Tale Weavers/Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Stardust Love” #amwritingpoetry #TaleWeavers #PhotoChallenge


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weaver’s on the concept of night or the evening. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge.


Credit: WeHeartIt


Starry night, veil across smooth skin.

The evening tide arrives,

Darkness rides on velvet wings of charcoal-black.

A midnight hour lit with dreams,

Stars that glisten and glitter;

The star of all stars shines truest.

Jewel of golden light, snarled in a crown of thorns.

Hope of tomorrow, every child, & every person passed;

For ages awaiting an infant mild.

Mirth in the twilight, the evening passes,

With brushes and paint,

A muse of mystery and dancing light, crosses the canvas of your skin.

A rare and glorious place,

Where painted medium engraves each curve.

The dip of your back, shoulder blades relaxed.

Breath respired as the paint dries; the lense snaps your beauty.

A Vangoghesque masterpiece, and the light of a brilliant star.

Our Christmas miracle in a moment,

For now, left adrift by the pendulum of time.

A lover’s dusk for —

I with my brushes and cherished paints;

You humming centuries old melodies.

A Holy night, Angels crying glory, as Three Kings journey.

Miracle in a stable; thus, miracles for mere humans.

They’re what we breathe and live,

Blessed in evening tide,

With stardust love;

Gloria Excelsis Deo.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Guardian Angels #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Sunyana – http://www.moipenseive.com

——-

I marvelled at the set of angel lights at the the beginning of each block, with another set of angels at the end, as I joined my friends at a pub. 

It seemed right these angels should be here, watching over the revelry. As I later walked a block down in the early morning hours to catch a cab, I recalled my thoughts on angels as child. 

Sometimes I had nightmares and I was too afraid to fall asleep. My Mom told me not to worry because God’s angels were always watching over me. Still, I looked to the corners of my room afraid because the corners were the darkest places. 

Eventually, I began to imagine angels were there in these corners guarding me as I slept. If I woke up afraid I’d look to the corners of my bedroom ceiling and feel safe. Sometimes I dreamed I could see these celestial beings watching over me. 

Going home that night in the cab I gazed at the angels made of lights, four of them guarding a street; I hoped the night ended safely for all. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Writing Prompt: Poem – Villanelle – “Becoming ‘The Angel In The House’.” #amwriting #poetry #victorianera 


Thank you to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Villanelle writing prompt this week.

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Credit: http://www.webexhibits.org – Italian School, The Rustic Concert, The Song

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Teach us teacher, we’re ready to learn,

We’re here to fill our minds, wonder blooming. 

For learning’s life’s opportunities earned.

Oh what problems will we learn to discern? 

Reading, poise, religion; house ‘angels’ singing, 

Teach us teacher, we’re ready to learn. 

How should we serve tea? Keep house, give birth, turn —

On those not good enough? Not with us ranking. 

For learning’s life’s opportunities earned. 

Should our daughters be haughty and learn —

Their goal (as ours), to marry well praying, 

Teach us teacher, we’re ready to learn.

Are we moral centers? Ignoring sperns, 

Spouse with many beds, mistresses stringing. 

For learning’s life’s opportunities earned. 

Our value, our husband, children, in turn —

Their children, their marriages bliss bringing? 

Teach us teacher, we’re ready to learn, 

For learning’s life’s opportunities earned.

—–

Credit: Crosscurrents Writing Gender – Quote from Virginia Woolf
 

—–

Villanelle

A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa.
The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).”

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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


http://www.pinterest.com

——–

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

Writing 101: Poem – Etherees – “The Mark” #everydayinspiration


Today’s prompt is to use a quote to begin our writing.

———

The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved.  – Samual Smiles

———

Such goals we have to not miss the giant mark, 

To accomplish though we faulter and–

Find ourselves falling of the mark short.

My gaze has set upon the hill,

My determination —

Evident and, 

Perspiration,

Relevant.

Crying, 

March.

—-

I,

Will not —

Let failure,

Tarnish my–

Intent to triumph,

Strength, running through my bones,

Sweat upon my brow and I, 

Reach for that set goal growing still,

Never going to give, can’t alleviate —

The pain I meet, my struggle with heart.

—–

There is no distance I won’t go, no path–

My sword won’t clear the way, lashing through,

Knowing my own virtue isn’t,

Worth a mercenary,

Heart of one who cannot,

Taste the wine which is,

His life’s blood met, 

Breaking bread and,

Fighting on,

Life is, 

Tough.

—-

Goal, 

In my, 

Grasp I, 

Keep winning,

There is no place to —

Wander of path I’m kept, 

Focused on the prize before —

I am confused by life’s debris,

Keep up the challenge, the struggle,

Never fear, blessed angels fight with you to end.

—–

No weakness in my lungs, battle cries are —

Rung; an invading army charges through,

Not pierced by arrows or swords of,

Finest sharpest metals mixed,

Alloys fit to strike wrath,

Life is a fight won, 

It’s hard to breathe.

Even stabbed we,

Triumph.

At last, 

Rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rughts Reserved.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Index – “Remembring in Cold”


img_1070

Finally, our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

For further information please see NaPoWriMo. My source is The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors, 7th Ed.

——

About sufferring they were never wrong,

A little black thing among the snow,

I sit wondering if there is somewhere that is home.

Ah! changed and cold, how changed and very cold!

I’m merely looking for a warm place to sleep,

To dream of Air and Angels, not to experience bitter frost,

I’m An old, mad, blind, despised,and dying King,

Every where around the world I have seen,

—–

In control of my own life, remembering —

  A women’s face with Nature’s own hand painted.

I miss my Queen, Behold her, single in the field.

She’s gone on even when I cried:

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy.

But I jest, I could not stop her death,

Now I sit here in this park praying,

Come down, O Christ, and help me! Reach thy hand,

But this Darkling Thrush is on his own so frozen, he is burning hot,

——-

Seeing her: Drink to me only with thine eyes Faerie Queene, 

Farewell: thou art to dear for my possessing.

My Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,

There is a Folly of Being Comforted by your memories,

I Go and Catch A Falling Star in the bitter night,

Hoping it will warm these decaying bones,

Life went by quickly, so many Good-Morrows,

Those who know me would say:

He never expected much only prayed — A Hollow M[a]n, 

How vainly me themselves amaze.

—–

[I] would drink by myself had I some money,

I have no name I would think, as I Look into my Glass,

In this strange labyrinth [of life] how shall I turn?

Oh Rose, thou art sick, I couldn’t save you,

O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being return,

I’ve been trapped in winter so long, I forget, in Pains of Sleep,

Past and Present, blur together and Splendor Falls,

I’m Standing aloof in giant ignorance,

Starlight night, the only warmth, as my breath shows in the cold.

——-

Ten years ago it seemed impossible,

That the world, my loved ones, would forget me,

The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

They say that hope is happiness and you and me will be together soon,

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon,

[I am the] Hollow [man]; Weep with me, all that you read,

You that with allegory’s curious frame, 

Don’t miss me, as in the night I freeze,

Thoughts ventured to her,

Why should I blame her she filled my days,

And so it seems she fills, my heavenly thoughts, at rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Quatrains – “Fight and Fly”


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt fight.

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Flying Birds
http://www.pinterest.com

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Troubled pearl, thoughts awhirl,

Spinning fast, life makes you hurl,

Never stops, never just right.

Make your own moments, win that fight.

—–

Sifting sands go through my hands.

Spheres off beaches, white grande.

Dreams of blue water, clear and dense,

Without sharks, that makes sense.

—-

Sharks of land so much sicker,

Make a woman fear as life flickers,

Red red roses, blood dripping down,

Trickling lifelessness without a sound,

—-

Daggers thrust in open hearts,

No one goes far, not able to start.

Words of fear and words said in haste,

Looks like living, isn’t chaste.

—–

Tricked clever, by events out of control,

Lessons learned from life’s list of roles.

Talking quietly, whispering secrets;

Who needs those words — awful secrets.

—-

Blazing eyes go forth and vent,

Tell me the way to happiness, invent —

New ways to find strength, and flight

Don’t you know the best way, fight.

—-

Hidden hands, bowed in prayer,

Why is life so utterly tinged, `beware,`

Go the way angels do, dive in blue skys,

Flutter with purpose, learn to fly.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Ghazal – “Lips Soft”


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the word prompt drop.

——

Pleasing words dripping from cherub lips, soft.

Can you hear the words sipped from eyes, lips soft.

Distant, to ears, I peer, seeing angels here.

Voicing shadows, tiny wisps, from your lips soft.

The space between us too great, falling for you.

Instigation, not my choice, gripping, lips soft.

Movement slowing showing, spitting out love.

Nearing, frustration, sipping, lips soft.

Nights turn to days, skin all ablaze.

In the end kissing, your lisp, lips soft.

Covers crumpled, rumpled under us.

Hands reaching, touch while you sip tea, lips soft.

Repeating in hours, time flies, skin brushing skin.

Mesmerized, your face slips, lips soft.

Two of us as one, adventurous night.

Never tiring of words you whisper, lips soft.

Dropping, causing moments passing,

You dropped me, snipping our love, lips soft.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101 – Magic – ” Christmas Joy “


I have chosen each gift and I’ve done so carefully. I hope you like them and use it to treat yourself.

I have written down each name on tags of gold that gleam. I’ve tied on the tags with ribbon that glitters in red beam.

Every present inside the gift bags are wrapped in gold and silver wrapping paper. Or placed gently within tissue paper, of Christmas colours galore.

And tissue paper light as a feather is leaning out of every gift bag. In a crushed rose of tissue colour, in gift bags that are special;

This year there’s a reindeer theme and their is plaid and reindeer horns used; for every good girl and boy, there is the finest chocolate to ever coat your tongue.

There are your favourite presents, the ones you hoped you’d find. There are also receipts should you change your mind.

And the Christmas lights shine white and glow off ribbons of red and gold. And angels made of crystal and glass dance on green branches soft.

And balls of deep-red and gold float inside the tree, while scenes of the nativity fill gaps inbetween.The Christmas Eve night has been set, and the presents rest beneath the tree.

We are only waiting for the night of magic to come. Peace on earth goodwill towards all, health and happiness abound.

We are only pausing but for the coming of a Saviour, Christmas Joy. We are looking forward to the Nativity where something unexpected happened.

Where a baby boy who was a heavenly King came to live among the poor and meek. While humanity expected a regal birth.

He showed us all that joy comes not from expectations, from silver, gold, or expensive things — joy comes from within, in your heart and it believes.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.