#OctPoWriMo – Day 8/Sunday Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Through Hope” #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to Scribblersdip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting her collage Prompt with a Sylvia Plath quote, from October 1, 2017. Also today’s OctPoWriMo Day 8 poem is on the prompt of how do you know. 

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Credit: ScribblersDip – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Self discovery questions, 

How do we know, 

What we know? 

How do we find out? 

How do you describe the feeling, 

Of something intangible? 

If someone can’t, 

See the invisible, 

Having faith, or hope of —

All things we know,

That aren’t tactile, visual, 

Or auditory, 

If we’re but certain of the sparks —
In our brains, 

Is attraction or love real? 

Is faith and belief for sure? 

We must sail beyond scientific evidence, 

Beyond the research, the data. 

Believe fairytales and find our —

Joie-de-vivre.

Abstract shocks —

Of beauty and faith, 

Filling in holes with — 

Puzzle pieces. 

We’ll never prove all, 

It’s a choice to decide —

What we are not sure about. 

To be certain of, 

What we don’t see; 

That’s how we know, 

What we know, 

Through hope. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Still Grins On #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF


Skull
A Mixed Bag

Whose skull was this?

Painted with black,

Pagan man with Celtic designs.

Artwork of black paint done with care.

Celtic chains round the chin,

Eyes the deepest black holes,

Examining his head thinking,

Under every living human head,

Lies bones, a skull.

More chains around his forehead,

Celtic chains connecting what?

Fans of decorations highlighting cheeks,

And lines underneath hollow eyes.

Teeth broken, some full and functional.

But some teeth chipped,

Decayed from no tooth brush or paste?

What artist drew on a human skull?

Had he or she no respect for the dead?

But I think this skull we’ve found,

Designed with detail,

In the middle of the Ireland,

Tells a story of a time long ago,

No saying how gentleman skull died.

If he was sacrificed,

Or passed away from illness,

These decorations seem to tell me,

He died a man of a great respect.

I do know he was not so old,

And someone saw value in his bones,

To delicately, with care, design his skull rare.

Perhaps, frightening away the other dead.

Or with an artists eye,

Giving glory and tribute to this man’s remains.

His skull the most valued,

For there sat his brain, where he thought,

Ruled kindly and wisely, a leader,

Before death took his life.

And the painted skull through time,

Still grins on.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.