#OctPoWriMo 2018 Day 1/ Sunday Writing Prompt/ #PhotoChallenge: Poem – “Death’s Twilight” #amwritingpoetry


For OctPoWriMo Day 1 the theme is surrender. I’m combining with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt on the poem, “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. Also, using a photo prompt from NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


Credit: Natalia Ruka

She rises, you think she’d shrink,

Lose her footing with knobby bones, bloody footprints;

But, she’s a miracle and survives despite —

The annihilation of her heart.

No surrender, no train cars full of the sick and dying;

No camps of death will kill her.

She won’t surrender, she’ll paint you a dream,

A masterpiece of despair and scribbled features.

A portrait or less, no seashell rocking shut;

She rasps, vapours of her lost innocence.

Herr who?

With battered purple sockets.

Herr who?

A dream or nightmare trawling.

I have no dreams of innocence, only a suffering spitefulness for your hate.

Words that shattered the cracked mirror,

Seventy times seven bad luck.

Herr who?

Miss Plath, your words are riddled traps.

Herr who?

She fakes death, blood and bone snapped;

Flesh from hands shredded.

Your terror camps and eyes of sunken sin,

Can’t make her alive, though she’s not yet, dead.

Be on guard for those caught in-between;

Those who aren’t afraid as the breath in their lungs rattles.

Beware of those who see death and leave life;

The exact meeting of one leaving the elevator, while the other travels home.

Beware of hair as hellfire, she the angel of death;

No surrender, for none was given her.

Beware her yawning grin,

And hollow eyes as she devours men like air;

Destiny with her twisted wings,

Her opalescent fluttering, a sheen that hides the bitter.

Her charcoal hands twitching as they sketch the twilight of death.


“Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath

*****

I have done it again.

One year in every ten

I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin

Bright as a Nazi lampshade,

My right foot

A paperweight,

My face a featureless, fine

Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin

O my enemy.

Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?

The sour breath

Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh

The grave cave ate will be

At home on me

And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.

What a trash

To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.

The peanut-crunching crowd

Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——

The big strip tease.

Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands

My knees.

I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.

The first time it happened I was ten.

It was an accident.

The second time I meant

To last it out and not come back at all.

I rocked shut

As a seashell.

They had to call and call

And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I’ve a call.

It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.

It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.

It’s the theatrical

Comeback in broad day

To the same place, the same face, the same brute

Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’

That knocks me out.

There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge

For the hearing of my heart——

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge

For a word or a touch

Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

So, so, Herr Doktor.

So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,

I am your valuable,

The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.

I turn and burn.

Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,

A wedding ring,

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Music Challenge/Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “ A Fallen Star’s Quest” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #32 on the song “Moon River”sung by Audrey Hepburn. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: ezornier @deviantart


Falling blaze of light, night faerie,

With feathered puff wings she tarries.

Downy angel of stardust sent,

After the Moon Rivers descent.

Wider than a mile it bubbles,

Cutting past her legs stumbling.

She lifts feathers to fly, but her wings are weights, ball and chains set;

Sunshine hair in her eyes she smiles, but her feet lurch dirt wet.

*****

As the moon’s orb casts brilliant beams,

Directs a path she deftly gleans.

Her body trembles winter cold,

Winds chilling skin; for she’s been told —

When to earth she fell, she chose weak;

To no more be a star so sweet.

Her wings disassemble, feathers as snowflakes fall, flutter;

Mud sucks her feet; she’s a once gleaming bird wingless, sputtering.

*****

Dimmed star, broken-hearted lover;

She seeks a soul; he loved her ‘bove.

She treads his way, an innocent,

Not knowing human sorrow’s pins;

Her wisdom lost, but she peers and waits.

Branches rustle, spirit engaged;

Perfection fumbles in girlish form, black-hole discovering —

A quest; she’s swept down Moon River, crazy truth uncovered.

*****

Stardust child with heart unchanging,

Rides a rainbow’s trail on the chase.

She’ll find him; he’ll gentle whisper,

Asking why she became a wisp.

She’s down Moon River full of angst,

Though, with her wings she scaled its banks.

With tears of joy on petal skin, she’s found her dream-maker;

Her heart sparks; he bends to carry a star home, she’s quaking.

*****

Their two drifters mingling swiftly,

Rising to wander the world’s mists.

Places of wonder that light her eyes,

Thunder breaks, in terror she cries.

They’re a duo with each other —

For but a lifetime’s sacred vows.

In years, the nebula rekindles shines with her soul twin;

Falling blazes, light ethereal, on infant wings both spin.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Laurenelle – “Conviction to Save Angels” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——

Credit: Elaine Farrington Johnson

——

Lady Gaga – “Angel Down” 

—–

Angel down, oh, angel, people stood around 

Wishing we could just be loving, grateful. 

Courage disappears bullets they surround. 

I believe we can be much less hateful,   

Learn wisdom, use our hearts and realize; 

Shots were fired, move provide help, safety.

But life’s a trial, some of us don’t recognize, 

We’re blessed, stop being fools who are acting weak, 

Aid the angels falling, be cognizant

Don’t you know we’re all facing the bleakness?

Our only shelter, in arms of God sacred, 

Shots were fired, down the street where we’d once meet. 

Where are our leaders, elected but graceless? 

People gawk and stand around being useless, 

Terror overcoming until we’re faceless. 

Save an angel despite being clueless, 

Wishing we could just be loving, grateful, 

I wish we’d all do something, not be ruthless

I confess I’m lost, I’ll still try to connect, 

I’ll care for humanity as I’ve respect. 

Angel down, oh, angel, people stood around. 

Courage disappears, bullets they surround. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


Photo (Collage) Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Angel Down, Angel Down” #amwriting #poetry #angeldown #ladygaga


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt: 

http://www.mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com

———

Lady Gaga Live – ” Angel Down” 

I’m so thrilled with Lady Gage’s new album. I love her dance and pop-music stuff but her new songs, some of them go deep. This is one of those songs and I used the lyrics “Angel Down” for this poem. What I love is how in the video she is live, and sounds the same as if you were listening to her on her new album. Talented singer! 

——–

She built her life, she built it strong, made it so —

It wouldn’t fall;but you can fortify —

The keep, make it so no one can slip in, 

There are always cracks within perfection; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

You can see the lines forming before she breaks, 

Memories from the past she thought would save. 

She’s safe –an illusion broken when the mirror —

Of life shatters within her face, she’s beat; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——

Trapped in a birdcage, no song to sing, 

Her tunes aren’t lucid and her wings are clipped, 

Such dreams as a young woman, such glad times, 

Now she’s angry, so frustrated — life’s a lie; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Paints her makeup mask, hide the mirror’s blood tracks, 

She thinks she’s imperfect tries to conceal —

New dress, she’s pretty, long legs on display yet, 

She can’t hide feelings, she doesn’t fit in here;

Angel Down, Angel Down

—–

He said heels were stupid, girls can’t walk on —

Four-inch needles; yet they made her happy.

Night of the dance, stumbled; wore light blue chucks,

Sitting on the radio at the party crying; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Years pass, another day spent sifting in, 

Her see-through life, on clothing racks, she —

Attempts to find the perfect fit,  but she —

Knows like her, it’s elusive, can’t be found; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——-

Music saves some, for others it magnifies

A hurt and hole inside her –can God even fill? 

Remembering hideaways, experiences —

To fill the void within, smile with tears dripping;

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

Time in lavish living rooms, won’t make her, 

Feel love she’s so denied; she can’t even —

Love her own body, isn’t what it was, 

She fingers trinkets bought, fears with tears smear; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—-

Jewel she thought would invoke good memories, 

Fill her with hope and joy again; sharp pains of —

Her past; but now her wings have been pried off,  

She’s a habiscus plucked and dying slow; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—–

Packing suitcases, her body trembles, 

She’s going on journey; her state of mind —

Broken; but she’s trying to heal and she —

Prays new memories, stop her rapid descent; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

—–

Please somebody, please help an Angel Down and —

Unlock her cage –the one she created, 

Show her some love, let her taste freedom. 

Be someone she can trust, so she won’t fade;

Angel Down, Angel Down 

—–

Angel found her feet and flew, 

Sailed above clouds anew;

The sun glints of her smile and–

She’s brand new bird who trills;

Angel Found,  Angel Found. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Octelle – “Tears On Land” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge.

——

Source: illdispose.devantart.com

——-

She’s a porpoise in water swim,

Life for her, no playful passing whim.

In gossamer gown, butterfly —

Letting out her breath, with sad sigh.

Out of cocoon perhaps she’ll break?

If breathing didn’t count for her sake.

An angel dipping her wings in the dim.

A lonely child, she floats, won’t swim.

——

Don’t give up your life in a breath,

Child with wings now so brightly set.

You’re no worm to be ashamed,

No worthless being created, blamed.

Diamond glimmers in God’s eye,

He sees in you no flaw, child abide.

You’re precious treasure life or death,

He handles all — porpoise deep breath.

——-

Dive in ocean, swim quick mammal,

Don’t be still — inhale air, expand —

Your lungs to breathe, realize —

Reasons, break cacoon and fly.

Leave world behind, most treasured,

You’re worth much more for measure.

Costly jewel cherished in God’s hand,

Angel breathe; let grief form tears on land.

——–

Octelle:

The Octelle, created by Emily Romano, is a poem consisting of eight lines using personification and symbolism in a telling manner. The syllable count structure for this verse is 8, 8, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, and the rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/aa. The first two lines and the last two lines are identical.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Story Continuation Prompt: Nonfiction – Mother Going Out


Thank you to Wandering Soul for hosting the Story Continuation Prompt Challenge. This week’s theme is Mother.


 

Coat - Mother and Child
http://www.gettyimages.ca

 

My Mother walked out of her room in heels. She was wearing her soft teal wool coat she only wore when she was dressed up to go out with my Dad. Behind her the scent of floral and baby powder drifted. I knew her perfume came from a glass pearlized owl which sat on her dresser.

The owl’s sculpted feather could be felt when I held him, but it was his glittering crystal eyes that fascinated me the most. They hinted at the mystery of being grown-up and of an elegance my Mother carried herself with.

Before she went out, my mother reached down to hug me and I was engulfed by her perfumey scent. Her soft long teal coat would brush my face. My Mom’s  teal coat was a piece of clothing she only wore on a date or special occasion. Her small curvy figure was hugged by this tailored jacket. It gave my Mom, a woman who dressed in leggings, t-shirt, and sweatpants at home, a classic and graceful quality.

My favourite aspect of this coat was the ruffle that went down the front edge of the coat flaring and fluttering out. The ruffle was pretty. Something splendid and beautiful to a little girl. The ruffle made this coat a fashion statement. It was a coat Barbie would have gracefully worn if Barbie was a petite 5’2″ woman. The belt of the coat synched my mother’s small waist in and the bottom of the coat floated around her.

I dreamed I would inherit the coat one day as a small girl. But my mom donated the coat to Goodwill in the early 2000’s. They style, however, came back ‘ in’ again soon after. Mom wouldn’t have fit the coat anymore at the time, but probably would now as she  lost weight a few years back. I know the coat would look as stunning on her now as it did back in the early 1990’s.

Mom’s teal coat was a piece of beauty. Together with the scent of flowers and baby powder, it cast my mother in this ethereal light where she appeared as if she were an angel. She would leave for the night and the babysitter would arrive, some student from my Dad’s High School where he taught, and I would feel utterly bereft without my Mom.

She was an angel dressed-up, somehow, not my usual Mother. She wasn’t the woman who yelled at me to pick up my toys, but a figure of elegance which illuminated the glow of a woman in her prime. A young woman who for one night left her children at home and was able to be a girl, to be free.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

A List of My 10 most Favourite, “Couldn’t Put Down” Books.


1.  

http://www.en.wikipedia.com
 
I first read this book in University in an English course. It’s about a Baptist family who leave Georgia in the US to be missionaries in the Belgian Congo. The book is narrated by the family’s mother Orleanna at the beginning of each of the books seven sections. After, each of her four daughters narrate their experiences. Especially, her daughter Leah. The family’s Dad is a crazy Baptist Preacher who will not leave the Congo despite his families extreme difficulties there. The family is forever changed by their experiences as missionaries. This book is life changing. So, interesting and exceptionally written as all of Barbara Kingsolver’s books are. It is even on Oprah’s booklist!

2.  

 
I read this book in University with Dr. McNamara. It is a book about a group of soldiers during the Vietnam War. Some make it home and some soldiers don’t. They carry with them their individual burdens and the burdens they take on in Vietnam. They carried their burdens home with them and if they survived, through out their lives. “They carried the malaria tablets, love letters, 28-pound mine detectors, dope, illustrated Bibles, each other. If they made it home alive, they carried unrelenting images of a nightmarish war that history is only beginning to absorb.” 

3. 

http://www.goodreads.com
 
I honestly hated studying Thomas Hardy’s poetry. He was a depressed guy with a horrible outlook on society, mankind, God, and himself. But he did write a great book when he wrote Tess of the D’Urbervilles. The book is about Tess’ fall, so to speak. She is a peasant girl who falls in love with Angel, the vicor’s sun. Angel holds Tess to a high ideal. He expects her to be the perfect loving wife he wants her to be. When he finds out Tess is not so perfect, that she was raped, he breaks the betrothal off. Tess must deal with the loss of love and make a new life for herself despite Angel’s blindness.

4.  

http://www.en.wikipedia.org
 
Not so much poetry as an epic, this epic chronicles John Milton’s interpretation of the creation of the world and the universe; the fall of Satan and his demons who oppose God and are cast into Hell;  the fall of man, God’s best creation, with help from Satan; and how the world works after man has fallen due to eating the fruit from the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden. The lines of poetry are beautiful and eloquent throughout the story. Even though Paradise Lost is long at times, and difficult to read if you don’t read poetry well, it is an amazing story. I learned a lot about my own religion, Christianity, through Paradise Lost, since much of what Milton wrote was based on the Bible and other religious Catholic books. But I’m not Catholic though. 

5.  

  

This book is brutal and awful at times. I think it opened my eyes to how terrible some people can truly be when I read it in second year university. The book compares Dorothy who is a fat, frumpy, and a proofreader with a lurid imagination; with Justine who is smart, slim, and “compulsively” sexual. Justine is a freelance journalist who interviews Dorothy about her past “involvement with a cheesy cult leader.” The book is eye opening, especially the sexual abuse and rape Dorothy received as a girl, and the awful destructive relationship Justine finds herself in with a man who could easily kill her. This is not a nice book but it will make you think twice about how screwed up certain people truly are.

6.  

 
I think Faking It by Jennifer Cruisie is my favourite chick literature book I have ever read. I can’t say why so much. It is only that the characters are so vivid and appealing. Matilda runs the Goodnight Gallery of Art, she inherited it from her father when he died. She has a secret in her past that she is willing to steal back to keep. She runs into Davy, on her first attempt to burgle a secret painting back. 

Davy is an ex con man who was ripped off three million dollars by his financial manager who turned the money over to Davy’s ex Clea. Davy will do anything to get his money back. Davy and Matilda join forces to stop “Clea, suspicious art collectors, a disgruntled heir, an exasperated hitman, a mutant dachshund,  a juke box stuck in the sixties, questionable sex, and the realization they can’t turn their backs on the people they were meant to be,” or love. It’s a good one I promise. You will fall in love with the Goodnight family and Davy.

7. 

 
As you can see, this is a well worn and loved book. It’s a fantastic twentieth- century mystery. Rachel Verinder inherits a fabulous yellow diamond. Outside her house are Hindu priests who have waited centuries to reclaim their talisman looted from the ancient and Holy city of Somnauth. Someone steals Rachel’s diamond. No one is what they seem and nothing can be taken for granted in this story.”Witnesses, suspects, and detectives take up the story in turn.” The Moonstone is suspenseful and fascinating with a surprise ending no one would guess. This book made me look into more mystery books and the ending is unpredictable. I loved it.

8.  

 
This is an extremely old story written poetically in old English. I think I have read it too many times to count. But you can read the book retold in prose if you wish. Sir Gawain is challenged in King Author’s court, to chop of the Green Knight’s head. If he can’t do it, then the Green Knight will have the chance to chop off Sir Gawain’s head. Sir Gawain fails so he journeys to find a way he can save his own neck. He comes across a Lord and his Lady in their castle, where he breaks from his journey. He is encouraged three times by the Lady to sleep with her, even though she is married and through her, Gawain discovers a way to save his head from the Green Knight, or so he thinks.

9. 

  
Madeline L’engle is a young adult writer I grew up reading. I received this book as a present when I was ten-years-old. It’s about sixteen-year-old Vickie who gets to go with her friend Adam’s Aunt Serena on a trip to Antartica for a birthday present. Not to mention, Vickie’s friend/crush Adam will be working at one of the research stations in Antartica. Vickie discovers many of the people on the trip are not what they seem and her trip turns into an adventure both thrilling and dangerous. I reread this book so many times when I was young. I wanted to be like Vickie and travel. Also, I loved the poetry in the book. It’s superb.

10. 

 
Not a reading book. But a handy book to have as a writer. Once you’re out of English classes you can forget a whole lot of terms you learned to describe in a poem or book. Or, when writing an essay and you need to define what “alliterative” means, it’s all in here. This is probably on the internet now, but it was useful in my English degree and I still use it to this day. 

Thanks for reading. Also, many thanks to La Duchesse D’erat for this weeks list challenge.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Winged Nike


In the silence of the graveyard where Nadia stood, most people would see a statue of an angel, chaste, with arms crossed. But remembering the Art History of sculpture, Nadia could see a goddess. She could picture the statue she was thinking about now. She saw one of the greatest Hellenistic statues carved by the ancient Greeks: The Winged Nike of Somothrace.

Nadia had seen the Nike at the Louvre in Paris. She could imagine the arms (no longer existing) one flung out, the other at the Nike’s mouth, shouting for victory. The Nike had been a part of the Somothrace Temple and had stood on a pedastal, the prow of a ship. She commemerated a great navel battle. The Nike captured both wild momentum and absolute stillness.

Nadia looked with pity on the angel presently. It had no movement or flare. She caused Nadia to feel only heavy misery. Perhaps, the difference was that beneath the angel lay no victory, only a small grave. But if Nadia pictured her daughter, she would rather see the winged goddess Nike and her victory song, then the angel who showed chasteness, covering the grave of a baby who never even cried. 

Word Count: 205 words (sorry!)

 

  

“Winged Nike of Somothrace,” http://www.en.m.wikipedia.org

Thanks to Priceless Joy who is our host for FFfAW.