”

But we’ll pretend, and if I speak it, the truth doesn’t count.

Children never learn, it’s the adage that chokes you.

It’s never right to not forgive; it’s a flaw in us.

Your grudges are deep, and your reflections skewed,

Forgetting your words, a problem in a string of failures, things I can’t do.

So, you’ll impose and push, no comprehension of what’s suffered —

Boarders not to cross.

What can I do? It’s what you’ve instigated;

So, I kept myself hidden, avoided your target.

And still, we don’t deal in forgiveness, you never admit fault;

I hate you for it, because sorry heals a plenitude of wounds.

But for you it’s just a word, a paltry thing you won’t offer.

You crowd and yell, murmuring old woes, not peering past crumbs and specs;

The film catches, tulips budding now sputter,

The screen pauses, flickers and they fade.

Defective film clicks, cracked as hearts malnourished.

Every family unhappy, in a vicious cycle reacting to our childhood days.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.