Current Events, Event, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 2 – Poem: Free Verse – “Of Terror & The Dying” #amwriting #poetry #yegstrong #vegasshooting 


Welcome to OctPoWrMo Day 2 . I’ll be going back to Day 1. But today’s prompt was writing what we must. And this is what resulted, sorry to begin with the topic isn’t light. 

It’s inspired by two events the Las Vegas Shooting and terrorist events in Alberta, Canada. 

——–

Credit: Ian Dooley via Unsplash
——–
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot. 

I wish you didn’t feel the need, 

To take others with you to the grave. 

I wish you knew your pain, 

Was a problem that could’ve been helped, 

If wish you had only asked. 

I wish you weren’t indoctrinated

That morals halted your, 

Urge to kill and wound hundreds. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

I wish that you’d stopped yourself. 

Thought of the consequences, 

I wish you’d had empathy. 

Realized everyone feels pain as you did, 

That all people have things in their life, 

That wound and maim them, 

Throughout life’s winding road; 

We all feel internal pain, brokenness sometimes. 

But others chose better coping methods, 

Not to go about their wicked way, 

Taking global humanity to their knees. 

*****
I wish you didn’t kill, 

I wish you didn’t shoot. 

I wish you didn’t choose chaos, 

That you chose understanding —

Not violence. 

I wish you knew all the family’s hurting, 

How your pain became more than your victims, 

More than the wounded and the dead. 

I wish you knew how you maimed everyone —

On scene, through the online world. 

How guns are so destructive, 

When they’re attained so easily to murder. 

That blood flows, when gunshot wounds, 

Cause suffering. 

That men and women are lying dead, 

Having lost their lives too early. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

Because other people will emulate you. 

They will think your selfish choice, 

Is the right path for them too. 

I hate that you had to take, 

So many others with you. 

That you didn’t comprehend, 

The sanctity of life. 

It’s ever so valuable, beyond twisted beliefs, 

Your inner turmoil — whatever it was, 

More than the false reasons, 

You believed gave your actions merit.  

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you would shoot, 

I wish a place of celebration, 

A place of respite and vacation, 

Did not become a mass murdering location; 

But it did, all because of you. 

I hate that you can’t hear, 

The moans of the people you hurt. 

That you can’t look them in the eye, 

And see the their tears, their horror. 

I hate that you don’t see, 

Children who’ve lost parents. 

I hate that you did not realize, 

Your actions harmed and injured many. 

It makes me sick that you were okay, 

With this awful outcome, 

Of being a grim reaper. 

I hate that you probably, 

Wouldn’t have cared, 

Even if your cowardly death, 

Hadn’t worked. 

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill,

I wish you wouldn’t shoot. 

That the pandemonium and suffering, 

Your victims felt and discovered, 

Is something you didn’t experience on earth. 

I’m so angry that men like you, 

Choose weapons too available, to harm others. 

I’m so angry you ruined so many lives, 

I’m so angry you made a place, 

That once felt safe, 

Into a terrifying war zone. 

I’m so angry that the country, 

You caused your mayhem in, 

Has far too many gun related deaths. 

And I don’t know how to stop men like you, 

How a right to bear arms, 

Oversteps someone else’s right to live,

I can’t comprehend; 

But I heard the screams, the peppering of bullets, 

And it makes me want to cry. 

So upset you were okay with, 

The consequences of a heartless choice. 

That your inner demons, 

Got the best of you, 

In such a malevolent way.  

*****
I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t stab. 

I watched a terrorist ram a policemen’s car, 

Saw the policeman soar into the air, 

But he hadn’t any wings, 

For he was merely human. 

I watched you stab him too many times, 

And he was only doing his job. 

While another mad man, 

Ran down others. 

Tried to hurt them too.

And I wish you wouldn’t slice, 

Let blood trickle and flow. 

I wish you wouldn’t use a truck, 

As a weapon to injure, cause pain. 

But I cannot see into your mind, 

And I don’t know that anyone, 

Could have changed all your minds.

All I know is you all didn’t listen, 

To the conscience inside your head. 

All I know is your method of damage, 

Was a choice to do evil. 

*****

I wish you wouldn’t kill, 

I wish you wouldn’t shoot, 

That you’d dealt with your own turmoil, 

In a vastly improved method. 

I know that many people think, 

All people are generally good. 

But few realize being a good is a choice;

We’re not made that way, 

We learn to be good people. 

And too many choose to twist what’s good. 

And commit acts that are selfish and evil.

To many acts of terror, 

By lone men or terrorists. 

Too many opportunities, 

With access to weapons, 

Knives and guns, 

Defend your family as you must, 

But make it harder, 

So random men can’t do their evil,

Wound hundreds with bullets, 

In blood drenched mass murder. 

I wish you wouldn’t choose to kill, 

So we don’t hear the screams, the suffering, the dying, 

So the images don’t haunt us. 

Because it’s sickening that ever day people, 

Who appear like me you and me, 

Have a monster residing within them, 

Have made the choice to murder.

*****
I wish they wouldn’t kill, 

I wish they wouldn’t shoot, 

But I can’t see what was inside their minds. 

Because they looked like everyone else, 

Not a demon, a Lord Voldemort, or a Freddy Kruger. 

All I can send is my prayers to the broken, 

Those mourning and terrified. 

All I know is that some people choose, 

To be good people, 

And I have faith in God and them. 

All I know is that in the end, 

God will give every person justice, 

Justice that is eternal and right. 

And that someday on earth, 

We must learn to forgive

Not to become monsters, 

So we don’t commit terrifying evil too. 

*****

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved 

dVerse, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “Winged Hope” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 29, 2017. Also, thanks to Paul Scribbles of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting a poetry prompt on magic

——–

Credit: Jade M. Wong – FFftAW

——–

Art bleeds, 

Nobody’s seen before —

Winged ring,

Mortally wounded.  

Some kids arrows —

Embedded. 

Forever trickling,  

Whenever someone’s — 

Dying. 

Knives, gunshots wounds. 

Whether they’re sick —

On pain medication. 

Or dead in sleep.

Winged circle bleeds, 

For generations. 

Weeping blood,

For death is —

Constant. 

Yet in darkness, 

Gleams old magic, 

Hope’s recourse, 

Heals. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Relationship, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: A Thousand Was Not Enough #fiction #amwriting #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Dev Benjamin via Unsplash

———-

Scattered in vivacious colors, a thousand was not enough, but would’ve a thousand paper cranes healed you, done anything? I guess they weren’t for you, they were for me, to keep my hands busy as your eyes glassed over and the pain meds kicked in; they stopped me from crying out from asking, why you didn’t even try to heal, for you, for me. I leaned over your bedside the paper cranes around us and you gave me a half grin with your dimpled cheek, somehow there when all other reserves of flesh were gone; then you were gone before I could  memorize your last smile. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Wrapped Refrain, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “For the Little” #amwriting #poetry #taleweaver


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weaver’s Prompt August 10, 2017. The prompt has to do with birth

———-

JV Garcia via UnSplash

——–

Or lives may fade, flicker out,

Although time is short, new youth shout. 

Wild being young; then mellow, 

As life reaches end, they’ll bellow. 

At death’s cruelty at snatching, 

Their loved ones stolen before their time, thus grasped —

Death doing his duty, aiding the sick to pass. 

——

In grief we forget they’re two sides, 

More than death, new life born crying.

Lusty wales, that mother’s yearn —

To hear when their baby’s have learned, 

Peace in the womb, is no longer.

Time to live, greet both Dad and Mom; 

Promise of life, legacy in children cherished, 

We all die, but we also train the youth and build them. 

——

As necessary as death, is —

Our sweet infants crying so hard. 

Swaddled, held close, loved with full hearts, 

Provided best, us making do —

With the old, ensuring kids have food. 

All their needs, some wants, so they know they too belong. 

Not spoiling, letting them control, but nurturing strong. 

—–

So baby held within my arms, 

I promise you, here there’s no harm. 

As a babe and child, I can keep —

You safe, but you’ll grow learning; sweets —

Too many you’ ll become ill and keen

You don’t listen, life can be mean — 

It’s no piece of cake; but I’ll let you be little, although —

You’ll hate me; life has enough time for forgiveness too. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Peddling Back to Life #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to the lovely Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 8th, 2017 Edition. 

——-

Credit: Dorothy

———

Mike peddled with little effort yet his face was dripping sweat as a hot candle dripping wax. Each peddling motion on the tandem bike was agony.

“We have to stop, Tommy.”

“Nope, I promised you we’d get you fit.”

“What if I don’t want that? And why hills?”

“Hills are the best for doing intervals which burn fat better.”

“Who cares?”

Tommy frowned. “I care because I’m your brother.  I realize you’ve been depressed, that finding the right medication has caused you significant weight gain.”

“I also know antidepressants make you extra hungry and that eating makes you feel better since Beth’s death.”

Mike halted the tandem bicycle. “Don’t ever talk about her.”

“I will, someone needs to tell you the facts. The Doctor phoned you and I answered your phone, thinking it was important.”

“I was right. The Doctor’s concerned your blood pressure has skyrocketed. He says you’re quite obese and that if you don’t eat well and exercise you’ll get diabetes.”

Mike growled, turning to glare at Tommy behind him. 

Tommy shoved him. “The Doctor told me so I could help you. Beth chose death so your healthy daughter could live. Tira is two and being raised by her grandparents. That isn’t right.”

“I’m in no shape to raise, Tira.”

“That’s sad. Remember your therapist said, in our family session, that most of your problems are set behaviors, that can be altered? Depression isn’t to blame for everything.”

Mike shook his head, disagreeing. 

“I’ll help you, Mike. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Todsy’s day one, right?”

Tommy grinned, “Yep, and stop whining. I’m doing most of the peddling, not you.”

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Bop - 6 lines, refrain, 8 lines, refrain, 6 lines, refrain, dVerse, History, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem: Bop – “For A Spark” #poetry #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Paul Scribbles of Poet’s Pub for hosting the #dVerse prompt on “the end.” 

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Credit: Roksolana Zasiadko via Unsplash

——–

The end is never the end. It’s always the the beginning of something.” ― Kate Lord Brown, The Perfume Garden

——-

There once was a beginning, but for us, I think;

We never were, until we were, created in a blink.

Once upon a time there was the Word, 

The Word was God; It was with Him to be heard. 

All was darkness but the Word was the light 

The Word was the cure, it was omniscient insight.

Every spark becomes darkness, but His fire brings dawn. 

In the first beginning, his light lit uncountable sparks, 

That eternal, all-knowing ‘start’ burning through the dark. 

Where beginnings take place; journeys are revealed, 

Where life is born, ideas form, the masked are unconcealed. 

Beginings that inspire and conspire to grow and leap,  

Sparks choosing to expire, or to burn on in the deep.

There is the ‘lighter’ of the spark and the ‘spark’ itself;

Knowledge too that sparks turned cinders, have eternal help. 

Every spark become darkness, but His spark brings dawn. 

Who knows of endings but that they’re already won, 

The ‘Candle-snuffer’ futile fights, his end already come.  

He decided his ending forever, when our spark was new, 

He’s the one temptation slithered, damnation to all construed. 

The eternal light is present, no cinders who ask will end up ash, 

Faith is fuel that forever burns, so the term ‘end’ has passed.   

Every spark becomes darkness, but His spark brings dawns. 

 ——–

©Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


Current Events, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Views on Death by Emily Dickinson and John Donne #amwriting #poetry #JohnDonne #EmilyDickinson 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver’s Prompt based on the figure of death. Emily Dickinson’s poem “I could not stop for Death” and John Donne’s Holy Sonnet – “Death Be Not Proud” seem to say exactly what needs to be said for me on the prompt. And whatever I do, I can’t think of something I could say better than these poets due regardimg the personification of death. Please enjoy!

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Credit: Google images for Reuse

Credit: Google Images for Re-Use

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1. Because I could not stop for Death (479)

By Emily Dickinson, (1830 – 1886)

http://www.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

 Because I could not stop for Death – 

He kindly stopped for me –  

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  

And Immortality.

*****

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility – 

*****

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –  

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –  

We passed the Setting Sun – 

*****

Or rather – He passed us – 

The Dews drew quivering and chill – 

For only Gossamer, my Gown – 

My Tippet – only Tulle – 

*****

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground – 

The Roof was scarcely visible – 

The Cornice – in the Ground – 

*****

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads 

Were toward Eternity – 

*****

(www.poets.org)

———

Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud

BY JOHN DONNE

wwww.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee 

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; 

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow 

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. 

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, 

And soonest our best men with thee do go, 

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. 

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, 

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally 

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. 

*****

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, History, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Lies to Tempt Lies” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftW.

——-

Credit: Kecia Sparlin

——–

“So saying, her rash hand in evil hour [ 780 ]

Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck’d, she eat:

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat

Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe,

That all was lost. Back to the Thicket slunk

The guiltie Serpent, and well might, for Eve [ 785 ]

Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else

Regarded, such delight till then, as seemd,

In Fruit she never tasted, whether true

Or fansied so, through expectation high

Of knowledg, nor was God-head from her thought. [ 790 ]

Greedily she ingorg’d without restraint,

And knew not eating Death: Satiate at length,

And hight’nd as with Wine, jocond and boon,

Thus to her self she pleasingly began.” – Paradise Lost (XIV. 780 – 794). 

———-

“Such fruit is sweet scrumpciously divine, 

No better you’ll ever taste, dripping, 

From your most beautiful lips lick, 

Every last taste, let not on your face lie. 

Taste, devour, Lotus flower’s guided, 

To the mouths of pagan gods, and rip —

All flesh from this heavenly fruit sip.

For such knowledge it gives, opening eyes, 

Now you’ll see;” the serpent slithered past, 

Back to the thicket slunk, lies and tricks —

Enough to make dear, Eve, believe lies, 

A talking snake had ate the fruit, so she —

Ate, since the snake conversed; not seeing the facts, 

Black Serpent granted humanity dark death.  

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Synchronicity Poetry - 8,8,2, -- surprise ending last 2 stanzas, Writing

Photo Challenge: Poem – Synchronocity – “Art Hell” #amwriting #poetry 


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

——–

Credit: Kyla @ Deviantart

——–

I’m a vivid monument, 

I’m his lover cruelly tricked, 

Just art. 

——

Result of magic powerful, 

A priest with such evil intent,

Wounds me. 

—–

For I had thought the toxic paint,

That burned my skin would kill me,

I wished.

——-

I only pass out the priest laughs, 

Eyes glinting, evil smile, tells me —

“Enjoy.”

—–

For this was my punishment,

Tempting our ‘leader’ with my love, 

Trapped now. 

—–

Not quite alive, not quite so dead,

My man, the leader, loves artwork, 

He stares.

—–

I wonder if he recognizes,

A shadow of his beloved gone, 

Each night. 
—–

He comes with pain others cannot —

Ever see; I could’ve been his, 

Soft place. 

—–

Never can I speak, the priest’s curse, 

Ensured silence, a spell took —

My voice.

—–

—–

I pray to God help me find —

My love jumps as my voice cries,

Returned. 

——

Becomes aghast, furious, 

He thinks me a dream I tell him,

The truth. 

—-

Our stories, our love, a life —

We’d planned and he listens,

With tears.

—–

Then such rage summoning priest,

Who is forced to repair me from this, 

Art hell.

——

I’m taken from between life and —

Death; restored to my former self, 

I’m saved.

—–

My hero never gave up on —

Me; didn’t believe I ran, now 

We’re us.

—-

Priest I have no knowledge of, 

My guy, our leader was enraged, 

Priest dead? 

—-

Or suffering hell as I?  

Two years in art trapped, lost; 

Now free.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 25 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Writing Prompt: Poem – Cascading Etherees — “The Urn, Death, and the Light” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #WritingChallenge 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is a “challenge you to write a poem that explores a small, defined space.” For A to Z Challenge the GoodRead’s Quote author has a name beginning with letter V. Im going two work in the Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Prompt from last week of a letter to death

——–

Credit: Tomb of Wayfaring Soul

———

It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

———

Such a tiny space I’ve ended in,

No satin lining, pillow, or light. 

Shelved next to others kept, 

Hear in this wall, directed, 

The family not to pay for, 

More than an urn, 

But why, ask I, 

Am I in, 

This wall, 

Left.

—–

It’s, 

Easy,

To understand, 

You didn’t want me —

Reminding  you, who I —

Used to be alive and whole. 

That my ashes in an urn could,

Easily fall, ending up on the floor. 

I’m wondering death, if you laugh at this? 

——

If you comprehend my annoyance clear, 

That my ashes weren’t scattered far  —

Into the park, the Off-leash trails, 

Or into the water, 

To a place of peace. 

No walls for me, 

Take my remains, 

Death, cast them —

To the, 

Wind. 

——-

At, 

First I, 

Had many, 

Questions, 

But I knew you took, 

All you needed of, 

What was left of me. 

And we’re no longer foes who are — 

Bound to time; so you explain the whys,

Fill in the wherefores, gazing ahead soft. 

——

Kingdom of light, love, facing the Heavens,

Death says this is the right place and —

I pray he isn’t wrong, for all —

Is revealed here in the —

House me Father built. 

His mansion with —

Many rooms for —

The faithful, 

Those souls, 

Won. . 

——

So, 

Death you —

Have not your, 

Victory. 

Death you have no sting, 

And in eternity, 

All questions are answered, 

Tranquility comes knowing, 

The reason for everything —

The cross on Calvery, God’s love divine. 

——–


———–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.