Three Line Tales: Poem – Synchronicity – “Worth Teeth” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

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Credit: Carson Arias via UnSplash

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It’s called a Lego graveyard,

A container full of beheaded,

Small men —

—–

A variety of pleasant looks,

Others with face’s of ire,

 No heads.

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The girl and boy they build fast,

Tear bodies from heads not knowing, 

Bad thoughts. 

—–

—–

A pile of joy for building kids, 

A sight of horror for parents;

Gold teeth. 

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As Nazi’s removed in death camps, 

Nothing dulls pain of Jewish soul; just —

Worth teeth. 

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A few years ago I saw an excellent movie made by and including George Clooney and some of the regular actors found in his movies — Matt Dameon (etc.) called The Monuments Men. “The film follows an Allied group from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program that is given the task of finding and saving pieces of art and other culturally important items before Nazis destroy or steal them, during World War II (Wikipedia). 

One of the aspects of the film that overwhelmeingly struck me as awful was as these men went into underground mines and other places the Nazi’s hid priceless artwork, were barrels full of teeth with gold fillings that had been pulled from Jewish Concentration camp prisoners. This is just one mote terrible act of numerous actions done to Jewish prisoners slated to die by Nazis in death camps. Upon researching this, I found the practice by Nazi’s to be accurate even within the context of the movie.  I read that in some cases, the Nazi soldiers forced other prisoners to do this job form them and no pain numbing drugs or even alcohol was provided. 

As well, the movie is based on a fictitious novel but the story itself is based off of real life events that are to some extent historically accurate. In the film, these American men who reclaimed the art work left the gold filled teeth and of course that was the right thing to do. Anyways, in my warped mind, those barrels full of gold teeth fillings are what these lego heads reminded me of — sorry for the imagery! 

This article The Monuments Men (2014) compares the movie and the real life Monument’s men. It answers some interesting questions about WWII Nazi History and Hitler’s reasons behind stealing such a wealth of art.  

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reseved. 

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November Notes: Poem – Day 29 – Septolets – “Love Bigger Than The Pines” #poetry #amwriting #novembernotes #music 


Today’s song prompt is “Hunger Of The Pine” by alt-J.

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“Hunger Of The Pine” – alt-J

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Credit: Aspen Snow Photography – http://www.pinterest.com

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Hungry trees, 

Flesh, bone,

Graves for —

Some.

Others, 

Jump from

Branches; they

Fly, liberated. 

Words echoing, 

Clench heart, 

Safe keeping, 

Locked. 

Hungry, 

Thieves, conspiring, 

Evil found, 

Hold me.

—-

Spirits flying, 

Running, screaming, 

Terror finds, 

Us.

Hurdling, 

Uniting bodies, 

Pillows absorbed, 

Warmth’s lack. 

—-

Hungry pines, 

Needles deadly, 

Grabbing greedily, 

Wanting.

This, 

Connection stubborn, 

Maddening laughter, 

Protecting me.

Pine’s hungry, 

We’re quicker, 
Sliding sagely, 

Loving. 

Deeper,

You’ll find, 

Us bends,

Your mind. 

—–


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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Prompt: Poem – Couplets – “Grandma’s Terrible Secret” #amwriting #poetry #writing 


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

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Credit: Andre Gova

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Grandma passed away this year; she, 

Left me to go through her house see —

Everything her life gathered ’round. 

Those last few years, she wasn’t sound. 

She gathered things seemingly odd, 

A variety of objects broad. 

The thing she loved the most was dolls, 

Every room was full of them, dolls —

With their bodies thrown haplessly, 

Heads cut clean, hair removed aptly. 

Such nightmares I’ve had since seeing, 

Dolls heads around her house pleading, 

Wanting to have their bodies back. 

Eyes blinking scarily, sacked —

No found dignity, bald heads gleam. 

In the darkened living room see —

Every eye staring at me, creeps —

Sound of scratching at night, weeping, 

I know not what do with their bodies,

Or heads displayed as trophies sought. 

I hear the sounds they make, they beg, 

Their souls they say away were led. 

Grandma wasn’t merely collecting —

Dolls heads to display and to set, 

Upon her wood mantle to admire. 

Many girls made dolls so expired. 

Collecting young girls made them all —

Dolls she tore apart I’m appalled.

This horrid woman who read me books, 

Where witches were evil, looked —

As hags, disfigured, monsters known, 

I didn’t see how such wholesome —

Looks could hide a beast, a creature —

So evil, I’ve nightmares featuring, 

My lovely Gran, demon concealed. 

I burned her house down so to seal, 

Her evil magic never to —

Live again as long as through —

My own light magic prevent, such —

Wickedness; that which is unjust. 

Will never live again to kill, 

Is dead and gone, and will not kill. 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Silver and Gold” #poetry #amwriting


http://www.thecollegeinvestor.com

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Please Listen Below: 

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​Forged in Silver and Gold,
My legs in Bronze wrapped.

Precious metals, the artist molds.

Silver and Gold; precious and cold.

You never let me attach;

Though you feel my skin,

Your most beloved metal.

The artist in me approves,

As you etch my form, and carve,

The length of my body in Silver and Gold.

The Gold of my hair, burnished with Bronze.

The Silver of my pale skin,

Gemstones for my eyes;

The bluest of Sapphires.

More shadow in the glitter,

Masks the deception we share.

Hides my introspection, pain on the inside,

How you could hurt me?

Sketching my soul?

With your golden hands;

So tanned from your heritage,

Creating art with our beauty.

As the Ancient Greek and Romans,

Perfection in Silver and Gold bodies.

You sketch and you etch,

You carve, curves and sensations,

With Silver and Gold,

Caressing my body,

Destroying my core.

My heart and my soul,

The edge of reason fading,

Quicksilver in my veins draining.

Etching you back,

Silver and Gold, for my chosen;

Highlighting your scars,

Diamond gems bright.

Silver and Gold; until I am old,

My body you fashion in Silver and Gold,

Taking and talking, performance art.

My artfulness; your artfulness,

Mutual thirst, for precious metals slaked.

Ag and Au the atomic symbols,

In movements like music,

Golden pixie dust brightens the air,

Silver dust on my eyelids, your cheeks.

Fly me to the Neverland;

Let’s escape the rabbit holes.

Paint our trail flying in Silver and Gold.

I’ve nothing but my heart,

For you my most precious metal.

Silver, Gold, and gems, your body imparts,

Hoping there is more at your core;

In your heart, and in your soul.

Something warm and soft,

The dust from precious metals as pillows pulled of feathers.

Hurt me not; forget me not,

Love me with your Golden skin.

Your Bronze eyes alight and brilliant;

Silver and Gold, we’ve no control,

When the talk turns to whispers;

We blossom and glisten, sweat beading,

Golden and Silver;

My scars so deep glimmer,

Created to highlight the Silver in my skin.

Of Gold so entranced,

Your enthralling hands;

Touch me and multiply the treasure.

You cannot melt me down;

I’m quicksilver on your tongue,

Solid Silver in your grip;

Trapped by your Bronze eyes.

Silver and Gold, in the rise of sun,

King Midas, his work done.

Silver lips give you a kiss,

Beg for your shimmering touch.

As the sun beats down,

The most Golden light,

Of all the light known,

Creator has granted in Silver and Gold.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

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


http://www.pinterest.com

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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.” 
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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Tankas – “The Killer” 


Thank you to The Daily Prompt for the word prompts DiverseGenerationSurvival, and Vision.

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Angel babe stolen, 

Soundly beneath darkness black.

Dragging our bodies.

Through all this slime, muck outside.

I’ve no vision of life left.

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Diverging  paths cross, 

Which way will he go with two —

Bodies, to manage,

He can’t be seen, it’s vital.

Survival, a thought in mind.

—–

Burying his sins,

His burdens in unmarked graves,

It never should have come —

To him, killing all of them.

Generations vanish.

Diversity in —

This family crossed his —

Moral; Forced to kill, 

Two more bodies in the house.

To haul out to their grave sites.

—–

No night vision, hard —

To see beneath only stars,

Survival of —

Self, most imperative of thoughts.

Looking down, corpses in blankets.

—-

He didn’t like how, 

Cultures intermarried,

Racist man, hater.

Reason enough he thinks to kill, 

Mother, Grandma, Grandpa, baby.

—-

Several generations,

Mixed ethnicities; hateful —

Man; wicked one no —

Rest; killer, murderer of —

Our friends; a demon, evil’s.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Etheree – “Close.” 


  
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So

I go,

And I try,

Understanding,

You won’t give me up,

I’m an addiction — drugs,

Because I deflect questions,

You’ll return, again asking me,

To join in your slumber, these adult games,

To play until twilight and let love,

Breathe life into my hallow lungs, seduce.

—–

These twists and turns we tumble down, in a place,

You’d never remain if you only said,

Join me for a bite, break bread — taste,

Swallow, glasses of Malbec,

Wine with a bite, just right;

Dinner, and a walk.

Conversation.

Know me well

Before,

Bed.

—–

Few

Of You,

Know how to,

Liberate girls,

From thoughts that burn,

Making a woman’s mind,

A confusing place to be,

Relaxation and some talk,

Cease, winding of the wheels spinning; laugh.

Slow the pace, be merciful gent,

Appreciating, discovering, 

Not only for bodies, but minds must mingle well.

—–

Luxuriate in breathing in her soul, herself.

Listen well and inform about yourself,

Slide into stolen glances lost,

Powerful bonds caught, connect you.

Lips licked before a kiss sought,

Arms at length hold fast,

Minds connect so,

Enthralling,

Remain,

Close

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.