Free Verse – Mandibelle16

Photo Challenge: Poem — Free Verse “Sky-Waters” #amwritingpoetry #MLMM

Thanks to NEKNEERAJ for hosting photo challenge.

Credit: Google

Sapphire bubbles float in the sky,

Dreamland ships are at port; the clouds laced with gold.

We’re journeying where I cannot know, to that unknown somewhere.

It might be difficult but there’s healing in these waters.

Davey Jones can’t escape his wretched locker,

And the seas are clear, crystal, and diamond.

And up we float from ocean to sky,

No lightening here, only the suns wayward blaze.

And breezes blow us away from the frothing,

Creatures yanking us below to perish.

Each day is fraught with the difficulty, but only a few with great pain,

And we learn to climb the mast, to let fly the sails too.

Maybe we’ll surprise the moon, let the light beam a tad longer.

Keep the darkness from falling, and the stillness of ice-cold waves —

Lovely the dawn with its orange pale-blue glow,

The waters of dew and the waves of the sun;

The storm might’ve wrecked us, but we’ll travel on.

We’ll traverse until the ship divides into whirlpools,

Or into green brilliance of atmospheric northern lit skys.

For now we ride sapphire wings shoot enemies with gold canons,

Giant fishes and vulture, both gather teeth gnashing all ’round.

Somedays grim frowns, soar backs weigh us down–

But so much learning can be absorbed in the sky-waters of morn.

Marmalade sky’s or savage seas.

It’s okay to be drowsy in sunrise,

The red horrors of morn fade, and the day somehow —

Builds endurance and progress,

Possibility, even if it’s minute.

A ray of hope jumping from skyline to shore.

Bringing tranquility though they’re be dim sights ahead,

And the black holes of brokenness.

But oh, never mind fear in the sky-waters —

For dawns brilliance is a mere moment;

But, our captain He keeps us,

In the gold-touched cloud atmosphere or watery deep;

In faithful hearts and prayer we discover profound relief.

Poem: Free Verse — “Learning and Dreams” #amwritingpoetry

Sometimes certain words fade to silence,

It’s a battle to complete each task, each day.

There are mornings I almost weep, but I grapple against each storm;

Somedays mean from morn to night exhaustion quivers,

My legs shake and I’m too tired to run –too agitated to sit;

Though you might think I’ve done so little.

And, thoughts and plans leave me pondering all night;

Tossing and turning in the blankets grasp.

But other days I rise, and I’m alive with sunshine;

The learning process of endurance is half the battle.

I try to succeed, hope most days they’re moments that to other people matter.

I’m prepared for hard work, as long as my body’s alert

And if I’m here now in the present; I must be in the right place for now —

For however long I am.

Here to learn, blossom, grunt, and groan against all challenges.

Although, certain days my eyes are sand-weighted,

Aching for tomorrow’s responsibility, a notion of grande design;

I’m surviving today, that’s something.

Existing in an extended vignette, eyes not glazing left alone.

And somehow unseen footpaths meander to freedom, faith for tomorrow:

Then, he grabbed my shaking hands anyways,

Before I tumbled, and off the ledge we rode.

Tucked in goose feathers, silken fibres —

Into the midnight sky we flew.

To chase the dreams of starlight’s cosmic kiss;

Then wake flourishing on a comets tail.

Poem: Free Verse – “Melinda’s Battle.” #amwritingpoetry

Written awhile back and not entirely sure what I meant, but have edited and see what you think?

Credit: Xuan Nyguyen via Unsplash.

Peering above the clouds,

Her mane in chopped disarray;

Melinda takes a vow, as her eyes blink glassy grey.

The eagles circle round,

There caws thrill in the dawn.

And all across the ground,

Her body is adorned, trails Velveteen-rouge satin.

While the faeries sparkle, and their bright visions abound.

Melinda marches towards the sun scorching,

A peasant swathed in morning dew.

Satin trickling behind her feet, she’s drawn —

Down the steps wearing broken-in boots;

Her path unending in the circle of lust.

She didn’t choose a tyrants will,

She wasn’t given hers; and her terrifying experiences mean, Melinda will forever distrust.

Still, she keeps marching on,

A soldier in sequinned glory.

A dagger hid in her starched gown;

Her long sable locks adorned with roses.

And she can’t trust herself, her mind is a concrete cage;

She’s twisted, rusted —her silk gown small protection from menacing beasts;

A prowling force she battles with and makes livid.

But, Melinda never quits, she chooses not to give-in.

The beast lets up, but she knows she can’t an eternity win;

While her skin is marbled beauty, she’s haunted by grim creatures;

Everyday is a battle and she’s quaking,

Such carnage, a war not her choice.

There’s slaughter in her soul unmanaged, leaving her visage ruined;

Ruined as rouge lipstick dripping as blood,

Melinda nearly chokes slashed by the monster beside and the monster inside her.

Both destroy her, both leave her exhausted;

Her glassy grey eyes drop, and only tears froth.

Her pain too vivid, unconcealed, a dagger in her skirt no protection.

She’s worked years to climb a valley;

Then, life tossed her careening down a gorge.

Now, her words only linger in sadness;

She yearns to curse, throw glass —

She can’t think, she’s lost and never safe.

She’s become mere prey —fighting tears, fears, demons always.

Never mind tyrants who snuff out bursts of salvation’s light;

She’s caught in a nightmare, her mind astray;

A moment she fears will lock hopes door,

Then forever, melt the key, and she’ll never escape the circle;

But she might, for some wars are only figurative,

And she’s made of more steel than a carnivores tyrant and menacing literature.

Poem: Free Verse – “Stone White Witch” #amwritingpoetry

It’s the brokenness you cannot see,

The trail of hearts behind me.

Or, perhaps it’s fairer to say, a trail of lust turned cold;

It burns bright gold, a beach and a boat, the sun on my skin, Jackie-O frames.

There’s laughter, conversations, playful negotiations made.

Walls tumble, a connection is raised, a pale thread thin; Hope for the more.

Yet, there is no skin, no breath on lips, no warmth;

I can’t feel you, it’s imagination — your absence, your glowing presence snuffed.

And, I’m not one to lead on; I can’t give what you want —

For you can never hold my hand, and love me ‘here.’

Nor take all your obligations; bear my burdens with me — I’ll bear yours.

I wanted to converge, but you’ve needs, they crush me — until the real me erodes;

I’m no longer your woman, I’m a picture, an image — crushed until she bleeds.

A splattered painting, impressionism ruined; canvas punched in.

Throw scarlet paint over me, my details, my person — she aches;

A meaningless chit, sinful — not whole, but she’s learned she needs to say when;

Her body bends, but you’re not here; we’re both lost.

You forgot about me, while I was trying to satisfy our yearning.

Brokenness and trust, I gave you half my secrets;

There’s too many miles to share the rest;

You so so real, but I’d rather live in harsh reality, than be a siren of our misery.

And in the end I know, you’ll prosper; you’ll not miss me long — though you said so.

I’m still caught in these silken webs, little threads, they never form a tapestry;

They only snap until there’s nothing; I’m stone and I can’t return to life.

And worst of all you’re decent, you could’ve been just right;

But it’s the end and I’m my own white-witch;

Stone is our relationship.

Poem: Free Verse – “Forever Hope” #amwritingpoetry #mandibelle16 #mandibellesthoughts

Hey all! It’s been a long time, and I’m sorry to have been away so long. I’ve spent the last month recovering in hospital from a severe depressive episode. There’s still a ways to go to improve my stamina, but the hardest part is done. At least my diagnosis is known forsure — I suffer from Clinical Depression where I can become so depressed I have a psychotic episode. But, with new medication and the help of modern ECT (which I highly recommend), I’m looking forward to continuing through life and improving my little apartment and finding another part-time job. For now I’m at my parents working on healing a little still. Here is a poem I started a month ago, before the episode got bad, finished today.

Credit: Shutterstock

The writer takes a pause,

The world it spun, titled without cause.

Forgotten nights and fierce dramas played;

Yet, I stay; I pause — only for a breathe of time.

A moment to confess;

Assured that darkness can never win the day.

Although the sun is abeam and we drag our paint brushes through clean–

It’s a stronger light than you could imagine.

Eternal, brilliant, fluorescent, suffering a just fierce burst;

— Than the glow of morning wins adream.

So, that in the black pitch of fright we see;

Darkness is short, never forever.

Forever is but a moment if you realize —

Dim dankness will cease, and the night’s short minutes are minuscule gleaming beams of white.

They block out the pitch of fright;

Time that pauses pain, such gusts of cruelty cannot prevail;

Thus, we continue on —

And in life we’ve hope, despite death shrouds.

Those pollutant clouds that choke — only sweet clean air has us afloat.

Here shrill cobalt birdies fly and never die;

No lost trips in wild night, no wild wild frights or shadow‘s clawing.

Nothing but our vivid faith for tomorrow’s war won;

And in reality I find(perhaps), a better life aglow.

I hold on for brilliant light beyond the dusk, and harrowed breadth of night.

This is no nightmare or sordid dream, so hang on —

A better life bends t’ward us; And courage is a radiant resplendent breath awake.

The creators Mercy and passion still live —

If only we forget not to hope.

For a better life, for better seconds to each other give;

Forgive and hang-on-tight to the bold flashes of a sunny, light blue Friday dawn.

The battle has faded; now forever altered we move on.

Soldiers dragging our feet as swishes of paint,

Each step t’ward life’s resilience.

Photo Challenge: Poem — Free Verse — “Reverence and Instinct” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge

Credit: NEKNEERAJ of http://www.mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com

When the dust clears and you can see through the shadows,

When the deep dark ends, and you might be okay.

You might move forward, but you’re fragile as tissue;

When you find your voice, but you also lose it’s tune.

When you’re there to listen, but don’t hear solid proof,

When the dust clears, the rubble remains trapped between a rock face.

You can creak forward when you’re on your knees,

Praying it’s not one good day, but a second, with real-life dreams —

A crystallization of thought.

When wounds shame, and then you somehow claw forward;

Remove self-focus look to others; is it His will, or my will?

Somedays the weight is heavy, the yoke chokes,

Then, He lifts my broken spirit,

Pets a stray cat peaking for hope,

Knowing I could swallow a butterfly whole and choke,

Or experience misspoken glory, and let it rest exposed.

A pendulum of breath and instinct,

Cross-eyed reverence, nature’s ravenous pull;

Pounce or be still?

Poem: Free Verse — “How To Be A Bird” #amwritingpoetry

Credit: Roland Denes via Unsplash.

The wings of summer come flying soft,

Puffs of feathers fluffed towards the sky;

I do not know, or not know not how,

Such warbling birds, with limps can fly.

I don’t know why they limp as babes,

Tossed from the nest, before the cat eats;

Whiskers dripping in homemade cream,

Somehow at times we fly as much as we need,

Up into the sky, to breathe;

But, sometimes we are stones, we sink to the floor.

And the world around us explodes,

Fur, yowls, claws as life takes another bite;

What goes on in the mind, is a curious thing.

Pathways misfiring, and there’s no end of ammo to spark,

Images, fear, flatness, some kind of pain,

Mental, a darkness physical that grabs at the mind;

And birds might fly for a limited time —

But all of us fall, at the end of he day.

And sleep cannot always solve,

Sometimes, light hurts your eyes, as if the world’s a giant;

Ray exposing you for every sin, and vice, every deed ever done wrong —

Every lie, and every past sin, no matter that you’ve turned;

I’ve no idea how life can revive, when I’ve already asked for so much.

But there are no words,when you’ve been robbed,

When there’s hurt but you can’t find the cause.

When part of you is broken,

And you can’t fuse the cracks;

And the world spins, and flows,

Dizzy from the ride, you always feel as if you’ll puke your insides.

When the past repeats, and you think you’ve healed,

When the cat gets it’s cream, and only feathers remain;

When your eyes can’t see, or the mind can’t connect,

What then, each path, the doorway shuts,

Then what? Positivity aside —

Then, somehow a glimmer reveals;

New wings rebuilt, fragile –no one knows why,

But they’re a gift, and such mercy means you can become,

That a future has possibility,

And warbling birds trill a tune,

No matter the storms or trials.

The cat will have to wait,

This bird’s wings flap for miles.

NaPoWriMo Day 29: Free Verse — “Healing Splinters”’#amwritingpoetry

For NaNoWriMo Day 29, Used my own prompt again.

Credit: Marinka Vinkman via Unsplash.

A perfect pane of glass, and all seen is crystal clear,

A rock chip fractured the perfection, and something broken won’t ever be the same.

The fracture lines still show, and slivered splinters ache.

Tiny diamonds to pull out; you can’t remove the pain yourself.

So, you sit and someone you don’t know, pokes and prods; it looks easy to remove,

The shard, the sliver, the hurt.

But, they dig around and hum a tune, as if these moments are nothing;

Small agony, plastic smiles in the end — as if a person’S brushed past.

Then, all of the paint, and the thickening mediums flood the canvas sky.

The masterpiece peeling paint, blotched lines, trailing wet drips, paths down a wall;

A damp foggy space and you keep cutting yourself, unable to see ten-steps ahead;

Day-by-day, you learn to let your wounds be, to reform pottery takes time — to heal with precious metal.

What’s the price, what’s the damage?What’s the favor or end game; what are the lies?

But then everyone’s suffering slivers, there’s glass on every road;

Popped tires, cars skid, windshields stunned; windows battered.

Eyes close, too many slivers slice, each somedays,

What’s the method to remove them without prodding half-healed scars?

Change a thoughtless habit, change the world; change only need be small.

No one asks for slivers, embedded glass in their hand, scar tissue that makes tiny wounds bleed;

When any human, no matter their background cries, mercy should be given without fail;

Care and concern without a price as sometimes there’s help — but then there’s help —

Precarious day’s where both you and I’ve done untold damage — but I’m learning we must repair wounds despite.

Tiny or gaping, the hurt matters not when it can be healed — be it with ease or struggle.

#NaPoWriMo Day 24/ Poem — Free Verse — “Bird Dreams” #amwritingpoetry

For NaPoWriMo Day 24: my own prompt again.

Credit: Coral Birds Pinterest

There was a bird coral flushed, torn in the Red Sea waves,

And she floated in the healing, until her wings were drenched in mineral salts.

She preened on a rock, wings coated in salt-dust;

But, one day a storm raged and she was drenched in the mud.

The healing earth, and brokenness beneath meant nothing.

Rain washed, and she spread her plush coral feathers — lunged for the sky;

The salt and mud weighed, not much had fallen-smooth away.

But, she flew anyways — some birds fly despite;

They rise, even if you hold them down;

If you clip their wings, their feathers still grow rapid.

If you hear not a squawk, don’t be surprised if you do — she talks, no moment is right, but there’s reasons beneath silence.

It takes time to soar weighted by sludge, to balance weights on your wings;

But she’s flying and she’s okay, she might send a squawk your way —

Depends if you’re a bird person, or weighted to cement delusions.

She might squawk, or she might fly onto the tangerine sunset,

Where the saltless waters are clean, and her wingspan for a moment’s graceful.

#NaPoWriMo Day 26: “Growing Aches” #amwritingpoetry

For NaPoWriMo Day 26, my own poem from a few weeks back.

Credit: Bruce Mars via Unsplash.

I am weakest (so you say),

That is when your strength defines me.

When I’m meekest and I ache and hurt,

When everyday problems snowball, regular sickness amplifies.

When I was used to doing whatever,

More than I’ve been in a long time ever.

Now, I fall into the pit,

Can’t reach out, the water swallows.

Double-hurt, such a good day then —

Did I overdo it?

I tried, to make a goal; to do just that.

It’s hot, hazy, beautiful outside,

But, the sunshine’s too bright,

Cars revving, pumping music; my ears pulse, some pain.

Am I an older person, in a 30-some body?

I try to be positive, today I cannot.

But I suppose, I must take time to heal,

That little flares, must be sealed to avoid a violent storm.

The process slow and agonizing, but I wait for tomorrow’s fun.

I wait, and I know not for what —

To be at that place where I can be independent,

Help more people and forget the ache — rocky roads tripping, ankle snapping,

Yesterday was as lost as today.

Now, I’m upset that I couldn’t do what I set out to do.

Oh, the plans of mice and men they say.

They’re rather meaningless in the scheme of things;

When health is mostly everything, because it connects to so much more;

And what was once given, is now, lost.

But, I will smile anyways;

I will push beyond these cracks and snarls in the dark.

I’ll find the suns jewels even if it’s an eternity spent aching to smile,

To return to a world of vivacious delight, despite.

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