Photo Challenge: Poem – Blank Verse – “The Nymphs’ Allure” #amwriting #poetry #mythology 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt.

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Credit: http://www.jwwaterhouse.com

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Come in, come play, the water’s warm and fine,

We’re all having fun, clothing  unnecessary.

Any nymph knows her body is pleasing.

But little we find young men who wander,

To visit us a while — let yourself rest.

Let your body be beguiled by us.

We’re girls full of laughter; blossoms —

To eat which are tasty and keep you near,

From leaving too soon; it’s a party here,

A never ending happy hour, wine flows —

From Dynosios cup; so drink up, sit back.

Time stands still and you’re forever a youth;

Caught in this moment, we’ll all feel —

Forever blissed; stay amongst us spirits,

Of the earth, of trees, grass, wood, and water.

We care for the forest, lush paths followed,

Hideaways, treasures, meant to last.

Gift of the gods, for us having beauty,

Like yours; but we offer you — explore.

Spend your eternity here, we see so few,

Such attractive men, so stay find pleasure,

Aid us keeping the world alive and safe.

For future generations, for our —

Children, and plenty of youthful men.

Your life could be dreamlike, could be blissful.

Come in, come play, the water’s warm and fine.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Poem: Free Verse – ” Silver and Gold “


http://www.studio.e-picasa.com

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You can say it in as many ways, 

As it comes to your mind, 

You can try to convince me otherwise,

But I have drawn a line.

Cross the line, I’ll tell you how it goes,

My answer, you’ll probably hate.

But scars run deep, criss-crossing,

Battle wounds which don’t completely heal.

You only see a slight raised line,

White and long —

 But I feel the pain of the wound.

I remember how the scar came to be,

I know how I screamed inside,

Trying to be brave, 

As the cut ran red with blood,

Gore and trauma, degradation.

A scar such as this doesn’t merely heal,

It can reappear and open-up,

A wound that flares with blood-red drops.

Underneath the skin is pink marble,

And  you can see how deep it went,

Layers pealed back as I cried with pain.

It’s my scar on my body;

Apart of me for life.

A mark that lives on my skin and —

I have curves, I will not lie.

But my curves aren’t perfect creamy white,

 Scars and nicks lie here and everywhere.

Disfigurement remaining there, 

I’m imperfect and I’m flawed.

Don’t you know strength was born from such scars?

Curves are real and they reflect,

A body blessed with shape and allure.

But what I want you to notice,

When my skin is bare,

The scars angry red, left there.

For those scars are what will always be,

They are me, and I am them.

If you can accept them,

You can love me too, 

For on my body they are silver and gold,

Worth what I’ve been through.

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Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompts Scar and Curve.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.