Photo Challenge/Poet’s Pub: Poem – Quadrille – “Un-Muddle” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Photo Challenge. I’m combining with Whimsy Ghizmo’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub Quadrille challenge on the word muddle — to confuse.


Credit: Flora Borsi


“Bring Me To Life” by Evanescence


How you stare,

Inside my soul.

Nothingness overtakes,

My core.

Where’s my soul?

My will to heal?

My ill —

Pours out, revealed.

Lead me back,

No more self-scorn,

Self-inflicted demons;

Breathe your soul,

Into mine.

Relieve confusion;

Bring me to life.

Let me not —

Deteriorate.

Let my life,

Not be undone;

Radiate warmth,

Un-muddle me.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Threeline Tales/ Music Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Oddity Stilled”#amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge song, “Space Oddity” by David Bowie.


Credit: NASA via Unsplash


Ground Control isn’t —

Earth a brilliant blue?

Aloft in tin can,

I lived, but for what?

Stars flare, blind in space.

*****

Ground Control, it’s Tom,

Capsules shut, I guess I’m stuck.

Yes, the circuits dead,

The Moon’s nearer too;

Our atmosphere fades; I’m scared.

*****

Ground Control, my wife?

You convinced us astronauts could,

Defy space’s void.

But, there’s nothing to —

Do — weightless, adrift; I’m still.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 30/Photo Challenge: Free Verse – “A symphony Intrinsic” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge


For NaPoWriMo Day 30 is: ” to write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinatingfact. It could be an odd piece of history, an unusual bit of art trivia, or something just plain weird.” I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’sPhoto Challenge.


Credit: Nicolas Bruno


We didn’t have smartphones, flip-phones,

No second lines or iron rotary phones.

Just a ‘can’ to yell back and forth,

Every kid in every neighbourhood had one,

And gossip was damaging;

Persistently strangling its victims.

But, we had no internet or wifi, no dial-up modem,

We penned epics in burnt-sienna cursive.

Our handwriting perfection,

As the pages stretched for hours.

Your morada -inked letters rumpled in my hand,

Holding the ‘can’ to my ear,

As morse-code clicks bullets at pigeons.

And we drifted near drowning in our childhood pond,

Too many words said, too many left unsaid;

Too many deeds done, too many left undone.

I never dreamed we’d split;

That pliers and scissors could strip string and wire —

That alone we were too weak,

To go beyond what our fathers said,

And the fears our mothers chided.

I didn’t know what we had together existed

But then, it was gone.

The water rose higher,

Warm water crushing breath;

Until I snuck out at night if only to survive,

To repair the damage wrought.

I forgot about technology,

The meaning of symbols or alphabets.

I climbed over your window sill,

I woke you with all those words,

The phrases I couldn’t keep inside.

Languages long lost but to us —

Centuries of unexpressed thoughts.

I listened as your morada-handwriting,

Echoed in silver-glitter when you spoke.

A melody that flew as butterflies,

Mediterranean giants with cobalt, crystal wings.

It was eons until everything bled-out,

Then, we were silent.

Lying together, limbs, lips, and laughter,

Bodies loving.

Saying all other words with sensation.

As the sky became serene, and sunlight filtered in,

And you traced my lips in awe,

I trembled and nipped your thumb.

For once we perceived the best tool for understanding,

Was to speak in person;

To converse, cry, yell, and observe–

Each other’s quirks and emotions.

The subtle signs we once knew,

Of sensuous appeal sublime and expressive.

Of rose perfume and musty libraries;

Of summer’s swimming and sunscreen,

Grass sharp and tangy in its freshness.

Your lips as berries devoured,

As forever lengthened our bones,

Made are skin supple, curved and honed.

Your hands on five-o’clock’ shadowed cheeks;

Wistfulness and whispered prayers.

Sins of afternoons and mornings lost,

Of nights spent miserable and alone;

Because we did not sit face to face and talk.

Our greatest gift — our human bodies,

Machines of the grandest designer,

His ‘plans’ can’t be derived, copied or improved;

And all sense of confusion,

Streamed past as estuaries scurried into oceans;

Our pond overflows with fresh water.

Hands wrapped as ribbons, never letting go,

Hazel-eyes to azure knowing the way we are now, is much more —

We were never meant to be alone.

Forlorn in this age of deception,

Forlorn without guidance in the dim.

No ‘cans’ to listen or letters written,

We’re humans at time’s dawn,

Our voices a rhythm sanguine,

A symphony absorbed and intrinsic.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 29/Saturday Mix: Poem- Quadrille – “Apprehensions: Night Tears Through” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix


For NaPoWriMo Day 29 the prompt is: “to write a poem based on the Plath Poetry Project’s calendar. Simply pick a poem from the calendar, and then write a poem that responds or engages with your chosen Plath poem in some way.” I’m combining with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces and two sets of words suburb and city centre and repair and damage.


Credit: Maximo Valcarce via Unsplash


Plath Poetry Calendar: APPREHENSIONS

“There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself—

Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.

Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.

They are my medium.

The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.”


No walls to repair, or damage,

Creation’s infinite, sublime.

You tug at my heart —

Buds bursting,

Craving unknowns.

Amidst starlit skys.

Angels swimming,

Chiding indifference —

Knowing white walls,

Can’t entrap.

Not suburbsof children,

Or urbanspeakeasies,

Sparking, neglecting —

The sun’s dissolved,

Bleeding into pitch —

Light tears through.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 28/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Prose Poetry – “Wish You Were Here” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 28, the Prompt is: “to draft a prose poem in the form/style of a postcard.” Also, I’m combining prompts with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Prompt with same but different words. The words are: paint, release, fan, light, and clothes.


Credit: Any Maislon – Google


Dear L,

I’m off on a beach, the honey sand is hot beneath my feet. I’ve slathered in sunscreen every half-hour, but my arms are blushing-red. Finding a swimsuit or two here, that covers is difficult. The waves crash against the shore, but the rhythm is lulling.

I wish you were here, but I needed this time to do nothing, to think about nothing. I feel freed from so much confusion. Today, well this last week, I’ve come to the beach to read and lose myself within a pile of books. I even visited a used bookstore and left my tablet. It’s so hot I was afraid it might melt if in the brushed-orange sun.

This morning I wandered some of the boutiques and shops in this small beach town. It was so nice, many shops had air-conditioning. I’m waving my novel every-few minutes here, as the afternoon heat is intense. But I’ll walk back to my B&B soon to avoid the worst of the sun and apply Aloe Vera. Then, I’ll come back as the gleam of the sunsetting glows in the twilight sky.

We’ll talk soon, and I’ll mail another postcard. Really do wish you were here. You could use the break too.

Love,

A


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 27/ Music Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Maneater Now Yours” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 27 the Prompt is: “to pick a card (any card) from this online guide to the tarot, and then to write a poem inspired either by the card or by the images or ideas that are associated with it.” I’m combining this prompt with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge #25, “Man Eater,” sung by Nelly Furtado.

I’m way behind I know lol.


Credit: http://www.pinterest.com


“The sun shines in the zenith, and beneath is a great winged figure with arms extended, pouring down influences. In the foreground are two human figures, male and female, unveiled before each other, as if Adam and Eve when they first occupied the paradise of the earthly body. Behind the man is the Tree of Life, bearing twelve fruits, and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is behind the woman; the serpent is twining round it. The figures suggest youth, virginity, innocence and love before it is contaminated by gross material desire. This is in all simplicity the card of human love, here exhibited as part of the way, the truth and the life. It replaces, by recourse to first principles, the old card of marriage, which I have described previously, and the later follies which depicted man between vice and virtue. In a very high sense, the card is a mystery of the Covenant and Sabbath.

The suggestion in respect of the woman is that she signifies that attraction towards the sensitive life which carries within it the idea of the Fall of Man, but she is rather the working of a Secret Law of Providence than a willing and conscious temptress. It is through her imputed lapse that man shall arise ultimately, and only by her can he complete himself. The card is therefore in its way another intimation concerning the great mystery of womanhood. The old meanings fall to pieces of necessity with the old pictures, but even as interpretations of the latter, some of them were of the order of commonplace and others were false in symbolism.” — Sacred-Texts.com


Maneater ” by Nelly Furtado


She tips her head long curls flying,

Owning the floor with each sway and dip;

Her eyes gleam light and pale-blue sight;

You’ll never understand — this seductress saved your life.

She completes your being as she sings off-key,

And her body entices, teasing your thoughts —

Down trails of searing delight.

She’s a maneater stealing your breath,

She’ll make you sweat hard, make your fists clench;

Biting her lip before she sips vodka-neat.

The tan of her skin speaks of wandering,

Of foreign cities where she was a siren calling.

She’s a maneater whose perfected her skills;

She’s completion and desire,

Her skin glowing in moonlight.

She’s the comfort in your heart, and she’s only yours.

She’s a maneater, and you fell hard for her love,

When her lips, and her hips — her generous heart’s core,

Caught yours and clasped on in a vise.

Now, your sipping your beer as she puts on a show,

Practised dance-steps enthralling you still.

Lifting her hair, mahogany thick,

Heated stare all consuming;

As her dewy skin melts makeup’s glamour,

Revealing the girl beneath her eyeliner.

She’s a tiger-woman laughing with her friends;

As they twirl and spin, wide smiles, toothy-grins.

Yet, she’s the only woman that grabs you,

Cradles your heart within hers.

She’s the one who loves you,

Who moves skin-to-skin when you’re too warm.

She was a maneater, but now she’s yours,

Her body and love yours to adore.

You suffer and rejoice,

See her limbs lift and twist.

Her love pulls you deeper,

You yank her off her heels, desperate;

The car speeds home to night’s bliss.

The maneater’s tenderness,

Her head ends on your heart.

Blood thick in your veins,

She caresses your soul.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 25/Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “Phone-Love” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


For NaPoWriMo Day 25 the Prompt is: “to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself!” Also, I’m combining with the Prompt from Sonya of Only 100 Words #3LineTales.


Credit: Alexander Boucher via Unsplash


It was exciting,

To know you, and to learn more —

Until your phone beeped.

*****

Until you set it on the —

Dining table absorbed by —

Its trills, and not me.

*****

Whispering goodbye,

Your phone-love irked me, and I —

Knew that night was it.

*****


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 21/Sunday Writing: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The Unmaking of A Dream” #amwriting #poetry #mythology #MLMM


For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “based on the myth of Narcissus. After reading the myth, try writing a poem that plays with the myth in some way.”

Combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on the title The Unmaking of A Dream.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Narcissist so loved himself first,

Blond hair, chiseled jaw, self-love burst.

Down by the pool, his special place —

He dreams of his attractive face.

He can’t find one person with grace–

Enough to see, they’re not on par.

He’s been granted magnificence; his looks they compel,

Admiration from men and women; he loves but himself.

*****

Liriope his mother so gorgeous,

Son of river god, Cephisesus.

Brave hunter disdainful of love,

To proud to care for anyone.

Such was his vainness, he upset —

Nemesis; doesn’t regret —

His reflection, his greatest lust; adrift selfish and vain,

He resents sweet Echo’s presence, her heart aching, her pain.

*****

Some say the nymph she dwindled,

Echo Narcisse’s swindled.

“Leave me alone,” his haughty —

Tone made her stomach squirm, distraught.

She begged, she blathered, she touched him;

But he threw off her hands, voice grim,

She echoed his words; he was entranced in his visage;

No mirror, but a pool’s reflection made Echo livid.

*****

No, the rude hunter did not fade,

Nor waste away with longing gaze.

Echo did not wander until her —

Melodic voice was gone — unheard.

Stomping her foot in anger’s blaze,

She clutched Narcisse’s Hair enraged;

Drowning him in love-lorn grief; a pool of dreams his final grave,

Nemesis concurred, the hunter was best dead; self-love decayed.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 22/Tale Weavers: Poem – Blitz – “The Thirteenth Hour (Dim of Chase)” #poetry #amwriting #TaleWeavers #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 22 the Prompt is: ” to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens: ‘The clock can’t strike thirteen.‘”

I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt #166 on the theme of “exploring the sensations of being lost, not knowing where you are and realizing you are wandering aimlessly. How and/or who do you ask for help?”


Credit: Mara Eastern. Used with Permission for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


The clock can’t strike thirteen

Thirteens the witching hour dim

Dim as the black soundless night

Dim as every street’s the same

Same as the last and same as the next

Same figures leering in an unfathomable maze

Maze where I don’t know where here is

Maze where each turn is the wrong way

Way down cobblestone paths

Way down roads with naught but silence

Silence without comfort

Silence that hastens quivering

Quivering and deciding to go back

Quivering as I wander in circles

Circles towards the same stuccoed shops

Circles to windows with signs reading, “Closed”

Closed as midnight has long passed chimed

Closed no matter my banging on houses

Houses red-bricked, idyllic in day

House white-fenced unhearing of strangers

Strangers as I, but I am no harm

Strangers as they who follow and whisper

Whisper that I’m lost and cannot escape

Whisper of this hours unholiness

Unholiness as the demons mock my steps

Unholiness as the graveyard headstones crack

Crack as stones splits with moaning

Crack as hands reach, bloodied and fragile

Fragile as my skin sweating and chilled

Fragile as heels broken — left in bare-feet

Bare-feet blackened from putrid streets

Bare-feet cut by pebbles with each step

Step here, step there, no where leads home

Step into the inescapable hour trapped

Trapped as the chants drew me far

Trapped as I bewitched scampered

Scampered away from the party’s delights

Scampered into the sudden mist further

Further into the labyrinth, a sweet dream in daylight

Further into the hour my grandmother warned

Warned of those of dark intent who wander

Warned of the hour so few remember

Remember the creatures who frighten

Remember the creatures who chase

Chase in the thirteenth hour’s delusions

Chase me, knowing I knew better

Better despite my heart’s rapid fluttering

Delusions fade, a light burns — the wicked-hour passes


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes April Part Three 2018 (Special Edition) #quotes #pinterest #notablequotes


Welcome to a special 3rd Edition of Quotes for April, Yay! Enjoy!


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.