#NaPoWriMo Day 2/Sunday Writing: Poem – Free Verse – “Healing Hearts.” #MLMM #poetry #amwriting


For NaPoWriMo Day 2, the prompt focuses on “addressing two “you”s in a poem. Such as taking an existing poem of yours or someone else’s, and rewriting it in a different voice. The point is to play with who is speaking to who and how.

I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing prompt from March 4, of unlikely partnerships/friendships/relationships etc.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


“Jar of Hearts” – Christina Perri


Who do you think you are?

Running around leaving scars,

Forget my jar of hearts,

Forget, how I hurt others to survive.

You’re the one who shattered my heart,

Was eternal brokenness your master plan?”

Who do you think you are —

I know who you are.

You’re the one who’s scarred,

Pumping blood to atrial veins.

A heart of stone it needs no blood,

It can’t memorize my tears that flood.

So who do you think you are,

Leaving the crevices of scars.”

Who do you think you are?

Thinking you can hide,

You’ve but, heartbreak to impart,

Once more,

My heart throbs, died part by part.

The ice inside your soul,

It’s the chill that winters holds.

Woman who judges,

Who froze out my love.”

Put down your bloody jar,

Peer beyond the freeze.

Absorb the fire of blood that frees,

Beyond to hearts that live,

That love, that ache, that feel;

That desire to take-on life despite.

Who do you think you are?

Quitting when love got hard.”

“I won’t stop my hands from pumping,

I’ll defibrillate my self.

I’m fighting to survive,

Collecting jars of hearts,

Because hurting them dulls,

The wound you gave me is relentless,

It’s leading me to death.

So, blood will meander in rivers,

Until my heart is healed;

I can survive on my own.”

I’ll make your stone heart ‘real,’

You’ll become a living human being.

Forget the ice inside your soul,

Forget the sharp knife in your gut twisting.

Leave behind your jar of hearts,

All those shattered souls you boasted.

My lubs, against your dubs,

They’re a power beyond your skills.

You’ll wake from slumber,

Amazed to finally feel,

Not to break others to love!

To heal our twin wounds.”

My beating heart it’s aching,

“Why did you cut it out twice?

Why does healing ache the most.

A throb that scars and burns,

Was I such monster that I couldn’t see,

Pain apart from hope’s generosity?”

Who did you think you were?

No more collecting jars of hearts,

My heart can heal yours.

Our scars are deep wells,

But together they’re better.

Better than two hearts alone,

Together we can let time lighten,

Deep cuts; time will bind our wounds,

And reveal a hope for the better.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 3/Saturday Mix: Poem – Quadrille – “Lay Me Down” #poetry #saturdaymix #dVerse


Today’s November Notes song is “All the Pretty Girls” by Kaleo. I’m combining the song prompt with WhimsyGizmo of #dVerse Poet’s Pub Quadrille prompt on kick and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie SaturdayMix Prompt on using synonyms for these words: odd, fight, start, weak, tired. 


Jacob Townsend Unsplash
Credit: Jacob Townsend Unsplash

 

“All the Pretty Girls” – Kaleo 


You sail in the sky,

Float back to earth.

I’m meekwaning, 

Waiting for you —

To let me in.

Strength has vanished,

Battle inside aches.

I’m kicking passed eternities,

In strangeness. 

Pretty girls fall,

Without fuel to recharge. 

Please lay me down,

Lay with me tonight.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Music Prompt #10: Poem – Quadrille – “Memories of Red” #poetry #dVerse #musicchallenge #TaylorSwift


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for the music prompt challenged based on Taylor Swift’s songRed” from her album Red. I’m combining this with Born of Poet’s Pub #dVerse Quadrille poem on bliss. 

——-

Sam Burris Red Love
Credit: Sam Burris via Unsplash

——

“Red” by Taylor Swift

——

Souls fused, 

Luminous Rouge. 

Nos coeurs, 

Gleam as one. 

Connection pulsing. 

Palms grasped tight. 

Bliss, serenity, 

Passion never replete. 

Forever yearning, 

Skin caressed. 

Conversations ’till dawn. 

Before sultry bodies meld. 

Passionate sins, 

Red cinders. 
Cold words, 
Haunting gray, 

Your stone heart, 

Sculpted of ice.

 Yet Red love, 

Throbs in —

Stomach’s hollowness, 

Hearts stabbing. 

Memories,

Blood Red. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Maydays: Fiction – Part 2 – After The Plane Crash #Maydays


——-

Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Mayday prompts. Today’s theme is a battle or fight of some kind. Also, Part 2 of a continuing series After The Plane Crash. Read Part 1 here. The battle I’m showing is the main characters fight through her fever and aches from being lost in the wild two weeks.

———

Please read Part 1 here.

——-

“Young lady are you awake.” A woman’s voice whispered to me quietly. “What’s your name?”

I make a noise, not wanting to leave the land of my dreams. It’s safe and peaceful here. Danny is with me and we’re drinking a beer together like old times. I know my friend is not real but I don’t want to admit to myself in my dreams; Danny is dead.

A gentle hand feels my forehead. “She has a high fever. I’m not surprised being out in the wilderness that long. She’s sweating. I think it was an excellent thing the doctor got here so fast and we were able to hook her up to an IV to get some fluid and nutrition into her body.”

 The woman’s voice was soft and sensible. She sounded like the voice of a lady who was a mother. She smoothed back my hair and I sighed in my state of half sleep. I was cold and sweating at the same time. Iceness overcame me and I shivered trying to pull plush blankets around me as I sweated.

“Aunt Tabitha, what can we do? If we keep giving her the IV as the doctor said, and introduce her to some soup and other food in a few days, do you think she’ll be alright?” 

The voice I heard speaking was the deep male voice I had heard before I passed out. The voice had a rich timber, it sounded young and attractive. 

A small smile shaped my lips, then I groaned as cold sweat overcame me. “Poor thing,” Aunt Tabitha said. “I’ll take care of her Eric. Don’t worry, your Auntie took care of you when you were ill as a child and I would do the same for this poor young woman.”

“I appreciate it Aunt Tabitha. I really do. I didn’t know who else to call. The workers wanted nothing to do with her.They thought she had some awful disease the way she appeared to them.”

Tabitha gave a harsh laugh. “Ha, those locals are full of stories and superstitions which have no basis in reality. This woman will be fine. When I clean her up a bit and later when she can wash her hair, I imagine she’s a beautiful girl, Eric. I hope the man who died in that plane crash wasn’t her boyfriend.”

“ I don’t know . . .” Eric said softly. “I’ll leave you too it.” I heard him walk away and a door shutting.

 I was awake but not fully. I faded in and out of feverish dreams, nightmares where I was trapped in a never ending forest. No animals in sight. Nothing edible and carrying no water. Only dead silence filling my ears.

I was dressed in a bra and panties and had nothing else on — not even shoes. Darkness descended and it began to snow and my body was wracked by cold as the wind picked up and the snow built up around me. I couldn’t move. I was so cold I was frozen stiff like an ice sculpture; I shrieked aloud.

——–

Eons pass where I am stuck inbetween what’s real and what’s in my dreams. I dream about my Mom and Dad, how worried they would be about me. I know it’s been past two-weeks now since the plane crash. My feaver hasn’t abated for days but Aunt Tabitha dutifully stays at my side. At night there is a hired nurse. A thin bird-like woman who doesn’t speak English but sees to my needs. 

Aunt Tabitha is with me whenever she can be. I’m aware of her reading on her tablet. Sometimes she reads to me, but I want to tell her she’s only giving my mind more material for nightmares. 

I know she has asked me my name several times but I have trouble finding a voice strong enough to answer her when I feel semi-lucid. Only when nightmares overwhelm me do I scream and plead for them to stop using my voice loudly.

Today my head feels much clearer. I look to see the IV attached to my arm and am thankful it’s giving me nutrients because I think food would repulse me right now. With heavy eyes I scan the room. Strangely, Aunt Tabitha isn’t here. 

I move my head and neck gently, testing my muscles which ache from being in bed too long and from hiking through the woods. I wiggle my toes and stretch my legs. I straighten my arms infront of me and put my arms above my head, stretching my whole body like a cat. I feel a jolt of pain in my side.

Pain throughout my body becomes apparent. Bruises and scrapes mostly. I look at my one wrist and see it’s wrapped in a bandage.I must have sprained it. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice when the sprain occurred.

I feel dirty and have the urge to scrub my body until my skin is pink. A bath would be heavenly. My hair is limp and greasy on my head, I can’t remember ever having hair this scungy. 

I lean up in bed regarding the room around me. It’s a large bedroom and the room,  a work of art and design. The room has a peaceful ambiance, painted in grey-blue.

The furniture including the head board behind me is bleached wood like drift wood from the ocean. I feel relaxed in this place, gazing towards a giant white window with a padded blue window seat full of pillows matching my bed’s dark ink blue duvet and silver and white striped sheets.

I haven’t seen the sun in days. The bright white light of the sun bathes me through the window, but is too bright for my eyes. I shade my face with my hand and gaze in awe at the lush greeness of the mansions front yard. They’re fountains and flowers in the distance.

“Wow,” I say and my voice feels gravelly. I start saying random words and sentences aloud to make my voice sound normal but I can’t seem to rid my voice of its weakness.

 I raise my body into a sitting position, crossing my legs under the bed covers. My body cooperates slowly and with aches, but I manage. 

I have decided to have a bath or showe.  I’m certain I can stand and walk. On careful feet as if I were a toddler, I slip out of the bed and start walking to the bathroom I spied at the end of the room. 

It feels so far away at first but my legs remember how to walk quickly and my steps are more assured as I go. Resting against the door frame, I peer into the bathroom.

There is a large tiled glass shower with a wooden bench inside; I am thankful for the bench.The bathroom is designed well with a heavy marble countertop, twin sinks, and dark blue cabinets underneath the counter. A vanity table near by, holds a few cosmetics, clearly for a woman. The toilet is inside a closet in the corner of the bathroom.

I drop my clothes on the wood floor, carefully removing them as my muscles are still sore. The loose grey sweat pants and large white T-shirt are far too roomy to be my clothing and I leave them on the floor.

 I open up the shower door and hobble over to the bench where I sit turning on the shower nozzle convienantly located near my head. The shower is hot, too hot at first. But the showerhead gives a cleansing rainfall shower. I sigh in pleasure as the water washes over me. Picking up a puff hanging on the wall, I squirt jasmine scented Dior body wash on it. I scrub my body free of natures dirt and fevers sweat. 

My body’s skin is as pink as I imagined, when I reach for Dior face wash and volumizing shampoo. I wash my hair four-times before I’m satisfied it’s clean and I condition it, letting the conditioner soak into my dry long brunette strands before washing it out. The sun has caused some of my brunette strands to bleach blond.

When I’m done washing, I relax and let the hot rainfall water run massaging my muscles which ache. I stay inside the shower longer then necessary but I haven’t felt this well in forever.

 “Are you ever coming out?” a deep voice asks outside the shower chuckling.

I gasp and quickly turn the shower off fumbling. I cover myself with my hands uselessly. Eric is outside the glass shower and I’m naked inside, no towel within reach.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Wrapped Refrain – “What Made You Feel?”


 

http://www.hercampus.com
 
—–

What made you feel indifferent?

Maybe, prayers fell, deaf ears sent.

Was there a past you couldn’t conceal?

Pieces of you broken that wouldn’t seal.

Is it virtuous, living disguised, behind those lies?

Tattered rags of curtains, not letting light revise.

—-

Weren’t you appreciated?

Your daily deeds not compensated.

There is no authenticity,

Sense of responsibility.

Creating patterns of actions you keep rueing.

Never stopping, thinking of your undoing.

—–

Head pounding with aches and much pain.

A serenade of that refrain.

In life, trying to give back something real,

Searching for options to make ‘heart’ feel.

Dragging baggage with these hollow truths you lived,

Praying profoundly, learning each day to forgive.

—–

Opposing what’s not genuine,

Who are we to judge the refined,

Potters clay, our maker so formed,

Knowing perfectly His shape born.

Creations designed to honour and befriend, to share —

What made you feel? I remembered to care.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.