#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.

Advertisements

#NaPoWriMo Day 5: Poem – “Nonsense In Night” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 5, the prompt is:


“Today’s prompt comes from another poem by Kyle Dargan, called “Diaspora: A Narcolepsy Hymn.” This poem, like “Call and Response,” is inspired by the work of others, the poet Morgan Parker, and lyrics from songs by Beyoncé and Notorious B.I.G. The poem partakes of one of the most difficult poetic forms, the villanelle. The classic villanelle has five three-line stanzas followed by a final, four-line stanza. The first and third lines of the first stanza alternately repeat as the last lines of the following three-line stanzas, before being used as the last two lines of the final quatrain. Following Dargan’s lead, today we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way.”


Credit: Mari Pa via Unsplash


You can contend you’ve solved cryptic problems,

That you’ve grown beyond self-unraveling,

But, is life more than intrepid self-illusion?

Then, pain with aching splints wracks, words dravel.

Arch your neck, face towards bliss –sun heals;

Absorb relief, black-holes halt your travels.

Warped, sucked into sorrow, hate congeals;

Stone ’round your neck, going down; never drown,

Not in hazy moments, not in fields —

Canola golden-rod, yellow profound,

And the sky azure light; so blue, you breath life.

You were stuck a ‘sec,’ but never down.

Live and breath, ignore the mire — survive strife;

Don’t let the bruised night come again to strike.

Never let the slurping bogs constrict life,

Swim fast beyond the cloud’s stark, snowy white.

Beyond the shearling sheep’s velvet ‘yen’ yarn,

Ride capped waves of foam, with all your might.

Forever enthralled with life’s wild wild nights.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 4: Poem – “Soul Crooning Joy” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 4, the prompt is:


“And now for today’s (optional) prompt, inspired by Teicher’s poem “Son“. One thing you might notice about this poem is that it is sad, but that it doesn’t generate feeling through emotional words. The words are simple. Another thing you might notice is that it’s a sonnet – not in strict iambic pentameter, but fourteen rhymed, relatively short lines. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own sad poem, but one that, like Teicher’s, achieves sadness through simplicity. Playing with the sonnet form may help you . . .”


Credit: Preslie Hirsch via Unsplash


You can be around your things sad singing,

As if you were meaningless and abstract,

As if you’re loneliness was a forever fact.

You forget the joy of people mingling,

Then, azure-blue skies, clear your head’s ringing.

For a moment in lush nature you’re not lost,

Not alone, fretting and tossed —

As turbulent seas, their waves sling you into depths.

Perhaps, once you realize you won’t drown,

White-capped waves slow, gentle and soothing.

Without fear of hollowness engaged;

You can occupy yourself alone and grin,

Life’s balanced, you’ve both Joie a viva, and feel safe;

You can be alone, yet in a crowd — soul crooning.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 3: Lunes – “Seconds Slip” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 3, the prompt is:


“Today’s prompt is based in a poem by Larry Levis called “The Two Trees.” It is a poem that seems to meander, full of little digressions, odd bits of information, but fundamentally, it is a poem that takes time. . . I’d like to challenge you to. . . write something that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.”


Credit: Heather Zabriskie via Unsplash.


Levitating light, airy and ethereal.

Baby’s mobile spins,

As the sundial’s shadow wanes.

*****

Ticks — children sigh, clocks circling.

Can’t read minutes,

Deduce digital numeric language better.

*****

Somewhere neither young nor old,

Decimals on smartphones,

Grandfather chimes, seconds slip, lost.

*****

©️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.

#NaPoWriMo Day 1: Poem – A’L’Arora – “Choose to Dream” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 1, the prompt is below:

“For our first (optional) prompt, let’s take our cue from O’Neil’s poem, and write poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something. It can be a sort of recipe, like O’Neil’s poem. Or you could try to play on the notorious unreliability of instructional manuals (if you’ve ever tried to put IKEA furniture together, you know what I mean). You could even write a dis-instruction poem, that tells the reader how not to do something. This well-known poem by John Ashbery may provide you with some additional inspiration.”


Credit: Luis Quintero via Unsplash


I can’t instruct you with fine words to write,

Those have to gravitate from inside you.

I can’t make you sit, inspire you to jot,

You know what’s good writing, take quiet pause.

Perhaps, you’ll dream as the daylight expires.

Perhaps, you’ll save rhymes for a moment’s time.

I can’t force your words by pen or keyboard,

You must decide, set aside seconds — write.

*****

All the prompts in the world won’t bring fame,

You’ll have to practice every day and night.

Despite exhaustion, sleeplessness, family;

You’ll scribble ideas, create stories.

Or grab your phone, fingers tapping sweet tunes;

Let each note inside you burn to live, breathe.

I can’t shove you each day, candle light’s best;

But, sunlight burns too, when inner words seethe.

*****

I can’t correct all your grammar, you’ll not see —

These ‘niggly ‘ errors you once thought were not.

Not anything series ’til you learned.

Now, each line has value; each mistake irks.

But, until you ripped apart each sentence,

You never caught on — adverbs are poison.

Now past words, are awash with repentance.

*****

So, now I leave you writer-child make space,

For my words, themselves, must tumble forth in haste.

We’re all hiking paths together –comment.

We all rock with troubled gasps, when the keys —

To our vivid imaginations hide.

When our characters that gloried, us demean;

When our plots tangle, webs weave and muddle,

But we’re all here, write awhile, choose to dream.


A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L’Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as “La” is her signature. “Aurora” is Italian and means “dawn” – “Arora” is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Fallen Angel” #poetry #MLMM #amwritingo


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Sea Angel, transparent wings transport,

With lights of butterscotch dawn.

Your pistils and stamen,

Tangy bright, a heated encounter of self;

A falsehood perverted.

Yet, your wispy grace flutters,

Luminescence lures with —

A cobra’s venom.

Such a strange angel,

No whispered warnings.

Your effervescent petals enchant–

In the dark.

Floral and fluorescent,

A perilous Lilly,

Not one of hope on a casket,

A Lily of spite and survival engrained.

For you are ancient —

As creations dawn and Eden’s loss.

In the depths you’ve continued,

The world changes but you know little of it.

Only of your pincer teeth,

Stings of sunflower razors.

Taking your prey into pitch.

Where you’re the only light,

The only flower.

As coldness numbs, their blood turns blue,

You steal a soul, angel of despair.

You’re the harbinger of evil;

Unrecognized or understood.

Beauty is your survival, your instinct;

And you’ve not the wit or care to know —

You’re a curse, you’re a witch,

You’re without light’s truthfulness.

You’re a ghost transculent;

Your poison, the end.

With vivacious glory,

Enthralling and cursed.

You lead astray,

Such lambs of the water,

To the depths of misery.

To the finality of nothingness.

Woe to you,

Fallen Angel,

Pandemonium’s first stone.


©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.