Saturday Mix: Poem – Bop – “Mysterious Humming” #poetry #saturdaymix #amwriting 


Thanks to Theresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. Today’s prompt is a poem or piece of prose to describe a hummingbird or another creature using unique similes and metaphors. 

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Credit: Eden Hills – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Silent but for humming, sound of wind, 

Whizzing, flying, carbon bubbles sigh

A tune of a melody, light, profound, 

Sweetness of ambrosia nector cries, gold drowns. 

Sleekness and color, bright, bold splashed paint, 

Fast and fleet, wings of bubble bees rate. 

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Flit and flutter, bird or bee dreaming, 

As comets blazing across the sky beam. 

Music created, of soothing toned sweet hums, 

In churches as monks chant matins well sung. 

Soul of being, flash of sight, slight thrumming

Awake in the nostalgia, dreams summoning. 

Such honey, sugared lies, praises so sweet. 

Observing the beating, a golden snitch fleeting

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

Please let me catch you, most superior bird, 

Chirp and chatter with warbling tweet words. 

Catch the bird thrumming, humming his own song, 

Words of a lifetime lift the world prolong. 

Wisdom knows, one cannot catch butterfly clouds, 

Nor humming birds, who flutter profound

Fluttering of bedazzling delight teasing. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Poem: Free Verse –  “Fraility Flailing” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt Frail.

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http://www.nited-academics.org

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We walk the golden path; we’re frail, 

Is there any other way to wander?

No one stronger or wiser left to fight?

But we’ve aged within minutes, 

We forgot to gaze behind us, 

To see what the past left for us;

Wisdom and knowledge with a bloody trail. 

Instead, we’re continuing on a broken path, 

We’re frail, aging humans by the seconds;

Counting our tomorrows,

Before we have them granted.

Not listening to our elders;

Who lost life, limb, peace, to war and grief.

We don’t look skyward to the heavens, 

We watch our own feet tremble.

Stuttering we stumble down the trail.

Dragging our canes and walkers;

We’re riddled with bullet holes.

Wounds we never felt, 

We never gave up our guns;

Never thought what “security,” meant,

For our children and grandchildren.

We’re all exceedingly frail, 

As if we were ancient beings;

We carry their genes but their wisdom, 

We breathe out like carbon.

The hurricane winds blow through our ears, 

Blocking out what we don’t want to hear. 

Truth is a dangerous weapon, 

The truth can change direction.

The truth can smart and hurt, 

Our lungs can barely breathe.

It degrades and humiliates, 

It stings our eyes and it turns, 

Focused vision, to grey static.

The truth it always is revealed, 

Until all we can see is real.

But real has no pertinent meaning, 

When what you’re used to, 

Lies promoted and shouted.

Lies built upon lies, 

More colourful than, 

The Grande Canyon’s layered rock.

We hide behind our lies, 

It makes us distrusting.

Flailing, we cannot believe in anyone;

Not even ourselves to do what’s right.

We cannot elect using logic; 

No true king on this earthly realm, 

To lead us to glory and home.

We don’t even have faith in, 

Our own minds and bodies.

We’re so frail, as paper cranes crushed, 

As tissue paper torn without thought.

We cannot lift our fingers to point, 

To teach unlearning children lessons, 

Before they end up like us.

We’re frail; yet we don’t know the meaning, 

But as assuredly as the world turns, 

Our ashes and dust, 

Will blow away in the wind.

The sands of time keep swirling, 

And we’re growing ever closer, 

To our own cremation;

We think we have forever, 

But our steps are forgotten memories, 

Or thoughts not even the silt of dirt.

Frailty so visible, we lumber around slowly, 

In our slumber losing memories.

We forget to see where yesterday led, 

Blindly we falter and walk where we may;

Into tears, and traps, we’re used, betrayed —

Abused and hopeless.

But we reap what we sew;

Our harvest was distrust and darkness, 

A black-hole eating consuming all good.

We’re frail, until we fall where we walk, 

Because life is faulty and frail too;

And our short time, 

Has been for not;

If we cannot learn from our past, 

See how history repeats no matter the leader.

But we are human, 

So we do not learn, 

Thinking we’re invincible; 

Until the day we’re not.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.