#NaPoWriMo Day 8: Poem – Free Verse – “Ambivalent Heart” #amwritingpoetry

For NaPoWriMo Day 8 , I wrote my own poem unrelated to the prompt.

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“And I can’t be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.” – J.D. Salinger

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Credit: Victor Freitas via Unsplash

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Thoughts twist, wind, the fog is dense, and the staccato in my head throbs;

I wish I could explain it, but I can’t.

That moment where my eyes glaze and nothing in me knows how to fight;

When there’s nothing in me, I’m a sack of flour and I’ve folded.

As wheat in the grainery refined to dust,

Those moments I’ve nothing, and I slump, a leaf crumpled.

Fight or flight escape, collapse is imminent; the walls of Jericho tremble.

A smile, a sigh — what do I want? What do I do? What to say?

What roads we wander without knowing why, stumbling back and forth.

Then, my heart pumps energy bolts, lightening,

A fist squeezes my heart rigid, eyes of doe flutter.

Headlights incoming, is it enough?

You owe me nothing, we’ve two diverse paths,

Yet, ‘blue blue eyes’ catch me, and somewhere inside flutters;

Aching of past mistakes, selfish liars.

Scared I’ll never make it, waiting for clear words;

I don’t know what to say.

Ask me to let you know.

Ask, talk more, do something; I’m walled in place, and I can’t move.

I hate unsaid words, but some regrets strangle worse.

Never ever again, he broke me worst;

Never ever, because his eyes still haunt with that youthful glaze.

But, I go about my business and somewhere inside I glow;

A radiance lifts sedating fog, and sometimes I’m so alive,

It’s amazing, celestial enlightenment.

Sometimes, I’m so exhausted I can’t think beyond headaches;

My thoughts unravel and I’m nothing.

Am I never enough?

But sometimes that’s the problem, I can’t read brail or sign language, but I hum,

Lifted into the breeze as rice paper, far away —

Ask for help, leap!

Don’t resign to tears, not when you’ve the choice not to be crushed;

Go about the day, forget the fray.

‘Blue blue eyes –‘

Tonight I’ll sleep, twist the sheets, awake eyes puffed; then, sweetness infuses.

Tomorrow’s another day, and ‘blue blue eyes’ linger with an ethereal hue.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 6: Poem – Blitz – “Something” #amwritingpoetry

For NaPoWriMo Day 6 the prompt is:

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Today’s video is this TED talk on “Why People Need Poetry.” Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of the possible. What does that mean? Today, write a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.

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Credit: Thought Catalog via Unsplash.

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What if the ever became all,

And you kept going still?

Still, you kept rising with the tide

Still, you kept writing and always had time

Time to live, strive, and heal,

Time to believe the words were real.

Real as any you’d ever heard,

Real as the sun blazing, moon a stage-light dreamed,

Dreamed, imagined, written, and spoken

Dreamed, perceived, with conditions to succeed

Succeed beyond wild illusion and the path of misery

Succeed beyond hypocrisy, a losing of yourself

Yourself climbs and soars

Yourself leaps, stomach drops, but you’re gliding

Gliding as the parasailer, survivor despite crashing

Gliding because rising is impossible without falling

Falling isn’t reason to let go

Falling isn’t reason to curl into a ball, weep

Weep for poetry’s drudgery, being mislead

Weep for the things you cannot change

Change despite the hurt, muscles yearning to stretch

Change take your life-bricks — build

Build dreams, light as air-particle hopes

Build your foundations stable as might

Might that lives inside because you’ll rebuild despite

Might that thrives, you’re free to write and be alive

Alive to heal, flourish, learn

Alive to be whatever you perceive

Perceive that age is not the truth of it

Perceive the truth is to age with grace; laugh at heart

Hearts beat strong, thump with reflection

Hearts collide and ache, the wise know well

Well that here as we are, we can only stumble

Well that the man upstairs knows it all

All with clarity, in someways, we have it all —

All the time to jot and dabble

Dabble to compose words that unravel

Dabble to sculpt, build up acrylic colors

Colors that blur, chroma creates illusory delight

Colors create the scenery, the backdrop

Backdrop to meander the verdant Amazon

Backdrop to shiver in the bright of Alaska’s midnight

Midnight is a place in life and in writing

Midnight is peace as words flow off your tongue

Tongue be silent, hands click faster, feather light

Tongue murmur the words as they pass onto screen, paper

Paper trails of dust to starlight trails, black holes of ice

Paper trails that mock, have us stumble

Ice melts, we’ve everything in our grasp

Stumble because other days, we’ve nothing — that’s something too.

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©️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.”

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Credit: Ben White via Unsplash.

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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?

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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

Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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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.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Saturday Mix: Poem – “Goddess Pup of War” #SaturdayMix #amwritingpoetry

Thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting #SaturdayMix. Her theme today is Personification.

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Credit: Action Vance via Unsplash.

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They told me it was easy — that a wolf was born to run,

Never once did they talk about innocence, a scattering of light shunned.

When all the darkness mustered, and drove forth as Roman armies.

They told me I had to do it, but my frail hands shook.

My eyes peeped through my lashes, venom running through my veins.

For no one told me about the spilling,

The loss of life and gore; men now faceless, missing limbs.

Life left them in a quickening, and I peeked through the brambles;

Thorns stabbed into my paws, the moon haunted by shadows as if it too, hid.

I wandered around the copse, limbs prickling and tongue mute.

An anthemyst sky drew forth night, a small end to battle; and to camp for today they returned.

No side was bad, no side was good; each believed their god gave glory;

But I was pup who lay on crumpled leaves, moaning in the blood-scented air.

I was but an observer and the scenes were obtrusive; never failed to numb me.

They overcame my sleep, no place for pups as down to sleep.

And in the night I heard them weep, beg for life and help;

For moms to hold them close, for lovers to sing one more note.

And the night was a cacophony, until death silenced some;

And others fell into fevered sleep.

Yet, the crimson morning came with an ominous bells knell; I failed to close my eyes all night.

The clashing of metal, the tangy smoke of guns,

Invaded my nightmares as the half-dead lay silent, if only to live through one more day.

And a tiny wolf crept forth, and through the carnage lunged.

She lengthened each foot and grew tall, silvery fur huge snow-white teeth clasped, titanium claws split bone.

And she knew in the end all had been lost, but she was born to run — to hunt;

She was the goddess of war, and hers was a warrior’s life or death to give.

It never mattered that through each year,

She was still a babe crying in the darkness numb, half-dead after battle.

Half-dead of heart to survive such gore; so, she let loose her demons,

And the fates chose the victors, if there ever are any?

She knew too well as cherub tears fell, nothing was just or fair in war — suffering was the only assurance.

Suffering and the fairy-man’s boat rowing, as if he had all time,

All the time in the world, because he did; and she howled as the dusk once again swept.

She lay down in the copse, a wolf pup again; goddess of war without a pack.

Lady whose job was to perpetually morn, to pick and choose, and forever feel the pain.

Knife and gun, nightmares and terrors, for peace was an infinity — the only dream she had.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Wraiths at the Window Dissapear” #anwritingpoetry #SundayWriting

Thanks to MindLoveMisery Menagerie for hosting #SundayWriting. The words I’m using is “Wraiths at the Window.” Thanks also to NELNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s photo challenge prompt.

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Credit: Unknown

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Wraiths of silver strings near,

Hearts of darkness, at the window pear.

I cannot undo what I have done; guilt of the self-shunned.

I cannot whisper truths of then; they say, “I serve myself and pain condone.”

Yet, I surge to live past window panes — clawed beasts;

For they’re as ghosts, nothing but wild make-belief.

But, closer still, they draw; arm hairs prickle at their spite.

They’re lifeless dream-frights, sick-faced skulls, madness without light.

But, I’m no wraith, evil-sworn in Hell’s pit trapped,

I’m a creature who’s not forsaken; who’s clasped tight —

In a greater being’s benevolence.

So, when I crumble to pieces as wraiths trail close,

I cling to silver sparks, to golden paths, summer sunlight bold.

I’m not afraid of monsters, their creep and slip-slime, shivers down my spine;

I’ve no fear of mystics, their pitiless swords, ropes of malice torn.

Here, daylight seeps through, dawn explodes peaches and cream;

Sky’s beam the beat of life, as powder-puff clouds float.

Scratching claws crunched, but the nightmares are past; they’re ripped from my heart with angel’s might.

For even in my dimmest hours, as one who carried a weighted ring,

I have my Sams, and they bolster me.

I have my white-wizard, omniscient one, and —

While they’re are times fear nips at skin or tears humiliate in dreams,

The brilliance of day reigns; I’m never lost to forever-demons.

The weight of my guilt’s revoked with sweet hope;

A blinding, piercing glimmer challenges each wraith of fright.

And I nudge open pale-eyes on icing-sugar beaches,

Denying dank souls who screeched in my ears, plucked at my soul;

I’m without the crushing weight of the world,

I’m enlightened, strolling through surf, gulls calling,

As chatters alight with gray-finned dolphins, porpoises too.

Beacons in my hour of need, gracing me homebound,

To where our greatest loves –they’re the only real,

No wraiths or spirits wandering, no ghosts —

Their time is ephemeral, without eternity, without Heaven’s bliss.

My time has only begun, & it’s sheen points towards the fantastic tomorrow;

Evil wraiths, dementor’s kiss–forever I resist and conquer.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt/ Music Challenge: Poem – “Never Forgotten Twilight Hours” #amwritingpoetry #musicchallenge #MLMM

Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing Prompt. For this week’s Prompt we had to choose 4 terms, and I chose the texture jagged, the occasion just because, the feeling expectancy, and the sound grinding. Thanks also to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Challenge using the A Star is Born’ song, “Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga.

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Credit: Darryl Brian via Unsplash.

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“Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga

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Hot red rock, stacked sediment,

A river ran through it grinding crimson, mango, snow-white gleaming;

The Arizona sky blends in painted fusion; you’re alight with night fire.

The scars on my arms lashed, from the welts of the past;

But you love me as gold, see there’s light inside.

I can’t find it, it hides; but your eyes peer through.

It hurts, a jagged line of bruises –I can’t read past the shadows of addiction in you.

A lifestyle that’s claimed you, makes a monster sometimes.

But, I’ll never forget those night’s when we were done strumming our melodies and dived.

I won’t forget those ethereal evenings, stars shooting into the bluish-blackness beyond; the blood moon rising against maroon midnight-blue.

And just because, I’ll remember us always; just because, I won’t forget your azure eyes.

Together we rhyme, croon the words as they form in our muddled minds,

Dream, as our skin brushes close, sweat drips, as the cliffs glow in layers, sediment crushed grande.

In Arizona we rise, together here — there’s no expectancy, no need to hurry, scurry in time.

We hope this occasion is better that the crimson and marmalade sky won’t stop glistening, as fireballs glint on.

We’re lovers in the night, sometimes were poets singing, delineating a phrase or line.

Sometimes we’re opposites screaming, and no words describe the knife slashing; the war wounds are mutual.

But just because I love you still; just because we’re each other’s glue, I’ll never forget these forever nights.

We attempt to rhyme, splintered sounds bite, but we keep writing our, hands entwined.

I don’t know who wrote our ambitious story, but I don’t want to be without your arms, your stardust eyes.

In the ink of night I sigh, as it doesn’t matter where you go, the part of me that’s you won’t die.

Just because, I’ll never forget the fire dancing in the twilight, the jagged edge of morning, ’cause I’ll never forget our time — just because.

You peer in my eyes, the whole world fades black, nothing is left slack, and we argue and snap.

But, I don’t want to be without your laugh-lined smile; I don’t want to be only a memory, beneath the sun-jewel morning.

I want to be forever, together no matter the time, don’t make me a memory — I’ll never forget these twilight hours we’ve espoused.

*****

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse — “A Land of Peace” #amwritingpoetry

Wrote this a few days back. Edited it this New Year’s Eve. Sorry, it couldn’t be happier, but I hope you perceive the wish for that which is peaceful.

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Credit: Seth Macey via Unsplash

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I hear the blunt of your hammer,

Your riffle as it clambers;

If only to block out the ruckus,

While I’m tucked in flannels.

The world spins and stammers,

Your barrel it twirls, the gun’s reloaded.

I’m a maid of ages,

So, bring home my man, prisoner of war.

Life in medicine-hands, he’s grave and damaged.

No one plans life’s intense dramas, when they’re a blood-bath.

Bullots locked and loaded,

Zipping through air in motion slowed, air ripples —

As a surgeons hands riddle, shells from a civilian caught fleeing —

From a soldier he knows not, from a war he caused not;

From a visage of war, he’s not committed to fighting.

So, bring home my man, he’s the prisoner wounded,

The civilian in shackles; although, you’d never recognize their weight.

He’s the media image — the child crying enamored —

Of a wrinkled photo, the last of his mother.

Or, a soldier’s son’s tears dripping rivers,

Afraid and stammering, the stream of saltwater.

His sister caught snitching, but a morsel to spit-out.

And they’re all dying in masses,

But we peeped through fire-ball wreckage,

Rusted 3rd-world problems to obscene to believe.

We couldn’t perceive a media of glorified killers; crosses blunt ashes.

Of people left bawling as the bugle was calling —

Oh, bring home my man,

He is lost in bombs crashing, the stitching of wounds,

Tumors, fractures, and a machine gun’s destruction;

Stomachs bloated hungering, and cataracts gleaming.

Smoke-ridden eyes granted sight, now horrified —

To realize their home’s a wasteland of dreams.

Oh, bring home my man, he’s lost and he’s broken.

The terrors too much, pain scarred soul-deep,

And his child is weeping, no control is frightening.

Oh, bring home my man from your war of terror ageless,

Be you pagan or Christian, Muslim, or Jewish;

You still war with Aries and feed Jupiter innocent flesh.

Oh, bring home my man, no more cause him anguish,

Not the dreams of a ‘silent night’ lost.

Not another year ridden with gun’s reloading,

Gun’s we’ve packed centuries,

To a place mermaids once swam.

The memories paper-bag brown, curled;

Worn like faded leather; a letter disintegrated.

A story once told,

Where three sisters met,

As poppy red blows in lands long forgotten.

1st world woes, claim to expose,

3rd worlds implode, and no one knows;

Root of the evil, that grows and grows.

So, carry home my man, let his feet not in Opium fields drag.

He’s healed your wounded, your dying;

Now he knows he must leave, lest forever he sleep;

Support his weight, his shoulders slumped —

With night terrors, violent streams of woe.

As the new year comes upon us,

Think not of war’s carnage, let all children —

Of every age in existence,

Live in a land of peace.

Never a gun’s bullets ricocheting;

Never a nightmare, but a life of opportunity;

A day without weeping, words tucked —

In the pocket of a heart that beats, not bleeds.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers/Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Stardust Love” #amwritingpoetry #TaleWeavers #PhotoChallenge

Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver’s on the concept of night or the evening. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge.

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Credit: WeHeartIt

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Starry night, veil across smooth skin.

The evening tide arrives,

Darkness rides on velvet wings of charcoal-black.

A midnight hour lit with dreams,

Stars that glisten and glitter;

The star of all stars shines truest.

Jewel of golden light, snarled in a crown of thorns.

Hope of tomorrow, every child, & every person passed;

For ages awaiting an infant mild.

Mirth in the twilight, the evening passes,

With brushes and paint,

A muse of mystery and dancing light, crosses the canvas of your skin.

A rare and glorious place,

Where painted medium engraves each curve.

The dip of your back, shoulder blades relaxed.

Breath respired as the paint dries; the lense snaps your beauty.

A Vangoghesque masterpiece, and the light of a brilliant star.

Our Christmas miracle in a moment,

For now, left adrift by the pendulum of time.

A lover’s dusk for —

I with my brushes and cherished paints;

You humming centuries old melodies.

A Holy night, Angels crying glory, as Three Kings journey.

Miracle in a stable; thus, miracles for mere humans.

They’re what we breathe and live,

Blessed in evening tide,

With stardust love;

Gloria Excelsis Deo.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#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.

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Credit: Paulo Brandao via Unsplash

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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.

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©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.