Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Bop – “Set Free” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting the past edition of FFtAW.


Credit:@wildverbs


“Bird Set Free” by Sia


I’ll shout it out, have no doubt, I’ll fly free,

No whispered tunes of birds flitting off key;

A hush of melodies from ages past,

Notes, movements, which won’t disappear — they’ll last.

So, I’ll shout it out like a bird set free.

Singing for love, for possibility,

For the sweetness of words’ probability.

To soar, to rise high, past rising winds,

Find His Spirit within, not to rescind —

Those promises not given lightly, but —

Oaths we crossed ourselves, and kept, to catch gusts —

Off the highest cliffs and spread our wings fast.

Wait; breezes tickle wings, catch the updraft.

So, I’ll shout it out like a bird set free.

Holy Spirit as you rose, naming Him,

Your Holy Son, whose blood liberated sin’s —

Hold on all, on those who who yearned for flight.

No more pain; no more losing wicked fights.

No more bullies who pull feathers out; who —

Know not the joy of sky’s an unknown blue.

So, I’ll shout it out like a bird set free.


©Mandibelle16. (2018)

Photo Challenge: Poem – Bop – “Awake, Come Out”#amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


Thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge #221.


Credit: Mittas Milos via Unsplash


She peers through the hole, an escape from wolves,

Cage so confining; she cant’ soothe her soul.

Not with the threat awaiting, but she sees —

A man with wire-cutters; she can’t conceive,

Why a person wants inside here, hell’s pit.

In a prison, a dystopian city.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.

How long will it take before the guards see?

Her drawing closer to the outside free?

How long until their weapons burn skin, stun;

Encase her once more, ‘neath dark clouds, no sun.

This city’s bleak, an industrial hole,

A dim life with only unending moans;

Those young crepe wrinkled, eyes as burnt-out lights,

No one’s home, they slave, trapped in dreams vapid.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.

Awake, awake, the grass gleams, the sun beams,

Come out, come here, where the air’s clean and breathe;

Leave toxic slums and poisonous waters.

Freedom waits; life not treated as fodder.

Slip out of the hole, amidst bullets and shouts;

Run if you can, don’t stay here scared; come out.

If only to escape and right past wrongs.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Poem – Bop – “Golden Haze” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting this week’s #3LineTale. The Tale became an entire poem.


Credit: Sharon McCutcheon via Unsplash.


Gold” by Imagine Dragons


Now you’re blessed, so confess all your lost dreams,

Diamonds, emeralds your curse, tearing your seams.

How do you know it’s all real, that you still feel?

How do you cry, when you’re numb and reeling?

Too much gleam of Ag, shallow and false,

You heart doesn’t thump; Midas stilled its pulse.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.

Such appeal of golden apples faltered —

You can’t eat metal, push away your faults;

Hide your cursed shining touch, voices hush —

No more lies; who now can you even trust?

Everything you graze turns to gold, gold, gold.

You’re a statue bathed in it, no old —

Friends by your side; ruler of cold and stale.

No wine and meat, it’s as ash chewed, inhaled.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.

Hollow, bathing in liquid gold streaming,

Trying to define it meaninglessness.

Your void in life, as you fade down the corn maze,

A woman hopeless, in a smokey haze.

Life’s no dream when your touch destroys all inane,

You’ll not escape — greed’s your ever-long shame.

When everything you’ve got turns to cold gold.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 16/ Tale Weavers: Poem – Bop – “Snake Oil Please” #poetry #amwriting #taleweavers #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 16 the Prompt is: “to write a poem that prominently features the idea of play.” I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt about Making Sense of Nonsense in which Adder’s Milk Snake Oil is the focus.

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

—-

Genuine Snake oil

Guaranteed Cure-All

Rub it in, take a spoonful each morning,

Infuse it in your tea.

Guaranteed Success and Instant Relief of all and any disease you might have.

——

Snake oil how absurd; think it will me cure?

Ma, can I go outside, do you concur?

Must I remain in bed? Same old card games;

I’ve played Spades each day, now I long for rain.

To jump in puddles, to soak myself wet,

Not to cough, wheeze — I hear snake oil’s the best.

It can heal the deepest wounds and relieve —

My greatest foes, both my lungs that less breathe;

Each and every day, my breath it thickens,

Other cures you give, they’re all pain ridden.

I want to go outside, play marbles and run,

Fast and hard, race the other boys for fun.

Let me free to shoot cans, snake oil can do that;

It will let me live my dreams at last.

Mom, do you hear me? Boil it in my tea.

Rub it on my chest, the soles of my feet.

I’ll no longer cough-up red, then I’ll soar;

My devotions are all read, so I implore.

Just pour it down my throat, then I’ll breathe,

Fresh spearmint air; snake oil for me, please.

—-

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 7/Photo Challenge: Poem – Bop – “Sanguine Souls” #amwriting #photochallenge #poetry #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 7 the Prompt is: writing out a list of all of your different layers of identity. These are all ways you could be described or lenses you could be viewed through. Now divide all of those things into lists of what makes you feel powerful and what makes you feel vulnerable. Now write a poem in which one of the identities from the first list contends or talks with an identity from the second list. Combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie photoChallenge.


Credit: Vincent Bourhilon


Woman child in graceful state flounders through,

Exhausted with curves of words, ink’s flow construed.

A sweet child, and a scarred adult struggling,

Methodical but scattered, spilling tears troubled.

Poet writer, editing with distaste,

In the Sky muses flow, balloons marking pace.

Creative idealist, survivor with wings,

Intrepid dreamer, with art that thrills, sings.

Facade masks, trembling limbs — nothing left,

Free-spirit, heart-thinker, world spins bereft.

Inexperienced, too much experience,

Judgement quick, while thick walls erected fence.

A fatigue that’s indescribable; it wanes —

A day, then spontaneity — pink blooms raise.

Sheets entrap, day comforts in blissful bed,

Tomorrow I’ll flex limbs, do yogi bends.

Serenity centres, pain released,

Rising — the artist designer concedes;

Inspired empathy, words can’t define,

Freedom in art from pain; sanguine souls climb.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 14/ Saturday Mix: Poem – “Don’t Speak” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix


November Notes Day 14 has a song Prompt Calle “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt. It’s one of my favorites from when I was twelve or thirteen years old and is one song that launched No Doubt and Gwen Stefanie into Star-dome. I’m combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Prompt on not using certain words including, meet, look, any, draw, fly. The idea is to find other words that mean the same thing.

Oh and P.S. NovemberNotes well continue for me into December until I’m finished all 30 days of songs.


Credits: Cristian Newman via Unsplash


Don’t Speak” by No Doubt


You and me used to be, we were always,

But it appears as though we’re parting ways,

Yet if it’s real, I don’t want to know,

You’ll only try to soften every blow.

I’ve lost my best friend, he fell in love with —

Her; he forgot about me, no goodbye kiss.

Don’t speak, I don’t need reasons they all hurt.

I don’t need your explaining, don’t speak,

Keep locked tight your sad excuses so weak.

Words of lies repeated, don’t speak, don’t speak!

You and I, we’re dying in the bleakness,

As your words are altogether frightening,

My blackened sky flares up with white lightening.

So telling of my anger, dark, loathsome,

It seems as though I’m actually letting go.

Don’t speak, I don’t need reasons, they all hurt.

Don’t tell me because it stings as rain,

Becoming thin needles, intense sharp pain.

Don’t speak, don’t speak, I don’t need your reasons,

Stop trying to talk for merely pleasing.

I believe we had our time now are connection ends,

Your soaring, sketching delusions to spend.

Don’t speak, I don’t need reasons, they all hurt.


© Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo 28/Sunday Writing Prompts: Poem – Bop – “What Release’s Pain” #amwriting #poetry


For OctPoWriMo 28 I can’t get onto the website at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I am so far behind? Instead, I’ll just be using the Sunday Writing Prompt of Scribblers Dip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie based on fake band names including: Squirrel Nut Zippers, GoGo Penguins, Abstract Evil Barbie, Bimbo Toolshed, The Pineapples from the Dawn of Time, Reign of Frogs, Devil with Cheese, Stop Calling Me Frank, Loudmouth kitten, and Kissyfoot. 

Credit: Yvette de Wit via Unsplash

When I met him, there was no telling of taste, 

In horrible music he thought was just great. 

I went with him to GoGoPenguin’s shows, 

Cringing as he sang to Hard Metal prose.  

Lyrics made my insides squirm hearing hate, 

He sang with angry fervor berating

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

At Abstract Evil Barbie I questioned, 

How ‘Barbie’ was perverse, lyrics lessened —

Her value as a child’s toy, words fearful — 

Of hurt and frustration sounding eerie

He loved each band, Bimbo Toolshed’s screaming, 

Destroying the whole world in pain keening. 

Beneath his clever smile he revealed his —

Desire to get back at life with derision

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

Reign of the Frogs made me shiver as they sang, 

Maliciously damning all those they harangued

I asked him why we couldn’t listen to words —

That were softer, happier, encouraging. 

But to him, Stop Calling Me Frank’s words curt

Released the devil inside him stopped his hurt. 

There’s never any accounting for taste. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 



#OctPoWriMo – Day 6/ FFftAW: Poem – Bop – “Reviving” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


For OctPoWriMo Day 6 the theme is pacing the floor. Also, I’m combining the Prompt with a couple of week’s old FFftAW Prompt held by Priceless Joy

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Credit: Pamela S. Canepa

——-

Back and forth, the floor boards are wearing out, 

Middle of the night where sleep is doubtful. 

High up in my condo, the black sky peppered, 

With giant twinkling points of light inspected. 

Watching from my glowing widows my feet, 

Tapping, then pacing to and fro with defeat. 

Now I lay me down to sleep while cars screech.

There’s nothing in me that makes sense of us, 

Of our loss, the pain mutually rusted. 

How do you find satisfaction being —

Aware of the wall’s writings, not seeing,–

How near the end we were without vision. 

Feeling fog come creeping, our schism —

Not a memory useful in the inky night. 

I survive, healing , letting go the fight. 

Now I lay me down to sleep while cars screech

From high above I watch the night, good friends – 

Walking, conversing, laughing, time extends. 

Wishing I was below to hear their words laughed, 

As my flat isn’t a home but small paths —

Towards more, silencing your name, rising —

In darkness; finding peace, my soul revives

Now I lay me down to sleep while cars screech. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weaver: Poem – Bop – “I’ve Enough” #poetry #taleweaver #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers #176. The Prompt is what it is we want in life. Also, thanks to Bodhirose of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting open link night. 

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Google Free Image

——-

All the things I want, do I really need? 

Do I need more shirts, more heels, is that greed? 

If I made my sum of money wanted, 

Would it ever be enough? Life’s haunting  —

Me to spend more cash, not to save some more;

Could having more money make you poorer? 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

——–

If I was perfectly healthy, I would lose, 

Freedom over some of, my time; I’d choose —

A job with variety, nice colleagues, laughing, 

Not working casually from home alone, aghast —

At how much harder it is with details, 

How precision is difficult, I rail —

Not often, but when I’m tired, frustrated, 

When my short term memory is flustered. 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

——

Yet I’m able to focus on writing —

My dream; building my talent’s exciting

I’m able to write, home or a coffee shop, 

Or to binge watch Netflix when I’m feeling, 

Energyless and downcast, mind reeling. 

Wishing I had my blessings and wasn’t ill, 

I desire my full health, yet I’m fulfilled. 

All I want, need, matters not –I’ve enough. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Bop – “Another Wonderland” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt. For the prompt I have chosen the theme “a trip behind the looking glass,” the male Z name “Zenith,” the female Z Name “Zephira,” the instrument of a “mandolin,” the scent of “vanilla,” and the verb “surrender.”  Also, I’m combining the Prompt with Grace from Poetic’s Pub #dVerse on boarders

———

Credit: Diogo Costta

——–

Mirror divides, boarders in this place from next,

She’s a second Alice, in blue, much perplexed. 

Her name, Zephira, born in distant lands. 

Fingers graze looking glass, ripples expand, 

Beyond here she knows lies Wonderland where —

She’ll meet talking creatures, rabbits, hares. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life. 

She’s read of Alice’s journey; though glass,

So she enters, vanilla an aroma that lasts; 

Invades her lungs as she breathes it in, 

This new reality, chance to explore freedom. 

Not to be forced to surrender to life’s —

Hypocrisy, marriage games played with spite. 

Alliance (loveless) to wealthy prospects, 

Zephira forgets, enticed with perspective. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life. 

Notes of the mandolin strummed lead her bare feet, 

To places wondrous where flowers her greet.  

Rising high, to top of mountain peeks, finds, 

Zenith, who’ll not control her, so she shines. 

Zephira surrenders to him, her choice glad, 

Holding hands in boarders of Wonderland. 

Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.