#NaPoWriMo Day 15: Poem – “Errant Dukes” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 15, the prompt is:


“Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own dramatic monologue. It doesn’t have to be quite as serious as Browning or Shakespeare, of course, but try to create a sort of specific voice or character that can act as the “speaker. . .”


Kind of just used Browning’s poem for this, and ignored most of the monologue bit. “My Last Duchess,” by Robert Browning.


Credit: Fine Art America

Browning’s last Duchess, a smile illuminates well,

Her cheerful words, her eyes glimmer bright, but —

Most would think, the duke at her offed; she fell —

From grace, honour tainted in death for but,

Smiling, cheeks roses sweet blooms praised.

Eyes lustrous, though she reviles his lust —

For an heir, for her each breath, so she gazed.

Drowning in the time others braved, didn’t steal.

Short death revealed a pale Duchess life-raised.

Who rolled eyes at Duke’s pleas; he gasped, blood congealed.

Poison breeds poison, a last Duchess seethed.

His fortune, grins meet; two last Duchess‘ breathe.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#NaPoWriMo Day 13: Poem – Free Verse – “It is Said – Hope” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 13, the prompt is:


“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about something mysterious and spooky! Your poem could be about something that is mysterious and spooky in a bad way (like a witch), or mysterious and spooky in a good way. . .”


Credit: Ron Smith via Unsplash.


No ghosts or goblins,

No rattled breath wheezing.

No spirits haunting from crimson murder houses,

No cursed black cats yowling; only memories arising.

People forgotten, ones I shouldn’t forget,

Faces and moments, but life’s not the kindest,

Then, sometimes it’s roses, inhaled intoxication.

Sometimes it’s gentle waves and childhood carousels; finely carved horses, lively tunes.

Vivid and perceptive, ice-crystal memories,

Riding in a car down the road, breeze blowing hair back, sunglasses and red Polk-a-dot scarf.

Then, the day ends and mist enshrouds these golden-hours,

Seeming ghosts, as ever present’s failure you can’t escape.

Good-times as mint-chip ice cream from a farm, rich and intoxicating,

You could live forever on these fumes –but the seconds keep ticking.

And once you had a goal, talent, imagination, and purpose,

Now the blurry fog of all-hallows-eve sneaks in, and you’re exhausted.

Your form in the mirror, not transparent, but a wisp of your true self,

What you strive for, as you cringe at more closed doors, more ‘no’s.’

And, perhaps, the scariest truth isn’t the monsters who creep or scream,

But the visage of yourself on a rough road you never pictured.

In a life you’re still trying to master, and will only leave twisted,

But, perhaps that’s everyone’s truth, and maybe it’s your outlook?

Maybe carousel music, and butter-salt popcorn is still a possibility?

If only for a nano-second, to have peace and security; utter joy.

To flourish and be better than those memories and faces, gone with the sunrise,

To rest in bed, not holding your breath by a graveyard.

For, no matter the circumstance, there’s always, it is said –hope.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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


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


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


Credit: Victor Freitas via Unsplash


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.


©️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.”


Credit: Ben White via Unsplash.


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?


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/Saturday Mix: “We’re Done” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NELNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge and Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday mix on the theme of onomatopoeia and the three words rustle, thud, and hoot.


Credit: Google

Our balance as love-birds is precarious. We’re alike yet, so different. Holding our Adho Mukha Vrksasana‘ handstands, eyes closed; our breath mingling. It’s a habit of ours, mutual meditation of bodies and minds. We breathe deep, yet struggle to hold our pose.

A rushing sensation floods my brain. My blood pumps downward and dizziness threatens.

You groan. “Hold it five more minutes.”

I say nothing. You’re too close, I need distance. I’m sick of this arrangement. You take flight far from me; there’s never any communication, until you’re home. It’s as if I don’t exist for you until there’s no one else.

My muscles relax and I flex my feet, rolling my body through my spine, then my hips, until I’m in table top, and then, sitting cross legged. You’ve noticed nothing. Do you ever? I shove your side. Your spindle-legs flail in the air; you can’t right yourself. Thud!

“What the hell.” You glare and examine the scratches on your body.

I shrug. “Too much. I can’t keep this up.”

“Huh?”

“Everything.” My lungs ache; I feel caged. I want to scream.

“What’s wrong with you?” You cock your head and study me, hands on your knees. Your beady eyes send nervous chills.

“Her, all the hers. Cassandras and Stephanies. Kassies and Ashleys.”

“You’re the only Claire.”

I stand. The sun’s hot on my arms as I yank on yoga pants. Crisp spring leaves rustle above me in the river valley along with the some hooting bird. The breeze quickens, and I shiver, stretching high into mountain pose.

I peer at him, as he considers me. “I think I’m tired of peacocks like you. I don’t need your strutting or the women. The never knowing where you are, or if you care.”

You frown, run your hands through your hair, while your toes dig into the grass. “What are you talking about?”

“I need to concentrate on other things, not where or who you’re leaving here for next; the never knowing if you’ll return.” I turn, shoving my feet into pink Tom’s. My breath eases. I’m relieved that I said it, finally.

“Claire, stay. Please.” You twist your hippy-beard and your beady eyes beg.

I close mine and sigh. ” I can’t; no more.” You reach for your water bottle, gulp it before slamming it against a tree. Twigs crack, the bottle dents.

You swear, but don’t follow me as I hike back to the car. When I no longer see you, my body quivers, wracked with sobs. With each step I rid myself of your poison.

A few minutes later I rub my eyes with my hoodie sleeve. I don’t care that they’re pink and swollen.

That’s when it hits me –the silence of no drama, no worry weighing my entire being down as stones. I let the silence permeate me; a peace I haven’t experienced in years crashes over me. We’re done. My lips turn upwards and I smile. I haven’t done that in years either.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: “Tucked Near” #amwritingpoetry #3LineTales (x2)


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Nick Fewings via Unsplash.


I’m down-trodden, weakling child;

Until head eases,

Lethargic fog clears; you’re near.

Days are dim, dead dreary,

Dickenasian smog dour.

Gloom plucking my heart’s curves.

***

Yet, within darkness rustles notes,

Silver breezes chime,

Your words are balmy bliss.

*****

As Elijah cowering, cave hiding,

Whisper wind Holy,

Your presence revered; I’m safe.

*****

Calm cooling waters, drench coal —

Stricken sadness; lips —

On my forehead so dear.

*****

Lungs filled with tar-blackness,

Eucalyptus-oxygen cures.

Pain collapses tucked near you.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/ Music Challenge: Poem — Italian Sonnet – “Complete” #photochallenge #musicchallenge #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge. Thanks also to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge & the song “Broken” by LovelytheBand.


Credit: Origin Eight

We’re not all whole, our lives stretch uncontrolled,

Not by forces we know or can pchange,

We’ll shuffle our decks try to rearrange;

But, the weight of our burdens are sins untold.

Perhaps, life traps us; we’re always out-sold.

Pain tears, love’s truth, my face in your hands,

Beaming eyes, loving me broken and damned.

Endeared to my loneliness, pain rife –grave.

Life isn’t love poems, no ballads of song;

Only together we heal scars, live on.

I’m tucked in your eyes, we’re lonely as one,

You’re tucked in my arms, we’re lonely souls wrung.

We’re jagged dark lines become wholesome, sweet,

We’re finding our pieces; somehow complete.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday: Fiction – Keep Me #amwriting #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.


Credit: Bikurgurl

Our hidden place, a hollow in rustled leaves, tangled roots, as the river meanders close. I inhale verdant greenery and twigs crunch underfoot, as we sit on tree stumps near the shore.

Some occasions, the river trickles and torrents. At times, it’s poured buckets, and the banks pass eerie, too close to our feet. Sometimes it’s a kiss on our runners as we wade.

In the gleaming sun, the dimple of your left cheek lifts. Your grey-blue eyes sparkle; my hands clench as we banter. They curl around bark, roughness masking my wish to touch your hair — a hint of gray you deny. Your laughter resonates, and we quip as usual. I ruin my white Adidas twirling them in dirt. As the river, your stories flow; but, you’re to far — and to near all at once.

I peer up, nip my lip. “Keep me.” Two words implored.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday’s: Fiction – Star Gazing #amwritingfiction #100WordWednesdays


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays


Credit: Unsplash.com — Ian Parker

The driver had spun off the road decades ago and the grass climbed the old Ford’s wheels as each rainfall it grew like vines to the window sills in the cow’s pasture. The current farmer, not able to haul the truck from his fields, began to mow around it with respect for its rusted history; the story was, witnesses 50-years ago, didn’t see the driver leave. Upon examining the wreck they’d been shocked to see the driver’s seat empty, and now and then, the farmer’s daughter watched the stars from the front seat: she swore a young man in suspenders peered at the sky beside her, his hand grazing hers.


©️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.


Credit: Darryl Brian via Unsplash.


Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga


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.

*****

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.