#OctPoWriMo Day 31/Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem — “Plain Sight” #amwritingpoetry #SundayWritingPrompt #MLMM


For OctPoWriMo Day 31 the Prompt is the word endless. I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt based on the Sylvia Plath letter quote: “I talk to God, but the sky is empty.” so glad to be done OctPoWriMo two-months later. It took awhile, but I’m happy it’s done in time for Christmas. Lol.


Credit: Paulo Brandao via Unsplash


Words in the tumbled breeze,

Chatter of birds in early light;

Blinding my ears to fright.

Intense azure glows, I cover my eyes;

It burns, it burns,

What a fright, what a fright.

Restless, my ears ringing as if I’ve spent all night,

With giant speakers, there jarring blare.

And oh, my eyes how they sting,

Such terrible light blinds me in fear.

How can such gleaming light be wonderful?

For me, it’s a curse.

No afternoon delight, but hellish nightmare.

The hammer’s swift; I the rock pit —

It’s pulsing, the rhythmic pain seething.

Lips moaning pleas,

Make it stop, but its unceasing.

Not after strong coffee as my stomach lurches,

Nor over toast I spit-out disgusted.

My skin, elephant tusks envy such paler.

No wine or liquor could cause,

A tinge so blue as the veins in my wrist.

Such hopelessness,

A putrid cycle of faithlessness.

Once I believed, now I am lost;

Lamb to the slaughter, must I too sputter?

Have my heart carved,

Gurgling water, blood in the tide.

But the tawny bird near my ear,

He flew inside my broken pane.

He cocks his stubborn head,

Eyes rapid; he mutters, words pained.

His left wing slops,

Tossed from the nest, now he rests near me.

I’ve not the heart to twist his neck,

Though his wing be his death.

But oh, he chirps, eyes rapid,

He sings despite his tepid clawed-steps.

Tiny talons gripping my pillow.

He sings, peers outside,

Aware he can’t fly;

We both can’t.

So, we stare in confusion,

Peering at each other, eye to eye.

Both defenselessness,

We know will soon be cut down.

Yet, while I groan, bird tweets,

The funniest chirps, as if conversing.

He’s livid until I arise, bring him a saucer;

Sups his water, munches sunflower seeds.

He try’s to flutter, my heart leaps —

He flails to the floor.

His eyes see cerulean horizons,

Not wretched revolt.

I’m mad at God,

He made the bird disabled.

But as I curse — bird’s tawny head shakes, beak twerps.

It occurs to me,

He sees more than ‘something’ out there.

If he can chatter at me unperturbed by my size,

Then, fling himself towards the sky —

Only to fall,

Perhaps than, faith can also fly again?

If God can mend my wounded heart,

With nails, grit embedded deep,

Can my feathered mate,

Have his wing set straight?

Perhaps, yes?

Then we can both soar,

And peer to the azure, the Heavens.

Recognize that this ‘something,’

Isn’t intangible, isn’t hiding,

It’s in plain sight,

Crystalline truth sudden,

In opulent morning breeze.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

#OctPoWriMo Day 25 – Poem – Free Verse – “The Door Swings Both Ways” #amwritingpoetry


For OctPoWriMo Day 25 the prompt is “the door goes both ways.”


Credit: Vibhav Satam via Unsplash.


The door swings both ways,

I can’t discern its turn;

Swoosh of air inviting,

The click of quiet closure;

Or, slammed with a clammer.

Turn of the key, of the screw —

As locks clink, slip into place.

The door swings both ways,

No one determines, what each door opening or closure means.

We never know,

That’s the problem.

One opens,

Another closes.

We bang on a door we were fervent to beg for.

We tilt our heads in wonder,

When another doorway path leads us yonder.

Into carmine fields of poppies,

Into the jingling of sleighs.

A whisper from a child,

Who bids us come this way;

That we’ve been missing a whole world,

And our eyes have finally

seen,

Cracked open, no longer flown wide-shut.

An azure-blue of ascending staircases with tired feet;

To more perilous doorways,

Some forever locked,

Some opened a sliver, as a test.

Some we must break down,

As with wild axes, we fight for another breath.

More doorways,

But oh how thankful we are,

That some of the deadliest doorways are caverns left for dead.

The door swings both ways.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 22: Poem – Free Verse – “More than Poetry” #amwritingpoetry


For OctPoWriMo Day 22 the prompt is betrayal.


Credit: Mark Zimmerman via Unsplash


It’s not betrayal is it?

Your visage, your sweet face?

Crinkled laugh lines with delicate hands you sew;

The quilter mending patients square by square.

It’s no lie is it?

Your eyes how they sparkle,

Crinkle at corners I caress.

It’s no lie is it?

Your fervent prayers to God, your blessings?

Tell me you’re for real.

Once too many times, the knife has slipped between my ribs —

I know your heart it’s battered too,

Betrayals slick slim choking your breath.

But, it’s okay, you and I can unfurl our wings together, and fly without feathers.

We’ve wings of greater substance.

Though scar tissue worsens each wound, we’ll strive on and on, and on.

So, please don’t snap me — or woe on you who would betray.

For now, night creatures chirp, rumple leaves beside our hiding place.

This Eden amidst midnight stars; morns unfolding rays —

You’re for real aren’t you?

Fingers trace your jaw, your shadow,

Absorb the sun heating your skin;

Later, the moon reflects within your inscrutable eyes.

And life is too raw and too real — a brokenness revealed.

So, please be for real, more than words; for people are not poetry.

Be more than verbal affluence,

Be the poem that’s twilight and sweet whispers true;

A place to rest even in struggle;

Let us not betray confidence, let us not scatter our love to the four winds’ turbulence.

Stay near, your breath warming mine,

Let’s tend our love, and be gentle amidst life’s destructive storms.

Let’s be more than poetry.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 23/Photo Challenge: Free Verse – “You Might” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 23 the Prompt is see me.


Today’s prompt is See Me. I love the simplicity and strength of this statement. What is it that you wish others knew about you? What would you want those in your closest relationships to acknowledge? What is your truth?


Credit: Michael Matkezo

You might see me,
You might not.
You might peer behind paintings,
Under the table,
Into the cavernous closet,
Darkness swiping with claws.
You might see me,
You might not.
You might have a sense of humor,
Drifting down the hallways,
Laughter trickling, a babbling brook,
A bridge that draws me closer.
You might see my bare face stained red with tears;
You might see me in classic makeup,
Or the hollowness under my eyes —
Too many endless nights settling.
You might experience the execution of words;
Cut ruthlessly unheard.
The ruins that form a masterpiece,
If only in my dreams.
You might see me, you might not,
As the tsunami crashes in,
A wall of glass, of water hovering.
A wooden doll who’s splintered,
As mere gossamer threads support.
You might see me, you might not.
All the foreign lands I’ve wandered,
With flashlight under the covers.
Reading contemporary romance and adventure;
Classic books scattered with historical texts,
Fashion magazines and journal articles.
The fine pull of modern literary works,
As they entice in ever-altering persuasion.
You might find Milton and Donne,
Next to Atticus or Lang Lev.
E. Hanson next to Hemingway and Frost.
You might see me, you might not.
Because, perhaps, the eye of hurricane,
Isn’t a disaster storming?
Perhaps, it’s a secret hideaway,
And suddenly, after everything,
After every step and stumble;
Clarity rings as bells.
And the water rushes in,
A ruthless baptism;
A tale told by survivors.
You might see me,
You might not.

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 19/Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Free Love” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 19, the prompt is “What Do You Want?” I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.


Credit: PrettyScary@DeviantArt

They say when you breath slow, head between your legs,
When your mind works out things,
Your lost words will flicker home.
You’ll not feel drained, the sky’ll end hailing;
You’ll soak up the rain, a starving tulip, not cowering.
There are ways to feed your soul, and feed mouths.
And you try to listen inside,
to the conscience that knows only His tones.
I have plans, great journeys ahead;
I plan for you to prosper and bloom despite your frail limbs.
Yet, I scramble; I’m turning up rocks as I limp;
Tilling this garden, as my hands bleed life.
Dirt acrid, stuck in my nails, tattooed on my skin,
An oder I’ll not forget —fresh, as the dew on the grass after the storm;
Nose-wrinkling pungent, life’s essence.
I peer into the vastness, to the valley where I beg to rest.
I’m tumbling with trepidation; I’m scared of unknown sensations.
I’m pushing against the grain — I’m not easily killed, defeated as weeds by chemicals and garden gloves.
Lie near me on the peppermint grass, stroke my hair as it floats ‘round my face;
Loose on the grass as whiskey, as in the pale chinook winds, we find peace and relax.
Lie beside me, for I am weary of fighting alone;
I don’t know how to carry your burdens — our burdens or mine.
My eyes slip closed and I sleep in Neverland,
Lost girl fierce, but never little.
Still, I’m the determined pink daisy as a-new-day’s sunlight feeds my soul;
So, nourish it well dear one, and for your love, don’t ask so much that I break.
Feed my soul, hear my prayers, Lord.
Sometimes I’m the wilting violets, the frost slips in as fingertips black pluck at my leaves, my frozen petals.
Feed my soul, and answer its song.
Have I chosen right?
Or, am I gliding towards a ledge,
More than hanging my toes over a bit;
Am I free falling towards darkness and sin?
Or, am I trying to trust, to hope, and to love?
A entrepreneur for authenticity and someone whose love sets us both free.
Oh Lord, am I free wheeling to death?
A cat who’s twitched too late before the coyotes growl at bay;
Before mistakes will cost me dear.
Yet, in the end, my love and I are asleep in the grass, Protect our small worlds,
I can’t find the answers and each day we struggle.

Hear our petitions when we forget, you carry us both when we stumble — even when we can neither find free love, but from you.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 17/Photo Challenge: Poem – “Lay Down Your Guns” #amwritingpoetry #PhotoChallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 17 the Prompt is Madness Reigns. I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Inspired by Joyrose’s piece It’s Not Rocket Science!


Credit: Art Universe @ Instagram

World builder, psycho destroyer

With your purple-pits for eyes,

You black-eyed raven with pitiless guise.

Hiding your intentions,

You cannot snatch them back — nevermore.

You are wicked madness in destruction,

Shedding humanity, no magic world-builder, but you could’ve been.

You could’ve been eloquence or passion,

Most of all you could’ve been sweet-grass alive.

There are a lot of should haves,

Could haves that might have been.

But it comes down to what is, what was —

A descent into wretched madness, no logic nor reason.

Reason so convoluted it reigns hellfire,

Bullets from a gun, shots ricochet, echo in the synagogue.

Flesh squelching, screams, oaths muttered, defiling God’s alter;

You reaped havoc, chaos unleashed.

You were meant to be loved, to persevere;

No to blame others — to forgive.

For we each share responsibility for what we’ve all done;

And we don’t always know the consequences,

How far reaching are actions ripple as stones tossed.

But there are times we’re cognizant,

And some of us, still, desire that the world burn.

Erupt into millions of Hanukkah flames,

The sacred hanukkiyah candles spilled — desolation.

Now we mourn your disaster intended,

Now we mourn children,

Now we mourn families.

You are chaos, pandemonium released.

You did not find absolution,

Only a cause you shouldn’t have killed for.

We all carry our burdens, rocks in our bellies.

We haul them around, as third-world children starving,

Infested with parasites, with death.

Now, the grieving are yoked in disbelief,

And you’re lost endless in the bleak.

No more guns and glory, no more madness;

Help those who need help find it —

Help them not into chaos descend.

Aid those on the edge,

Before off the canyon’s ledge they dive,

Boulders splintering life, bodies of tree husks;

Cut short with a whispered litany.

A Rabbi’s murmured blessings — some people’s last zenith;

Having only ‘just,’ enough time, before their candle flickers.

Rises with smoke, ashes, and incense;

This malice and hatred’s a repetitive cycle — ‘so,’ we beg:

Lay down your guns.

Lay down your guns.

Lay down your guns.


©️Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 10/Music Challenge: Poem — “Frigid Air” #amwritingpoetry #MusicChallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 10 the Prompt is dancing on air. I’m also combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge and the song, “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” sung by Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.


When love is going well, in those euphoric moments, it is like dancing on air. Everything feels good, the sun is bright in the sky without a cloud to rain on your mood. Whether it is hormone induced, something good happening in your life, or true love, tell us about a time when you were dancing on air.


Credit:


Diamonds Are A Girl’s Bestfriend” Sung by Marilyn Monroe

https://youtu.be/hEyWqVfY4vo


Mademoiselle lifts her feet,

Bending her toes, dancing on her toes.

She’s his ballerina enclosed,

By bars and the spaces in-between.

She keeps on acting,

She thought it was enough,

But the chasm between her and monsieur grows.

He’ll buy her obedience, but little does he know,

Diamonds are a girls best friend — not men.

She’s to practical to believe, his lips on her hand,

A kiss is divine, but it won’t pay her rent.

And between them builds an icy wall,

Women wrinkle, men become stuck,

They stop caring, not learning new ways.

All kinds of loves’ charms fade;

But Mademoiselle knows best.

She begs a diamond from her time love-spent,

Square or pear-drop,

Rounded or oval, they don’t alter shape;

She’s dancing on air, because she has it all.

Diamonds are mademoiselle’s best friend,

But ‘tween her in monsieur there’s only,

Frigid air.

The world freezes, and no one’s dancing;

Twirling in air, that’s for fake romances.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 5/Saturday Mix: Poem – Free Verse – “Cobbled Roads Denied“ #amwritingpoetry #SaturdayMix


For OctPoWriMo Day 5 the Prompt is based around the word denied. According to Merriam-Webster, “denied” has several meanings: 1. Declared untrue; 2. Refused to admit or acknowledge; 3. Gave a negative answer to, refused to grant, restrained from gratification of desires; 4. Refused to accept the existence, truth, or validity of.

Also combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘s Saturday Mix Prompt, using two sets of homophones: jewel – precious stone and joule – unit of measure, with grill – to sear or cook, and grille – an iron gate or door.


Credit: Adam Gong via Unsplash.

Denied the cobbled roads that lead, to where?

To lands I’ll never lay my eyes upon.

To hills I’ll never have the heart to climb.

Denied because I’m ripped apart inside

Tendrils and dust, ashes and rust;

What’s broken can it be fixed?

Laid across the grilles, tired of being grilled;

But each little chip, each fault line,

Means what once was ideal, will never be again.

Will never be perfect and new.

A jewel cracked, a diamond smashed;

No joules enough to fix the fractures.

Perhaps it’s age, or mere survival?

Taking a step back, finding space to breath.

It’s just that somethings shatter forever;

I haven’t figured out how to reconfigure diamond dust.

To follow those same trails,

And not break a little with each step forward.

I know forgiveness is a balm, a start,

I just wish it could forget and make anew,

Atoms combusted.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo 2018 Day 1/ Sunday Writing Prompt/ #PhotoChallenge: Poem – “Death’s Twilight” #amwritingpoetry


For OctPoWriMo Day 1 the theme is surrender. I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt on the poem, “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. Also, using a photo prompt from NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


Credit: Natalia Ruka

She rises, you think she’d shrink,

Lose her footing with knobby bones, bloody footprints;

But, she’s a miracle and survives despite —

The annihilation of her heart.

No surrender, no train cars full of the sick and dying;

No camps of death will kill her.

She won’t surrender, she’ll paint you a dream,

A masterpiece of despair and scribbled features.

A portrait or less, no seashell rocking shut;

She rasps, vapours of her lost innocence.

Herr who?

With battered purple sockets.

Herr who?

A dream or nightmare trawling.

I have no dreams of innocence, only a suffering spitefulness for your hate.

Words that shattered the cracked mirror,

Seventy times seven bad luck.

Herr who?

Miss Plath, your words are riddled traps.

Herr who?

She fakes death, blood and bone snapped;

Flesh from hands shredded.

Your terror camps and eyes of sunken sin,

Can’t make her alive, though she’s not yet, dead.

Be on guard for those caught in-between;

Those who aren’t afraid as the breath in their lungs rattles.

Beware of those who see death and leave life;

The exact meeting of one leaving the elevator, while the other travels home.

Beware of hair as hellfire, she the angel of death;

No surrender, for none was given her.

Beware her yawning grin,

And hollow eyes as she devours men like air;

Destiny with her twisted wings,

Her opalescent fluttering, a sheen that hides the bitter.

Her charcoal hands twitching as they sketch the twilight of death.


“Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath

*****

I have done it again.

One year in every ten

I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin

Bright as a Nazi lampshade,

My right foot

A paperweight,

My face a featureless, fine

Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin

O my enemy.

Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?

The sour breath

Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh

The grave cave ate will be

At home on me

And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.

What a trash

To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.

The peanut-crunching crowd

Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——

The big strip tease.

Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands

My knees.

I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.

The first time it happened I was ten.

It was an accident.

The second time I meant

To last it out and not come back at all.

I rocked shut

As a seashell.

They had to call and call

And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.

It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.

It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day

To the same place, the same face, the same brute

Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’

That knocks me out.

There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge

For the hearing of my heart——

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge

For a word or a touch

Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

So, so, Herr Doktor.

So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,

I am your valuable,

The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.

I turn and burn.

Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,

A wedding ring,

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “All of Eternity Lit” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: David Becker via Unsplash

All of the lights, those vast ships distant.

All of the lights, those mesmerizing jewels.

Shining orbs, dazzling stars,

Dust as gold left in a meteor shower.

All of the lights with infinite yearnings pulse;

With possibility, potential in a thousand galaxies.

Lying in grass sharp, sweet, succulent;

A cushion topped with flannel plush.

We lay entwined, watch the lights, the airplane’s beams;

The choppers blades swooping, pulsing red.

And a hawk’s eyes knife-like, caustic —

While cotton-mice speed ‘cross the field;

Scurrying — not to become a carnivore’s meal.

The sway of the grass lilting hums in evening breeze,

A tune of jabberwockies murmuring hushed.

Birds to long kept, so out of skyways they burst, rapid in flight.

So much light, so vast, yet around us —

The night swallows the bright.

Pitch-black skims past day with purple-charcoaled tar.

And ribbons of white dots, glistening glitter burst;

The serenity of celestial maps; the cosmology of stars, distant worlds.

Astrological divination; but yet here we are — and we stare in awe.

All of the lights, they gleam in your worn denim eyes,

Barely visible in shadows.

All of the lights, the fireworks live-wired in my chest;

They explode on my lips as we taste sparks together.

Our lips ignite — tornado-fires speed; they can’t be stopped.

But, eternal eulogies to the dim, it cannot conquer,

For true darkness never will defeat.

The light came first,

The light will outlast,

The light was and is,

Never can be not.

All of the lights, Heaven’s perennials,

Speeding cars on highways glisten.

The sheen of sweat, and the gleam of skin;

Eternity in moments forever lit.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.