Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Photo Challenge: Poem – La’ Tuine – “Siren No More”


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


monsters
Credit: Ilmari Nen

Bare feet on the earth, pausing for rest,

She’s weary from the the life she lives, just —

A sister to keep her company, it’s tough,

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Burying her face in fragrant earth less,

Her sister find her, cause tussle.

Leave her alone, she’s tired of life’s rust.

Freedom it calls, Siren nor more.


She prays, will the gods release and bless —

Her? Let her be human, lust —

As a woman; not to thirst for blood’s rush.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Her prayers, they’re answered, she’s less —

No longer, living forever, but —

Mortal who can love a man, keep trust.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserve.

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “Home” #poetry #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Mind Loves Misery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo (collage) prompt.

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——–

Autumn was such a time for us, 

Love was fun, nothing dangerous.

Leaves falling deep red, orange, yellow.

Met you walking, strong and mellow. 

Attractiveness found, conversation, tokens.

Hid memories in a box, saved before broken.

——-

Paper boats sailed on peaceful lake, 

Sitting ‘neath trees, in your arms wake.

Photographs you took of me and —

Made me laugh, giggle; life was grand.

Such times we had, you lugging your camera around, 

Pictures of us, many left, they’re here surrounding.

——

Photobooth, and I sat on your —

Lap; laughing again, not sorry.

Your handsome face, so dear to me, 

Making you laugh, my mission, see? 

Making faces in photos in my underwear, 

I knew I could coax out a smile, you loved me bare.

——

Exposed to you, negatives shot,

Our days close, even when we fought.

Knew you well, every smile and frown, 

Wish you were alive, but you drowned.

Now our time is done, my photographer, my love.

All these pictures snapped, thinking of us, our short love.

——

A spritz of the perfume I wore, 

The day we meant, special for —

Not forgetting you now; playing —

Songs we sang, piano keys they say, 

Through music what I could never admit alone,

Autumn was our time, in your arms laying, I was home. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Around the House


Thank you to Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting the Echoes of My Neighbourhood Prompt.

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Today, it’s pictures outside, around my house. Spring hasn’t come about, it’s too early still. And the snow hasn’t stayed (yet). So nature appeares bare. But it’s sunny and not too cold. A cool wind blows, but only a light jacket needed in March is amazing. I’m looking forward to when spring comes at last. My Mom did tell me the tulips were starting to come up at her work. Cheers all! Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Enjoy your Guinness and your “green beer.” Seems to me we need more ‘green’ this time of year! 

——

 

Our Kitchen Window. We have a shelf where we put most of our plants. We always joke with my Mom that. she has a ‘black thumb’ but, her orchids atleast, have bloomed several times.
 
—–

 

Part of the Back Yard. The little arch is beautiful when green leaves cover it from vines in the summer months.
 
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When we moved into this house, my Dad and one brother, did a great deal of work putting in brick/stone flowerbeds and a patio. Again, they. are much nicer when flowers bloom and plants are green.

——-

 

A Birch tree in the upper yard. It drops so many leaves in fall.
 
——

 

Front of our Bungalow. Dad painted the siding a grey-green when we moved in to modenize it. The trees infront of our house have grown awful big!
 
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Another part of the front yard, looking off down the sidewalk.
 
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Speaking of sidewalks, one of my favourite poems is by a poet named Shell Silverstein. My elementary school teachers, used to read us his poetry. My favourite poem by Shell Silverstein is called “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

—–

Where the Sidewalk Ends – Shell Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

——

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

——
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.

——-

(Poem provided by Lady Lee Manila).

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©Mandibelle16.All Rights Reserved.