Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Italian Sonnet “The Holiday Spirit” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction¬†


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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(Written Christmas Day)

Though times they change and we move on in life, 

We cannot say at Christmas, we’re not blessed

Food to eat, fine company, we confess —

To much chocolate, many sweets, little strife; 

Compared to the state of many a place ripe, 

With destruction, death, such hate which festers

To much is wrong, but be at peace nonetheless. 

His time draws near, have cheer; lasting hurt wiped. 

Peace on earth, goodwill to all mankind, let’s —

Be kind to our neighbours and remember to share, 

Life is tough, let no one be in despair

Let us share the good news, for He is born set —

Healing broken hearts and pains of the past bled, 

Great physician who taught, love each other, care

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo – Day 30/31 – Senryu – “Eternity for Real” #amwriting #poetry #religion #christianity #faith


Day 31 Prompt: Eternal

“When I think of eternal, I think there isn’t much that is eternal, at least not on this earth. When I wrote this prompt, I believe I was thinking how even though OctPoWriMo is coming to an end, our words are forever – what we wrote during this month and beyond. What does eternal mean to you?” 
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“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.” –John 5:24

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http://www.pinterest.com
 

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Time on earth is done, 
When my body is only, 
An Empty vessel. 

——–

Then shall eternity —

Begin; time will not matter. 

For all those gone on. 

——

Time on earth, linear, 

Comprehend forever, 

It’s hard imagining.

——-

What forever is, 

What it looks like and feels like, 

Who the maker is? 

—–

Death is frightening, 

Even in sleep, will it hurt? 

Where does our soul go? 

——-

This is why I think, 

Believing in God is wise, 

We can worry less.

——-

Perhaps worry not —

At all; because we know what —

The otherside will bring.

——-

Many say we’re wrong, 

There’s no heaven, there’s no hell.

I learned fear of God.

—–

Not that we should be —

Afraid of benevolent —

King; but his word speaks. 

—–

Gives us hope for life, 

Eternal in Jesus dying for —

Everything done wrong.

——

We’re not perfect and —

We never will be, we can’t 

Keep the Ten Commandments. 

——

Fulfilling God’s law, 

Impossible to achieve, 

So he sent Jesus.

——

He hung on a cross, 

Cruxifician painful, bled. 

He died went to Hell.

——

Defeated devil, 

Defeated death and the grave, 

So with him remain.

——

When our death comes there —

Is no sting, because those who —

Have faith, believe — live.

—–

That is eternity, 

Heaven with God, better than —

Our wildest dreams. 

——

Forgiveness of sin, 

Becoming perfect beings, 

Paradise for real. 

——-

Thank you for following me for #OctPoWriMo. Sorry, I’m behind on my usual prompts! I will catch up and am following a new themed daily prompt for November. Stay tuned ūüôā 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016)All Rights Reserved.

Poem: A L’Arora – “The Wanderer Who Yearned”


Thank you to The Daily Post for the prompt words Natural and Struggle.


wander-the-world
http://www.thechangeblog.com

A wanderer navigates far on her journey,

She traipses from stars luminous in ink darkness,

Across natural hill she can’t not climb,

In lush valleys sleeping, dreams whispering in,

Travelling far, in-between, in the world down below,

Knowing not peace; restless she artfully treads,

Breathing the life, new civilizations she learns,

Tracing the moon, it dips to to her hands; she treads.


Wanderlust a vise; no peace yet, no worry,

In the sky’s plashless flamingo pink, fire orange stark;

Tranquility masked, in the eyes of young and old; she finds —

Wisdom in their tongues so foreign, not to her akin;

Grass, scented sharp and fragrant; an afternoon’s soft pillow,

She shares not, a fear of ‘what’s out there;’ no dread,

Roaming each day, hopping off trains, nothing her concerns;

Inscrutability of the world hails; she goes wherever, not knowing dread.


In Paris, she didn’t bother climbing the Eiffel Tower leery,

Of crowds, and people overwhelming; she’s a lark,

Free spirit, sweet melodies trailing; requires space to fly, to find —

Her life abroad, journeying towards the sun as it sets in Berlin.

Abundance of pints in Germanic territory; laughter she borrows,

A smorgasbord of people, faces to greet before bed.

Memories composed  in songs of the moments; she burns —

Companionship,she’s persuaded; singed remnants in bed.


Through Italy and Greece she did not falter, clearly —

Used to travelling trails, which ever road ingenuity sparked.

Nothing, exquisite as midnight’s blackness, in her mind,

The ruins of Ancient Greece in Athens alight; interlude in Santorini.

Riches of Rome, what need has God of golden sorrows?

A few nights idle, in soft hotel bed; relaxation as she read,

Of home, the place she missed the most; yet she yearned —

Struggling within; wanting more of the world, of new places read.


Climbing the Alps; mountains so high, a drop shear;

Below the air, not but wind, as she embarked.

Her mind in the beaches of Spain white; now resigned.

Searching forever, not to discover, real truths in the wind,

Traversing, strong, full of vitality; healthy to the core.

Until her ankle, tottered over, with a sprain and scratches bled.

Relishing in the Netherlands, a peaceful place to learn.

Sleeping in, and delighted to pause; until scratches never bled.


Of Nova Scotia’s Atlantic ice cold waters clear,

She gazed on architecture as Europe’s in Quebec, and parks,

Of pristine nature, trees, and flowers; but nature’s blind,

To the tumult of thought occurring inside her; she’s on a tailspin —

To Australia’s Opera House in Canberra; heart sore–

Journeying in the Outback; most treacherous place led,

By tour guides; and journeying in Melbourne earned,

Photographs caught on Instagram; further travels led.


Down to the Dominican, all inclusive; drinking slush and beer,

Reacting as she roamed where Inca’s lived, Mexican landmarks,

Insider herself, she perceived a need to still her being, and find,

Her place in a multicultural earth; her home, she grinned —

Such knowledge absorbed; little she knew, remaining ashore.

 Determining home, in the vast open prairies she once fled,

Traversing infinitely; it was a greed which no longer in her burned.

Home in her heart; she soars, a new trail found, where she before fled.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

Poem: Free Verse – “A Scream” #amwriting #scream #horror #poetry


I have been watching this Scream series, done by Netflix, loosely based on the Scream horror films from when I was a teenager. The show is pretty decent. It has interesting characters with more depth because you can do that with episodes as opposed to movies. As well, the creators are able to string the plot out, giving the episodes more meat that way. It remains a typical teen horror genre show, as the movies were, but I enjoy it. Maybe it’s nastelgia, or maybe it’s knowing most of the main characters are going to get killed off. But exactly how? And when? 

The poem below is loosely based off of the Netflix series.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com

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Life’s a scream,You may not find much, you can redeem.
When life’s a scream,

The parties, drinking, people becoming obscene.

And life’s a scream,

You may not find, the pearl in the center of your dreams.

Life’s a scream, 

But I find this horror genre a has been,

Life’s a scream,

In the day, the conversation ebbs and sways; I lean,

On sidewalk cracks and think, life’s a scream,

Unless you’re out of your mind trying not to bleed.

A wound from your soul; life’s a scream,

When were caught in-between, the middle and the end scene.

Yes, life’s a scream,

The killer lurking, ending all our dreams.

But people keep on saying, ” Life’s a scream.”

Yet, it’s only madness; ripped out seams;

Here’s to everything; life’s a scream,

In the end, a dark blank screen. 

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Literary Lion: Bleeding Out to Live


There are several ways to bleed all over the place in life. There is bleeding in the truest sense of the word — red blood dripping. But bleeding can be a wonderful thing in painting when certain colours bleed together in the presence of water it can be beautiful in the extreme. But these types of bleeding are not just good and bad in themselves. Sometimes bleeding colours together in painting can ruin the painting but bleeding in the sense of blood can clot your wound together and heal you.

I have spent the past week in hospital. You see when I was 23-years-old I had a psychotic episode. Although that has healed the depression and especially chronic fatigue from this episode or which caused it, or a bleeding cut across my life. After many sleepless nights and increasing a sleep medication called gabapentin I have finally stopped making the cut deeper and will not be taking the medication anymore.

Tonight, I start a drug called clozapine and I’m really scared that it will make the colours of my life bleed together, that I will injure myself. But there’s the chance that I could create beautiful colours and heal wounds through this medication. It is an antipsychotic that will allow me to sleep well and eventually replace a drug called rispirdone and one called bromcriptine. 

It’s a bit scary at first staying in hospital, you have to wear the hospital pajama’s for eight hours, sleep in an uncomfortable bed, eat weird food, and you don’t get your stuff in psych until it has all been approved. They keep your phones locked for safety as well as razors or nail clippers or anything you need to plug in. You don’t feel yourself until you get your stuff back, alter your food, take your first shower with your own hair products. Then it’s not so bad.

Though I bled at first I will heal and although things were a mess I can see the way to healing and to a picture of a life with fantastic colours bleeding into each other.

Thanks to I am Smith!