Poem: Free Verse – “Young and Beautiful” #music #poetry #amwriting 


Credit: Chemo Madoz – http://www.pinterest.com

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“Young and Beautiful” – Lana Del Rey 

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Such a wish have humans, 

For the fountain of youth. 

Retaining our vivacity, 
Twenty-something good-looks. 

To maintain an image of fresh faces, 

Yet carry the wisdom age gains. 

I think if we knew anything, 

We’d know it’s a curse to be young forever. 

For all such wisdom acquired in life, 

There’s a price to be paid. 

Experience taught and it —

Marked us with age spots, 

With wrinkles and scars, 

With under eye circles, 

Nightmares and inner trauma. 

Journeying through life we learned

 Our lesson, or perhaps we haven’t yet? 

When we are young, 

We are carefree and full of vigor. 

Not thoughtful in how we think or react,

No maturity, no flash of pain;

The liberty of youth suits the young. 

But to be a man or woman-child with —

The eyes of our great-grandparents,

Bearing several lifetimes of burdens;

I think, for a mere human, 

Would be too much grief to bear. 

For the older we become, 

We learn from birth we’re dying. 

Life is a quest and it’s meant to end

We’re meant for the heavens, 

Free of our lifetime of issues

Emotional, psychological, and physical decay, 

The exhaustion of life. 

The old realize when their time is coming —

That it is right. 

A lifetime of sorrows, to have so many years,

Would break a soul completely;

Nevermind a physical body. 

That’s why the young are beautiful,

Life hasn’t wounded them. 

They are too ignorant to see — 

Life isn’t meant on earth to be eternity —

The light shining to restore body, soul, and mind, 

In heaven shines for all,  

In timelessness we will be young,

All of us appearing how we ought;

No imperfections, 

Perfect creations.

Handling both knowledge and beauty,

Eloquent and graceful;

Gods children thankful

And only those who die young,

When life is torn by accident

By atrocity and ill health, 

(And the aged)

Understand this concept. 

As their grandparents did or do, 

Only the ill and dying, have vantage of this, 

Life is so frail;

A wisp of a veil torn, 

We’re all too busy living to see. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Prayer for the Small Things” #amwriting #poetry #prayer


Credit: Saatchi Art – Thank God For Women Legs by Thomas Saliot

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Oh Lord, thank God for the small things, 

The words and acts of kindness, 

Which help me through the day.

Thank God for the small things, 

Each day I’m fed, 

I’ve many clothes to wear.

Thank you that I too can be generous

That you gave me a Mother who taught —

Her daughter to be thoughtful, 

So I wouldn’t think only of myself. 

And even when I’m hurt and crying

I can see a silver lining in that cloud. 

*****

Lord, thank you for the small things, 

A life I’m given to live

No matter how battered or bruised

You’re my armour and you never leave. 

Your champions wage

Though the whirlpool may swallow;

You bring us through to the other side. 

New blessings each day, 

More than we need or want, or deserve

Thank you for the small things. 

For earnings, for caring friends, 

For a heart that doesn’t break when it’s bent

Thank you for love; however, small it was, 

For those who hurt me, 

So I knew then, what forgiveness was. 

*****

Lord, oh for the small things, 

That kindness could be formed in me, 

To kill the badness, the jealousy

Thank you for keeping him safe, 

For him not being my guy, 

Though I pray for him still, 

You keep him secure, alive —

I pray you give him faith

And draw us both close to you. 

*****

Thank you my almost love, 

Is not in the big picture. 

I hope he sees his wealth, 

His privilege comes, 

Not only with acts of goodness

But faith in God, in Jesus —

From his heart

If I see him again —

Help me to not turn away but to repair

So much is your power, 

You could change a man’s mind. 

Help him see he is lost in the law, 

He needs your grace to believe

*****

Thank you Lord, for the small things, 

My family, my friends, those I detest. 

My lost pets, my forgotten foes. 

Every man I felt something special for,

For the ones who hurt me deep and cut in;

I didn’t bleed out and die inside. 

I moved on, survived

I’m doing okay. 

*****

Thank you I was born in this day and age

Not one-hundred something years ago or more. 

For medical advances, social programs, 

And people more understanding, 

At least I hope

Thank you that one day, I’ll see you face to face,
Thank you Lord, for the small things, 

For to me they’re very big.

My prayer I give and keep in my heart

For your omniscient presence, 

For your healing,

Oh Lord, I ask and give thanks. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: The Passing Of The Pocket-Watch #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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http://www.pixebay.com

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“I haven’t seen a watch like this in years. My great-grandfather had one . . . I was only a boy of seven and I remember sitting on his lap.” Edgar said.

“That’s nice Dad. You always tell me this story. It’s your watch now Dad, remember?” Tracy interrupted.

“No, it was Great-Grandpa Vern’s watch. I sat on his lap an he said I could have it when he died. He was eighty-four which was quite old for the time .  .  .” 

“Your Great-Grandpa did die Dad. A year later, he got the flu; you told me. You inherited his watch.” Tracy said.

“He died? I don’t remember him giving me the watch . . . But I suppose, since I have it — it’s my watch now. How old am I?” 

Tracy patted her Dad’s hand, “You’re ninty-seven Dad. You lived longer than your Dad or your Grandpa or your Great-Grandpa.” 

“Ninty-seven?” Edgar said surprised.

Tracy nodded.

“Time goes fast. When I die, best give the watch to your boy; the one with all the tattoos.” Edgar remarked, peering at Tracy. He didn’t know her, only knew she was his daughter because she visited. 

Edgar was shocked to realize he was ninty-seven. The watch would have to go to his only grandson.

There had to be productivity and hard work hidden in those tattoos somewhere.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Words After Turning Thirty-One” #amwriting #poetry 


http://www.pinterest.com

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What do we become as women at thirty-one?

Are we put out to pasture? 
Or are we doing the kicking to the curb? 

Are we like the woman of the 1960’s? 

Childless, no husband, so no value? 

Are we no longer desired? 

Are we spinsters, old-maids, bachelorettes for life? 

Or are do we fit my Uncles words:

“The most beautiful women are in their thirties.” 

Is it just the beginning, or is it the end? 

A last stretch of youth?

Or maybe, a reach for adulthood? 

Where some intelligence kicks in, 

And you’re tired of the lies, 

Meaningful nights; mornings depressed. 

So, you’ll wait for the right kind of guy, 

With the right kind of flaws;

Or maybe you live your own charmed life? 

Happy to be single, confident, relaxed.

Is it coming out of bubble gum and pink clouds? 

Finally not a girl;

But a woman who can impact change? 

Is it refinement and elegance? 

A striving for grace and eloquence? 

Is it realizing there is no Prince Charming? 

No white horse or Disney fairytale? 

Building your own life,

Do you forge it the best you can? 

Is it becoming aware even greater, 

Your teachers in childhood are growing older;

Your most lives won’t be around forever, 

So, you gather their wisdom while you can;

Spend time with them now.

Time steals loved ones; be they young or old.

Is thirty-one when you realize,

You are not impervious to dying at anytime in life? 

Severe fatigue, cancer, lupus, Thyroid troubles, 

Depression, anxiety, car accidents, the flu, MS;

Disease in some form, affects us all, 

Bodies which don’t bounce back as easily;

Requiring movement to maintain fitness,
And junk food, oh you’ll pay for it later! 

Sharing a bottle of vodka, tequila, or wine;

Drinking almost all of it, 

Can this be done anymore, and survived? 

Two glasses of wine or two beers, 

Every once in a while seems alright, 

Or face the two-day hangover regrettfully.

The biggest thing about being thirty-one, 

I’ll never get back years in my twenties, 

Lost in fatigue and mental illness, affects of meds;

They’re fond memories of genuine friends;

Futures, I see possibilities of having.

But someone wise once wrote, at the ages if 15 to 32:

Don’t worry about marriage, kids, or being grown-up;

Just enjoy and learn, explore the world. 

The wanderlust calls to me endlessly, 

A mysterious adventure waiting;

Such planning, such difficulties, such hardship; 

For a fantastic trip; I could barely walk all day, 

Or afford it; but wouldn’t it be worth it? 

To have thousands of foot prints,

To cover my pages, and see it’s okay – life goes how it does.

Thirty-one it’s only begun; an age of aspirations, 

Hopefully, inspirations to write more of;

As numerous as my days in all my years allotted. 

Passion and a life to live, anyway I know how.

Grace of God abounding; encircling profoundly, 

His child, he won’t let stumble long.

He guards with angels, and —

His forever promise of light in the dark; 

As wise JK Rowling wrote through Dumbledore:

“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times; 

If only one will Remember, to turn on the light.” 
——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Published Poetry On www.spillwords.com #amwriting #poetry 


Today I’m excited to share with you my first ‘published,’ piece of poetry not as a blogger or a guest post for another blog. The website which published my poetry is called Spillwords and I found them through Twitter.

Please take a look at the website there are many fantastic pieces of writing to explore. I know you’ve read this poem before a couple of times but I’m so pleased it became  published especially for my Grandma Reeder’s sake, as the poem is written for her. She is I believe, ninty-six-years-old and despite a few health issues this year, doing fantastic for her age.

Here’s my poem on Spillwords: Your Wrinkles Make You Beautiful

http://www.spillwords.com

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reseved.

Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – ” Your Wrinkles Make You Beautiful” #Maydays



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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is beauty, something or someone beautiful. I’m reposting a poem I wrote for my Great-Godmother. She is a special person to me and doing well past her mid-nineties in age.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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There is beauty in your wrinkles, 

A deep timely beauty, that took experience to make.

You are more than classic; you are infinitely lovely and gorgeouse.

No twenty-two year old in all her youthful vigor is so pretty, 

That she can have more knowledge than your reflective eyes.

Or more inspiration then your smiles give, 

More thoughts racing through her mind, of a life both hard and incredible.

Your beauty is eternal, a flame that won’t die out.

You shall carry it to heaven with you because you loved a child in a manger and your faith made your life well.

You are more exotic and enchanting then any woman in the land; 

You are the light of home to many. 

When your presence fades there shall be a void felt by all those who loved your luminescence;

 A beauty which was internal and spread to your warm skin.

A beauty that inhabits everyone of your loved ones and friends. 

You are simply marvellous, a dame that no one can compare with.

You had husbands, boyfriends, and partners with which you shared your life and your beauty with delight. 

You out-lived them all with your smile and a bounce in your step.

Your wrinkles are truly beautiful because they tell your story.

A story growing up on a farm, a story of loss, a house in the city, a story of love, and fond memories. 

And through it all shone your pretty face. 

Those bright eyes and your laughing mouth; your wonderful hugs, good wishes —

And your many roles throughout your life. 

Beauty lies in everything those roles made you; you were unstoppable.

 In your stylish shoes and upbeat attitude.

You are lovely, and will always be to me a Grandma, a Great-Godmother, and a friend.

Such wisdom you hold, your wisdom you cooked into pies, soups, trifles, lasagna;

Your hospitality made you beautiful.

You are the rarest rose in the garden;

 Loved by so many and so many you have met. 

This is why I say your wrinkles make you beautiful, 

For you are incredible, a gem in a pile of fakes.

A fantastic woman and every year as you age your beauty is much deeper.

Your wrinkles make you beautiful.

Let no one say otherwise —

 For one day I want wrinkles too, 

For I wish to be beautiful as you.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Reversed Haiku- ” Always Beautiful”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt shelf.

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http://www.pinterest.com
 
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Do women have a shelf life?

A time of years when they,

Aren’t beautiful anymore?

—-

Is there a time when beauty,

Seeps out through their bones;

Time a wretched thief stealing.

—-

Is beauty so vapid that,

It means only your looks,

Or a deeper quality?

—–

Do we place ourselves on,

That empty lost shelf,

Or do certain men place us?

——

Is beauty vital past youth,

Being pretty is —

Feeling fabulous inside.

—–

Then, peering in a mirror,

Pleased with what’s seen;

But wrinkles happen quickly —

—–

Beauty evaporates.

Some never had it, 

Only their own youthfulness.

—–

Youth a concept of the heart,

Not a looking glass;

Youthful beauty is rare.

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What is your shelf-life woman,

I think you decide,

Old, or timeless beautiful?

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.