Fashion, Fiction, Free Verse, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Jolly Sailor Boys” #amwriting #movies #mermaids #poetry


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Photo Challenge. 

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Credit: Natalie Fedajeva

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I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea.

My sisters cried and sang for me;

But no siren’s song, 

Could sway those ‘Jolly Sailor Boys.’ 

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea. 

Said I had to walk and run, 

But my legs were far too weak.

I stumbled, I fell,

These legs are pure Hell;

Some incantations, my tail was gone.  

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea. 

My tears required for eternal life, 

They fell in floods and showers, 

I drowned them in my tears. 

Gaia’s answer from the sky, 

Her thoughts of ‘Jolly Sailor Boys.’ 

My teeth tainted razors, 

Ripping throats for dread,

Of what a Captain would do to me, 

A creature pure, unperverted, 

Mermaid tears were dredged. 

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea.

A siren’s ancient rage awoke, 

Became my new morality.  

And though I long for waves, 

My sisters who live below;  

I cannot even swim in the corner, 

The ocean’s rejected me.  

It seems to me, my tears did mix,  

In some fountain of ancient yore;

My only place to freely swim, 

So I swam all the more. 

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea, 

Now I bathe in this youthful fountain, 

No immortality I wanted;

Only my home in open seas. 

I wasn’t given a choice, 

Only vast eternity. 

Forever I was altered, 

And one by one they drank; 

Those ‘Jolly Sailor Boys’ dead fell, 

Into the sea, their bodies compelled. 

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from the sea

Brought me to gates of immortality,  

Trapped in a glass crate. 

And when some old spells, 

Had me walking regularly; 
I hummed my mother’s tune, 

Singing for the lost men, 

No more ‘Jolly Sailor Boys;’ 

For Gaia turned on them. 

I used to be a mermaid, 

They stole me from my sea

Though, I’m now no mermaid, 

I sing the same old tune, 

I’ll sing it long, in a siren’s song, 

Luring ‘Jolly Sailor Boys,’ 

That tore me from my sea; 

Because when I was once a mermaid, 

Those ‘Jolly Sailor Boys’ stole me. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Cleave Poem - right, left, and whole poem as 3 separate poems., Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Published Work, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Works Published, Writing

Published on wwww.spillwords.com: Poem – Cleave – ” Unwrapping Deceit” #poetry #amwriting #spillwords


Thanks  so much to SpillWords for publishing anotherof my poems. This is a Cleave poem and it’s redone as it was a poem from a few years ago. It’s called Unwrapping Deceit

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “Rise Again” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Also thank you to Kim of dVerse Poet’s Pub for the Quadrille prompt that must include the word pepper. 

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Credit: Footie and Foodie

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Sublime light, 

Peppers the sky.

Tangerine, Tyrian, 

Shading cotton. 

Dawn never swallowed, 

By absent void below. 

Cannot deny light streaming;

Sunlight scorches all. 

Peppered clouds fade, 

Azure erases night. 

Magnificent sunrise, 

Truthfully glorious. 

To those who wander, 

In the dark, 

The light has come,

There’s time, 

Perpetual and infinite. 

Begin again;

It’s never too late. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Quadrille- “Celestial Wings” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Thanks to MISH of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting this week’s #dVerse poetry prompt. The meaning of a particular sign or symbol. 


Credit: Axcy via Deviantart

Credit: Misha dVerse

 

Dawn’s effervescent brilliance,

Twilight’s ease to ink.

Stars, indulgent jewels,

Delicate glass traced.

Universe brimming,

Nebulas gleaming.

Celestial diamonds.

Drifting where signs,

Vibrate without liberty.

Forget repression,

A soul weighted;

Ethereal form found.

Torn Chinese lanterns,

Flight imminent.

No more signs,

Imprisonment or labor.

Be done,

So I can glide,

Fingers stroking,

Celestial wings humming.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Event, Free Verse, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem: Free Verse – In Memory of Evelyn #amwriting #poetry #elegy


Credit: Amanda Eifert
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A few months ago a dear friend passed away at 98 years old. She was a grandma, my great godmother, and in these last few years, a genuine friend. I miss her very much and writing her letters to mail with a poem or small story. It was our thing and I visited her as much as I was able. The last time I saw Evelyn we visited a few hours in her room. Then,  I was leaving and I couldn’t get out the door to reach the elevators. Finally, I got to the elevators went out the front time and stopped. 

I looked back at the wonderful care facility she’d been staying in these past three years. She was in her own home until she was 95. I had this strange feeling that I woldn’t see her again. I gazed back deciding all I could do was hope that in a month or two, she would still be alive and well. I do wish one more visit might have been possible. 

She was a wonderful, outgoing, and opinionated person. She demonstrated great care with people and her hospitality is/was famous. She even drove big trucks and was a mechanic in her day besides working at the Woodwards Department store for many years. For much her life, she was a single mother. Evelyn had many talents, her cooking, her unpredictability, and a spirit that kept on shining and pushing through life’s miseries. 

R.I.P Evelyn. I’ve been trying to finish this last poem for you for a few months.  It’s taken me awhile to get right! I’m so happy you are with our Heavenly Father and no longer suffering in any way. 

——–

A monument falls, crumbles, 

Although, she was strong. 

An impenetrable force, 

A spit-fire, a trail blazer. 

You can press your hands against thick steel, rock, or concrete, 

Wonder how such monuments are designed, 

Buildings of beauty, fortified through time;

How could they fall? 

Then you realize that soft skin isn’t stone, 

And a woman isn’t a superhero. 

When you gaze into the past, into beloved photographs, 

You see how smooth marble crinkles, 

As fine lines, directions on a map. 

The most elegant calligraphy, 

Words muted in the unforgiving sun. 

And photographs appear in memories, 

The warming light of conversation, 

Over hearth: satisfying food and laughter. 

Yet, still I attempted to see how her puckered lips,

Were once plump, young, and beguiling.

Long gone are her cherubic child’s lips, 

Nearly a century ago. 

And flawless cream skin is marked, 

Lines settled in, can be followed, 

A pattern of an Autumn leaf. 

No monument left to be seen, no eyes sparkling, 

With a smile uniquely hers, 

Never to be repeated;

Only in whispers of genealogy. 

A monument stood and —

She was significant. 

Someone who was seen and not afraid to be, 

A grandma who paraded around, 

 In forty two pairs of shoes — probably more. 

Her body could be strengthened with steel, 

Knees and hips better off with fabrication; 

The real ones worn out. 

Do stone monuments feel the pain of lost children? 

Of polio’s grasp, sucking the life out of a small boy.

Of a little girl who passed away a whisper. 

And of one child who survived, 

A reader, a teacher, a traveller, a builder. 

One who is imperfectly perfect as her.

My godfather with his wife, 

My godmother, both I adore.

Yet, the stubborn cheerfulness, 

Of this monument lives on in her family, 

In her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, 

And beloved relatives and friends;

Partners who marked her life, always leaving early. 

Sisters and brothers, marrying others becoming new brothers and sisters, 

How she adored and missed all them all, 

Passing away before she could blink.

For the most part, she was unsurpassed in years, 

She mourned her family and friends gone first, 

But reunites with them now.

And when she fell, the monument’s pieces scattered, 

Although all feels lost,

She needed her relief in heaven. 

And no one ever thinks that day will come, 

Until it crashes upon those left behind. 

Monuments fall, it happens every minute of every day, 

For every type of personality, 

To each person someday;

Special and authentically themselves. 

It’s okay to morn the monument’s empty place, 

To hunger for her caring advice, 

Her kind words. 

The silence is hard, her not being, 

In her home or in her room.

Now she’s aged, is dust of the earth, 

She is the ideal of herself, the creator’s perfection. 

Her life was imperfect, as we all are, 

It was shadowed by pain and misery; 

Yet her optimism always pulled her through it. 

Remembering her and taking comfort within, 

Her greetings to all those she meets again. 

The suffering and sorrow has ended, so do not cry your tears. 

For every monument is eclipsed, 

Heaven’s radiant light filters into the cracks, 

Rebuilds the rubble. 

Her figure of faith and grace. 

The love she had, that does not die, 

But multiplies in eternity, 

Waiting for her family someday. 

And for her her dear friends. 

 When we arrive, 

She’ll wonder what took us so long. 

Offering a piece of pie, uncooked fresh blueberries in a crust, 

With soft dollops of whipped cream. 

Her timeless love in cooking, baking, hospitality, 

Everyone was always welcome, 

If you weren’t, she’d tell you so. 

True monuments may appear hard and resilient, 

Underneath they are as the rest of us, 

They are frail and human. 

Time will catch up with everyone, 

And we pray we can meet our deaths, 

Mansions prepared in the sky. 

God the only monument, 

 Not our crumbled lives. 

————

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Free Verse, Friday Music Prompt, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Music Prompt #6: Poem – Free Verse – “Not My Defeat” #amwriting #musiccprompt #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Friday Music Prompt. This week’s song is “The Cave” by Mumford & Sons. 

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Credit: Rosemary Valadon

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“The Cave” – Mumford & Sons

—–

Your broken walk, your deceptive talk, 

You meat-eater, man-eater,

Frigid walls of your heart echo without beat. 

Cowardly harlot of bitter teeth,

Take all your bites, 

Leave the bones picked clean.

Starving the peasants,

In your shallow retreat. 

Malice, miscalculations, 

Your sins they visit your neighbours. 

The harvest is barren,

No fruit bursts eaten. 

Devouring the land,

You think no one knows,

But I know your shame is complete. 

And for some odd reason,

I pity the weak.

I pity your barren soul attacking, 

Then, retreating.

I’ll not be the swimmer,

Drowned by your weighted pulls, 

Clawing acrylic fingers. 

——-

So I will hold on to hope, 

No noose will scrap your delicate throat. 

I’ll find strength in pain, 

I will change my ways. 

My name will be no whisper,

You will not be my defeat. 

——-

My faults, my fears,

Pummeling my face.

But I am numb, 

I weather the war. 

The suffering you’ve caused, 

Tears droplets from heaven. 

You are not forgiven,

You cannot make me deaf, 

I see all your faults and all your fears,

You cannot mask wretchedness, 

Not change until it’s admitted. 

——-

So I will hold on hope, 

No noose will scrape your delicate throat.

I’ll find strength in pain,

I will change my ways.

My name will be no whisper,

You will not be my defeat. 

——

I’ll invade the darkest cave,

Find your hiding place. 

There’s no safety in your chambers, 

Come out walking on your hands.

Do you comprehend,

The nature of dependence

When you see the Creator’s plans

The makers hands? 

So much mightier than your, 

Waifish fingers wringing. 

Crawl and then arise,

I’ll ignore your Siren’s call,

Your voice a hollow sound,

Wounds my ears. 

Aches my heart, 

Heart of diamond rock.

Freedom’s a melody that calls to me,

A treble cliff in the sky, 

Floating music notes that speak of remorse. 

Your siren’s lure,

Has been escaped. 

The magician knows, 

Reality’s illusions. 

——

So I will hold on hope,

No noose will scrape your delicate throat.

I’ll find strength in pain,

I will change my ways. 

My name will be no whisper,

You will not be my defeat.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Event, Flash Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesdays: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Living Small Dreams” #100WordWednesdays #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting this week’s #100WordWednesdays.

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Credit: Jessie Williams Via Unsplash

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Deep night and the darkness should seem mean, 

But in day time light exposes, reveals. 

The tranquil night holds me and conceals, 

I’m finding that black pitch, it redeems.

Souls in the day ashamed of life’s greeds, 

Broken, lost, but I’m more than what I seem. 

I’m like you, I have fond hopes and wild dreams.

More basic, I just want to have life’s needs. 

Water, food, health insurance, no delusions. 

Meds so I’m like you, not fearing night screams, 

Not having nightmares on cold streets mean. 

A homeless woman, battered, unseemly, 

Wishing for small things, a roof and hygiene. 

Wishing you’d help, want out of here, achieving —

Life where I don’t struggle but live small dreams. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Food/Recipes, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesdays: Poem – Quadrille – “False Eden” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesdays #flashfiction 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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Eden fed us, 

Juicy tomatoes, 

Dripping down cheeks. 

Sweet aubergine onions, 

Avocados verdant, 

Soft melting glories. 

Plethora of fruits, 

Crisp vegetables, 

Burgeoning. 

Flourish of nature,

Ancestoral heritage. 

Our Eden desired, 

Banquet addicting, 

As Greek Lotus flowers. 

Utopia negated, 

Parody, Pandamonium. 

Ripest and best, 

We couldn’t have, 

Bellies growling, 

Hunger forever, 

Cursed, 

Never sated, 

Never full. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: Ruthless #amwriting #flashfiction #chess 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

———

“I’ve learned some interesting things about chess lately,” Karley said. 

Tyler smirked and made his first move, the frosted glass pawn advanced, “What did you learn?” 

“Well, way back when there was no Queen. Beside the King was an Advisor.” 

“That Advisor must have had a lot of power if in chess he could move any direction on the board, diagonal or straight. Why did the Advisor become a Queen?” 

Karley grinned, “Well, for one, Queen Elizabeth I. But around her time and after, there were many powerful Queens. The Advisor becoming Queen was meant to please Queens, rulers who weren’t male.” 

“Do you think Queens in the monarchy were as ruthless as Kings?” Tyler asked watching Karley bring out her Bishop. 

“Of course. Queen Elizabeth I had no trouble executing those who opposed her. She also never married. I think power was her raison d’être,” Karley said placing her finger on the clear glass Queen. 

“But yet the Queen still protects the king?” Tyler mused. 

“He doesn’t really get to move much, though, does he?” 

“No, just a space here and there.” 

“Checkmate,” Karley said. 

“What, what does that mean? How’d you do that so fast?” 

“It comes from Arabic and French. Literally, it means, ‘He is Dead’ or ‘The King is Dead.’ I did it so fast because I’m the Queen.”

” The Queen?” Tyler said confused. 

“Yes, we’re ruthless.” 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “A Reoccuring Dream” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last weekend’s writing prompt. From the choices of titles I have chosen a reaccuring dream. As well as the terms orchid, silk tearing, and inscrutable. I’m writing a poem so no names needed. 
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Credit: Katrina Plotnikova

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Every night,

Moon haunts and chills. 

Distant bleak dawn, 

Somehow farther away. 

Inscrutable world, 

Blackness vile trees;

Reaching gnarled hands, 

Enrapture me. 

Orchid without sun, 

Wilting in black void; 

Water suctioned, 

Stolen by the nymphs. 

Embraced in their disease, 

My fragile friends. 

Nestled in roots, 

Silk screaming torn

Each night, 

Deathly mythology, 

Reoccuring dream. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.