#OctPoWriMo Day 20/ 100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Breakfast in Bed” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesday

OctPoWriMo Day 20 Prompt is to write about desires and remembering. I’m combining this prompt with Bikurgurl’s #100WordWednesdsay prompt. 

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Credit: Unsplash

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Breakfast in bed. 

Waking up to —

Rays of light. 

Escaping dreams, 

Of catch and chase. 

Your tired eyes, 

Crinkling. 

A half grin on your —

Dimpled cheek. 

Stubble scratching as you —

Kiss my neck, 

Telling me to eat. 

Before devouring, 

My plate. 

Then lying beside me, 

I read a book, 

You’ve chosen.

Watching you sleep, 

With fondness, 

With love. 

Feeling our magnetism, 

Yet asleep, 

You’re only a small boy. 

Somehow, 

I’ve discovered, 

Little boys become men, 

But never grow up. 

———
©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

#OctPoWriMo Day 17/Music Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Light Up” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge

OctPoWriMo Day 17 has a prompt of writing only a 50 Word Poem. I’m combining the prompt with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Music Prompt on Snow Patrol’s  song “Run.”

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Credit: Alex Iby via Unsplash

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Snow Patrol – “Run”

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Light up light up, because you have a choice, 

Your the only thing right in my hopeless world. 

We’ll make it, so light up, light up, my dear. 

Louder, louder, running towards our lives, 

Even if you can’t speak, I’ll bring luminescence.

Light up, light up, have faith, have heart light up. 
——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo Day 16/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free Verse – “Me Too” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers

Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weavers prompt on circles or wheels in life. For OctPoWriMo Day 16 with a prompt on tears and fears.

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Carli Jeen via Unsplash

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I didn’t mean to break the teacup, 

I didn’t know it was so sacred. 

That porcelain so fine,

Meant to last generations, 

Passed down from mother —

To daughter. 

But Great Gran hated her China pattern, 

It wasn’t to her taste; 

It wasn’t used, 

At each meal for supper; 

It would’ve shattered,

Much sooner then. 

Great Gran knew like people, 

China is delicate, 

Especially if it’s shatters, 

And re-pieced. 

And you can’t possibly tell me, 

Fragility is permanent. 

That those who are broken, 

Remain that way, 

Once you break someone,
They’re never whole again;
They’ll heal and they’ll form, 

White scars gleaming.

But you cannot make anew,

What must be glued together;

Fragment by fragment. 

You can’t expect it to maintain, 

Indelible strength.

You don’t know what defines beauty, 

True beauty is brokenness. 

That those not in their entirety,

Are destined to chip and crack. 

Perhaps their outer designs and artistry,

Masks their flaws. 

But fault lines are visible, 

Places one could dig deep, 

Exploiting pains throbbing echo, 

Across generations, 

And unwanted China. 

You’d think we’d be afraid of shattering,

We’re all terrified until we find,

Someone to help us, 

Someone who doesn’t see the cracks. 

Love blinds us in many ways,

Some that hurt, 

Some that heal and bind wounds. 

It’s a cycle, a circle, 

Despair and rapture, 

Too much or too little.

And I think Great Gran, 

Would’ve smiled, 

Seeing your beloved teacup scatter; 

It’s just a cup, 

One she despised. 

For she wanted a reality for us,

Beyond teacups, of lady’s serving tea;

She didn’t want our suffrage,

Our call to feminism,

To remain at the price,

Of “me too,” where —

Every woman,

Has had a close call,

Not one she wanted; 

A narrow escape,

Or a constant nightmare, 

Where pleas meant nothing.

“Me too,” she would say, 

Staring with disgust, 

At a patterned teacup, 

China gifted from the husband,

Who perpetually, 

Reminded her of wifely duties, 

With or without, 

Her blessing or consent. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 10/ Sunday Writing Prompt: Free Verse – “Equisite Possibilities” #amwriting #poetry

OctPoWriMo Day 10 has a theme Prompt about control and power in a positive sense, more like empowerment. I’m combining this prompt with the Sunday Writing Prompt of September 24, 2017 by Scribblersdip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. 

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Credit: Scribblersdip MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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It’s wonderment, 

This feeling, racing through, 

My veins, 

Blood pulsing back to limbs;

An exquisite kind of power, 

Empowerment —

With pain. 

I’m all the better —

For it; 

Fighting, struggling,

Achieving aspirations. 

We soon recognize, 

Key differences, 

Between fantasy,

And reality. 

Which dreams are reasonable, 

Or will never be;

We can find strength, 

When failing;

Learning always occurs. 

What hurts the most,

Makes us humble, 

And those who stumble, 

In clouds need —

Realize their talents.

For we can succeed,

Beyond the pain,

Discovering our capabilities, 

A feeling that’s exquisite, 

Addictive endorphins; 

In knowing your rare talents. 

To change your life, 

In a moment’s 

glimmer; 

Tracing the lines, 

Destiny’s gifted. 
——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 8/Sunday Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Through Hope” #poetry #amwriting

Thanks to Scribblersdip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting her collage Prompt with a Sylvia Plath quote, from October 1, 2017. Also today’s OctPoWriMo Day 8 poem is on the prompt of how do you know. 

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Credit: ScribblersDip – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Self discovery questions, 

How do we know, 

What we know? 

How do we find out? 

How do you describe the feeling, 

Of something intangible? 

If someone can’t, 

See the invisible, 

Having faith, or hope of —

All things we know,

That aren’t tactile, visual, 

Or auditory, 

If we’re but certain of the sparks —
In our brains, 

Is attraction or love real? 

Is faith and belief for sure? 

We must sail beyond scientific evidence, 

Beyond the research, the data. 

Believe fairytales and find our —

Joie-de-vivre.

Abstract shocks —

Of beauty and faith, 

Filling in holes with — 

Puzzle pieces. 

We’ll never prove all, 

It’s a choice to decide —

What we are not sure about. 

To be certain of, 

What we don’t see; 

That’s how we know, 

What we know, 

Through hope. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 2 – Poem: Free Verse – “Of Terror & The Dying” #amwriting #poetry #yegstrong #vegasshooting

Welcome to OctPoWrMo Day 2 . I’ll be going back to Day 1. But today’s prompt was writing what we must. And this is what resulted, sorry to begin with the topic isn’t light. 

It’s inspired by two events the Las Vegas Shooting and terrorist events in Alberta, Canada. 

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Credit: Ian Dooley via Unsplash

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I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot. 

I wish you didn’t feel the need, 

To take others with you to the grave. 

I wish you knew your pain, 

Was a problem that could’ve been helped, 

If wish you had only asked. 

I wish you weren’t indoctrinated

That morals halted your, 

Urge to kill and wound hundreds. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

I wish that you’d stopped yourself. 

Thought of the consequences, 

I wish you’d had empathy. 

Realized everyone feels pain as you did, 

That all people have things in their life, 

That wound and maim them, 

Throughout life’s winding road; 

We all feel internal pain, brokenness sometimes. 

But others chose better coping methods, 

Not to go about their wicked way, 

Taking global humanity to their knees. 

*****
I wish you didn’t kill, 

I wish you didn’t shoot. 

I wish you didn’t choose chaos, 

That you chose understanding —

Not violence. 

I wish you knew all the family’s hurting, 

How your pain became more than your victims, 

More than the wounded and the dead. 

I wish you knew how you maimed everyone —

On scene, through the online world. 

How guns are so destructive, 

When they’re attained so easily to murder. 

That blood flows, when gunshot wounds, 

Cause suffering. 

That men and women are lying dead, 

Having lost their lives too early. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

Because other people will emulate you. 

They will think your selfish choice, 

Is the right path for them too. 

I hate that you had to take, 

So many others with you. 

That you didn’t comprehend, 

The sanctity of life. 

It’s ever so valuable, beyond twisted beliefs, 

Your inner turmoil — whatever it was, 

More than the false reasons, 

You believed gave your actions merit.  

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you would shoot, 

I wish a place of celebration, 

A place of respite and vacation, 

Did not become a mass murdering location; 

But it did, all because of you. 

I hate that you can’t hear, 

The moans of the people you hurt. 

That you can’t look them in the eye, 

And see the their tears, their horror. 

I hate that you don’t see, 

Children who’ve lost parents. 

I hate that you did not realize, 

Your actions harmed and injured many. 

It makes me sick that you were okay, 

With this awful outcome, 

Of being a grim reaper. 

I hate that you probably, 

Wouldn’t have cared, 

Even if your cowardly death, 

Hadn’t worked. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill,

I wish you wouldn’t shoot. 

That the pandemonium and suffering, 

Your victims felt and discovered, 

Is something you didn’t experience on earth. 

I’m so angry that men like you, 

Choose weapons too available, to harm others. 

I’m so angry you ruined so many lives, 

I’m so angry you made a place, 

That once felt safe, 

Into a terrifying war zone. 

I’m so angry that the country, 

You caused your mayhem in, 

Has far too many gun related deaths. 

And I don’t know how to stop men like you, 

How a right to bear arms, 

Oversteps someone else’s right to live,

I can’t comprehend; 

But I heard the screams, the peppering of bullets, 

And it makes me want to cry. 

So upset you were okay with, 

The consequences of a heartless choice. 

That your inner demons, 

Got the best of you, 

In such a malevolent way.  

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t stab. 

I watched a terrorist ram a policemen’s car, 

Saw the policeman soar into the air, 

But he hadn’t any wings, 

For he was merely human. 

I watched you stab him too many times, 

And he was only doing his job. 

While another mad man, 

Ran down others. 

Tried to hurt them too.

And I wish you wouldn’t slice, 

Let blood trickle and flow. 

I wish you wouldn’t use a truck, 

As a weapon to injure, cause pain. 

But I cannot see into your mind, 

And I don’t know that anyone, 

Could have changed all your minds.

All I know is you all didn’t listen, 

To the conscience inside your head. 

All I know is your method of damage, 

Was a choice to do evil. 

*****

I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

That you’d dealt with your own turmoil, 

In a vastly improved method. 

I know that many people think, 

All people are generally good. 

But few realize being a good is a choice;

We’re not made that way, 

We learn to be good people. 

And too many choose to twist what’s good. 

And commit acts that are selfish and evil.

To many acts of terror, 

By lone men or terrorists. 

Too many opportunities, 

With access to weapons, 

Knives and guns, 

Defend your family as you must, 

But make it harder, 

So random men can’t do their evil,

Wound hundreds with bullets, 

In blood drenched mass murder. 

I wish you wouldn’t choose to kill, 

So we don’t hear the screams, the suffering, the dying, 

So the images don’t haunt us. 

Because it’s sickening that ever day people, 

Who appear like me you and me, 

Have a monster residing within them, 

Have made the choice to murder.

*****
I wish they wouldn’t kill, 

I wish they wouldn’t shoot, 

But I can’t see what was inside their minds. 

Because they looked like everyone else, 

Not a demon, a Lord Voldemort, or a Freddy Kruger. 

All I can send is my prayers to the broken, 

Those mourning and terrified. 

All I know is that some people choose, 

To be good people, 

And I have faith in God and them. 

All I know is that in the end, 

God will give every person justice, 

Justice that is eternal and right. 

And that someday on earth, 

We must learn to forgive, 

Not to become monsters, 

So we don’t commit terrifying evil too. 

*****

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – “It’s a Fact of Life” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW September 5, 2017. 

Excuse the length. I saw the photograph and it fit my poem well. Since I’m still two weeks behind I don’t know that it matters 🙂 

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Credit: Artycaptures.wordpress.com

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When I visit here, 

It’s a fact of life. 

Blood drawn with tiny needles.

Some days they sting, 

Stringing out two seconds. 

Other days, the needle doesn’t register. 

It was a fact of life,

I had to visit here each week,

For the first six months. 

Then, every other week, 

Now each month the rest of my life. 

It’s a fact of life, 

So I don’t pay much attention. 

Facing away when the needle grazes, 

The same ‘good’ vein. 

Blueish-purple in my left arm, 

Silver-violet threads of blood vessels. 

Some months these needles bruise, 

Leave my skin raw and red; 

But If I’ve someone skilled,

There’s a slight indentation. 

Each month —

Babies crying concertos. 

An ominous feeling in the air. 

They’ve no choice —

But to know sharp pain. 

A poke stinging eternities of fire, 

For a wink in time. 

Wailing and —

The waiting room patients’ sigh. 

Then silence follows, 

The miniature massacre. 

Everyone checking, rechecking watches, 

Pulling out phones. 

Waiting for that sickening needle, 

Shuffling in seats,

Legs crossed and uncrossed. 

Glossy magazine pages turned, 

With frequent frustration. 

Toddlers running,

Mothers trying to calm them, 

Hushing their lively squeaks. 

I’m used to having blood drawn, 
Turning my head, 

Focusing on some object, 

Or a distant thought. 

There’s persistent pain as the needle pulls, 
My blood into the tube. 

Six to nine tubes today, 

Blood annexed for annual work. 

These tests burn —

Worse than the tattoo artist’s etching. 

Sketching out the black lines, 

Worse than her needle, 

Grazing repeatedly, 

Skin with vibrant colours. 

Back and forth movements, 
Calming and hushing,

Knowing what to expect and where. 

Conversation, music soothing, 

Then, the artist is done. 

Her needles leaving, 

A work of art behind. 

But the blood test needles ache worse. 

Similar to the last flu shot,

Some years not felt at all.

Other years a poke that —

Throbs all day. 

Despite praying the pharmacist,

Will slide the needle in,

Not deliver a death blow. 

Droplets of bright blood plop, 

To the stark white floor. 

She laughs, this never happens. 

Her mouth turns downward, 

Because you grimace, 

Squish your eyes shut counting the seconds;

Until the hurt dulls. 

She wonders why you wince, 

Why you’re so sensitive.

Says the swelling will fade, 

You’ll live, 

It’s a fact of life. 

It’s a matter of proper training, 

Slipping any needle in gently. 

Not jabbing and mincing, 

A persons veins or muscles. 

Yet still, a fact of life. 
But I remember being six and crying,

Fighting my mother, 

She was angry. 

Because I saw the needle, 

And refused. 

Today, the blood test needles are thinner. 

Adults can ignore them, right? 

Grit their teeth while the bloods, 

Ripped away, into a tube. 

It’s a fact of life. 

That some things are sharper and dig holes deeper, 

Than blood tests, flu shots, or tattoos. 

There is greater pain flowing from our insides,

If only the hurt could be drawn out as blood. 

If happiness, no worries, and no obligations —

Was all that remained behind. 

If only —

The tattoo artists colours, 

Garunteed you with fantastic health. 

And flu shots didn’t speak of fragility; 

Only the best humors in our blood. 

Gossamer strings supporting dreams. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Super Women” #poetry #amwriting #taleweavers #dVerse

Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver Prompt #135 in Princess Charming, a female heroine saving Prince Charming. Also, thanks to Grace of Poet’s Pub for hosting open link night. 

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Credit: Google for Reuse

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They say that, 

Real heros have capes, tights;

Uniforms and Bat lights. 
They shoot webs, 
Like spiders but from, 

Their palms. 

Flying and leaping, 

Over tall buildings. 

Their technology is —

Top of the line. 

They’re stoic, tough, 

Bantering, 

Male bonding and showmanship.

Strong shields guard,  

Robatic armour too. 

Glowing hearts of uranium, 

And flying suits. 

Hands pulsing lasors. 

With green hoods, 

Piercing arrows. 

Strength that’s incalculable. 

They’re ages old, 

Hundreds or Thousands. 

There human or from, 

Other dimensions, worlds. 

Becoming angry, 

Mean and green. 
Are blinded but powerful. 

Yet few will notice, 

Female superheroes, 

Their tough outer layers. 
They’ve a solid insistence, 

For the good of mankind. 

They sacrifice as a —

Black Widow or a mutant, 

Causing storms. 

The Mockingbird or a Scarlet Witch.

The Wolverine’s friend, Rogue. 

Women know, 

How being gentle, 

Is as mighty as Thor’s hammer. 

How sensitivity with honed, 

Physical skills, 

Has an authentic glory. 

Not understanding, 

Why men keep warring. 

Even though —

They know they must. 

So, they do too, 

Wonder Womans and —  

Super girls, 

Their skirts shorter. 

Slipping into —

Dark corners, 

To hide their tears;

Heroic tears 

As in a man’s world —

Most men don’t recognize, 

The first Wonder Woman, 

In their life, 

Gave birth to them. 

Nurtured them, 

Their superpowers hidden, 

To be the best — 

Moms. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Published Poem: Free Verse – Spillwords.com – “I’ll Fly Away, Oh, Glory” #published #audio #poetry #amwriting

Thanks to the ever gracious http://www.spillwords.com for publishing my new poem called “I’ll Fly Away, Oh, Glory.” The chorus lines are borrowed from the song “Fly Away” for by Gillian Welch and sung by Allison Kraus on the Oh Brother, Where Art Though? movie soundtrack. It’s an awesome movie too! 

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Credit: Fernando Brasil via Unsplash

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Sing me a Melody” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #poetry

Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday’s on August 16, 2017. Poem for Oneta Hayes of the blog: Sweet Aroma. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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Sing me a melody, 

Write me a song.

Songs of celestial glory. 

Of love that’s deep sweet. 

Save me from the dark, 

Inner demons disguised. 

Write for me, 

Crystal clear notes,

Ones angels simply respire. 

Sing me a melody, 

Calm and serene. 

Of the cereulan blue sky, 

Of hope in eternal life, 

And time past misery. 

Sing notes cascading, 

Sung lentement with —

Unbending trust; 

That those in “[D]arkness, 

Have seen a Great Light.” 

Sing me a melody, 

Tear drops on cheeks. 

Of joy, deliverance —

Of liberty, and grace. 

Sing harmoniously, 

Or in a caphella. 

With light’s pure —

Luminescent brilliance —

Never snuffing out. 

Sing me a melody, 

As light as air that trills. 

Glimmering with sunbeams, 

Ringing with care for hope. 

Simg of vivacity, 

Surpassing the dark of night. 

Sing me a melody, 

Of healing that restores. 

Sing songs of bravery, 

Of endurance. 

Songs overcoming shadows, 

And landing in the dawn.

Sing me a melody, 

Bring me sweet relief. 

Among beauteous architecture, 

For all those times gone by. 

Sing me a melody;

Surrounded by the skills, 

Of artists and writers 

So profound there work, 

Sings me alive. 

Sing me a melody, 

For all I wish for is peace. 

In sleep to hear, 

Sonorous songs. 

Transcendent, complex, 

Yet, utterly simple as —

Those words that say, 

“Be still.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.