Sunday Writing Prompt/ Music Challenge: Poem – “Never Forgotten Twilight Hours” #amwritingpoetry #musicchallenge #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing Prompt. For this week’s Prompt we had to choose 4 terms, and I chose the texture jagged, the occasion just because, the feeling expectancy, and the sound grinding. Thanks also to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Challenge using the A Star is Born’ song, “Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga.


Credit: Darryl Brian via Unsplash.


Always Remember” sung by Lady Gaga


Hot red rock, stacked sediment,
A river ran through it grinding crimson, mango, snow-white gleaming;
The Arizona sky blends in painted fusion; you’re alight with night fire.
The scars on my arms lashed, from the welts of the past;
But you love me as gold, see there’s light inside.
I can’t find it, it hides; but your eyes peer through.
It hurts, a jagged line of bruises –I can’t read past the shadows of addiction in you.
A lifestyle that’s claimed you, makes a monster sometimes.
But, I’ll never forget those night’s when we were done strumming our melodies and dived.
I won’t forget those ethereal evenings, stars shooting into the bluish-blackness beyond; the blood moon rising against maroon midnight-blue.
And just because, I’ll remember us always; just because, I won’t forget your azure eyes.

Together we rhyme, croon the words as they form in our muddled minds,

Dream, as our skin brushes close, sweat drips, as the cliffs glow in layers, sediment crushed grande.

In Arizona we rise, together here — there’s no expectancy, no need to hurry, scurry in time.

We hope this occasion is better that the crimson and marmalade sky won’t stop glistening, as fireballs glint on.

We’re lovers in the night, sometimes were poets singing, delineating a phrase or line.

Sometimes we’re opposites screaming, and no words describe the knife slashing; the war wounds are mutual.

But just because I love you still; just because we’re each other’s glue, I’ll never forget these forever nights.

We attempt to rhyme, splintered sounds bite, but we keep writing our, hands entwined.

I don’t know who wrote our ambitious story, but I don’t want to be without your arms, your stardust eyes.

In the ink of night I sigh, as it doesn’t matter where you go, the part of me that’s you won’t die.

Just because, I’ll never forget the fire dancing in the twilight, the jagged edge of morning, ’cause I’ll never forget our time — just because.

You peer in my eyes, the whole world fades black, nothing is left slack, and we argue and snap.

But, I don’t want to be without your laugh-lined smile; I don’t want to be only a memory, beneath the sun-jewel morning.

I want to be forever, together no matter the time, don’t make me a memory — I’ll never forget these twilight hours we’ve espoused.

*****

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Rictameter – “Streets A New” #amwritimg #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——-

Credit: J. Hardy Carroll
———

Empty, 

Thoughts with empty —

Dreams; never meant to inflict,

Such pain, no anxiety, hurt —

done unintentionally

Not considering, 

Empty. 

——-

Bare streets, 

Abandonment, 

No one comes here, danger —

Lurks in sun’s zenith and night’s chill.

Lost lonely souls wander, 

Hopeless; shifty —

Bare streets. 

——-

Broken, 

Boulevard with —

Dreams in smithereens; pieces —

Of what could’ve been, deserted. 

Littered streets, none tread 

Improvements left, 

Broken.

——

Why fix? 

Somewhere no one —

Ventures? Bring beauty to  —

Dank tenements abandoned? 

Some people still live here, 

Shuffling through, 

Why Fix? 

——-

Broken, 

I can’t hull stones, 

Nor restore past glories, 

I’m no architect with dreams of —

Organic design where the 

Forgotten dwell, blurry —

Eyed and hopeless, 

Broken. 

——

Hope means, 

Skilled developer, 

Notes potential in ruins, 

Will see masked brilliance beneath the —

Treachery; Boulevard —
Where someone sees, 

Hope is. 

——-

Anew, 

I can’t remould, 

Your splintered heart, pristine, 

I can stitch the pieces together, 

So in time, stitches fade,  

Heart heals almost, 

Anew, 

———

©Mamdibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

First Line Fridays: Heat Panic #FLF #fiction #amwriting


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FLF.

——-

Credit:Thomas Shelberg via UnSplash

——-

Three hours into the desert [Sandra felt the jeep’s] engine choke and buckle, rolling dark smoke into the pale blue sky.

“Are you kidding me?” Sandra asked her husband Jim. “We’re going to the Grand Canyon something people do all the time from Vegas and the damn Barbie jeep breaks down? Don’t they maintain these things, check that they’re working before they leave us in the open desert?”

Jim gazed at his wife his eyes half closed. The temperature was a sizzling 45 degrees Celsius and growing up in Toronto’s cold winters meant he didn’t handle the heat well. Sandra’s harping made Jim feel that much worse, sweating prufesly in the leather seat beside her. 

“Jim, Jim? Are you even listening to me? How long is it going to take for them to send another jeep? Why is everyone else so mellow about this? It gets cold in the desert at night and what about the snakes and scorpions?”

Jim groaned out load and Sandra gave him a dirty look. “Sandy, its hot right now,” he mumbled. “We’ve no air conditioning and if it gets cold soon that would be great for everyone. I’m sure the tour company will find us soon. Our jeep’s Barbie pink as you say.”

“Oh and could you calm down? You’re frightening the elderly couples,” he said whispering into Sandra’s ear as to not offend the two couples nearby. 

Sandra gave Jim a weird look then continued yapping. The tour guides who had been on the radio the last hour with their company were now glaring at Sandra as they too sufferered in the heat and from her constant questions. 

The older couples had it the worst, Jim thought. No one wanted any of them to undergo heat stroke since the temperature  seemed to affect the four of them the most. Sandra’s constant complaining wasn’t helping the matter. 

“Simmer down, lady,” one guide told Sandra,”This happens sometimes. Another jeep is a couple of hours away, if you can control yourself until then.”

Sandra didn’t care, she kept talking. 

Jim was surprised when a lady in her seventies, named Meg, smacked Sandra’s face hard. So hard he could see the red outline of the woman’s hand on Sandra’s sweaty cheek. Sandra was so shocked she didn’t say another word except to ask for a bottle of water every couple of hours. 

Megan winked at Jim and said: “Nothing like a good smack in the face. I think the heat was getting to your wife. She seems to be okay now that I smacked her and that she’s drinking water instead of talking.” Jim laughed bumping fists with feisty Meg.

“Okay?” Jim asked Sandra later. 

“Yeah good now, just a little panic attack I think. The heat was getting to me.”

Jim laughed at this stroking Sandra’s back. 

The evening sky in the desert turned from twilight into glittering black with giant stars. All eight people in the jeep sighed with pleasure as the blistering heat cooled and they were awed by the fantastic celestial bodies. 

When another pink jeep arrived the next morning, no one complained about the heat or Sandra. Both problems had been eclipsed by the perfect temperature and the starry night viewed under them. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 12 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/FFfAW: Poem – Free Verse – “The River’s Course” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo is to “write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds).” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote is from the letter L. As well, thanks to Pricless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Water and Rocks FFftAW
Credit: Maria of Doodles and Scribbes

“The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It’s an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?”
Kamand Kojouri


 

The river she flows fluent, flourishing in her mad descent,

Rapids, water reeling past rocks leading her to a path of providence.

Fast, and fleet, a river rivaling; I’ve experienced —

On the weary trail, the river cutting, crushing the rocks.

She carves her path, ploughing silt to the shore,

Debris of dramatic, erosion deciding on the the crooked carved path.

The water, she must flow, finding her fabulous spark in the light of —

Lumionous sunlight, searing in the afternoon heat.

For this river runs through the desert, the orange, organic trails,

Mixed with red-rock, rizing in the Arizona afternoon.

Cliffs creating a canyon so deep and wide, where the water dances through.

No one to stop her destruction of rock, her pounding so hard it hurts,

But the river rivals all, keeps on carving her way —

Through the canyon cringing, when she chops off more silt.

Off its brilliant fire, she finds a place where the —

River rests in waterfalls crashing and carniverous,

Then she wanes as she reaches shore and and lays back breathing,

At ease, she is pleased and settles,

Against the sand of some beach, somewhere; she’s oblivious —

Simply sliding against sand,

No more cutting of solid rock required,

Tranquility is in the tide, easing in and out,

The river finds, rests with her lover,

Her and the shore are silent heart beats.


img_3553-7

 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Are Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: An Evil Chalice #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

A Mixed Bag

—–

Timo and Erica had been stranded in the desert when their small plane crashed near Cairo. Sunburnt, exhausted, and thirsty, they were shocked to see an Oasis. 

“An Oasis Timo, we’re saved. There’s water and even a chalice to drink from,” Erica yelled. 

“You’re seeing things Erica, there’s no water and no chalice.” 

Really look, it’s only a few steps away — we’re here,” Erica said rushing forward to drink from a beautiful pale blue spring; however, whenever she tried to cup the spring water with her hands, it slide away. 

“It won’t let me drink and I’m half-dead,” she cried. 

Timo rubbed his eyes, finally believing the blue spring underneath a palm tree existed. A chalice made with a human skull sat in the middle of a stone alter as well. It gave him a feeling of dread. 

“Erica, to drink the water you need the chalice but don’t do it. There’s something terrifying and evil about this cup.” 

She turned to Timo, giving him a dark stare, “I’ll drink from the chalice if I want.” Erica strode to the alter, bowed mockingly and lifted the chalice to kiss the skull on the mouth.

Timo grimaced as she scooped it into the water and drank. It was an Indiana Jones’ movie come to life as Erica’s life force was sucked from her body which disintegrated until she was dust. 

He decide to try drinking from the spring without the chalice. Timo drank all the water he could then sat down beneath the large palm tree in the shade. He wondered why cupping his hands worked for him and not for poor Erica as he drifted asleep.

When he awoke, Timo heard the blessed noise of rescuers in the distance and hollered for help. To his amazement the Oasis had disappeared along with the chalice. 

He contemplated what he should say happened to Erica as no one would believe the truth. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Killing A Snake #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—–

Credit: Grant Sud

——

Leonard was absorbed by the red hues of the wide Arizona desert. It was hot outside in the late spring, the cascading layers of rock enthralling and the green shrubs and cacti complementing the red cliffs. Here Leonard could be alone with his thoughts, far from the problems of his life. 

No one was chasing him in the desert. No one was telling him he wasn’t allowed to set fire to buildings. No one was insisting Leonard couldn’t punch a guy in the face and start fighting because Leonard didn’t like how the guy was looking at him, or that the guy had a hot girlfriend which Leonard did not. In the desert, no one knew how much money he’d stashed away in offshore accounts from the company where he’d been an accountant with a falsified identity, these past two-years.

Out here in the desert, there was serenity and quiet. Leonard would in an hour, catch a private plane and reclaim his offshore funds. But he wasn’t counting on the rattle snake who bit his leg when he stood up and stepped on the snake accidentally.

The snake’s poisonus venom made Leonard numb in minutes. Quickly he was fading into obscurity and death; the bright red Arizona desert claiming him for all his wrongs. How curious a snake would kill a snake

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 7 – Rondel – “The Chocolate Death” #amwriting #poetry #chocolate


Day 7 Prompt: Tasty

“Free write for ten minutes around the word tasty, try some word association, where does it lead – To a memory as a child with the first bite to your favorite food? To a moment when you cooked your first meal? Dig deep and allow your words to flow.”
——

http://www.graphicsheat.com

——–

Delicacies on my lips land, 

Smoothly sumptuous ambrosia. 

Chocolate soft inside so rich, not bland. 

Sweet, dark sensuous aroma. 

—-

Moist soft cake, creamy center grand. 

Icing with cocoa, melts just so, 

Delicacies on my lips land, 

Smoothly sumptuous ambrosia. 

—-

Chocolate intense taste I understand, 

Crumbs of cake near mouth, eating slow.

One more bite, save for tomorrow, 

Devoured, pleasure sweet, on hand.

Delicacies on my lips land. 

—–
Rondel: 

“A French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet, rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats.” 

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information. 

——–

Poem: Italian Sonnet – “Desert and Oasis Art” #introtopoetry #amwriting #sonnet


For the last poetry 101 post the theme is the future, and to he the form of a sonnet. I’m also using The Daily Post prompt words Glass and Desert.

——-

http://www.calixebe.com

——-

Desert air burns bleeding cracked lips; so slow, 

Annoying pain, causing heat stroke quicker.

What’s in the future, dry dust, sand sifting?

Tiny grains grating in my mouth, wind blows.

Does this desert end? Sun baking skin whole?

Am I done penance, my soul much richer?

Water, oasis found; soul weeps bitter.

Are my thoughts real? Or am I dying slow?

——

Future ahead, sandstorms, I see swarming;

Into crystals of glass where artists make, 

Such beautiful creations colours forming.

Glass in flowers; blown shapes delicate made.

Where presently, I’m in need of some shade.

Torment cease; dancing, at last, rain storms! 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

  

Poem: Etherees – ” Diamonds, Suits, and Equality.” 


http://www.walllpaperup.com

———–

I could keep on telling you of all the —

Possibilities, endless in row, 

Diamonds glittering, light within, 

Such falseness in clarity, 

Like you, extensively cheap —

You don’t comprehend, 

Lies kill love and —

Con-artists, 

Thrive; I 

See

—-

Through, 

Your lies, 

You’re glass with, 

Fractured cracks split, 

In all directions, 

Blaming me because you’re, 

A lost boy never grown up, 

Buying your way with jewels and, 

Expensive booze on your breath; putrid, 

The smell, of vanity, and self-deceit.

——-

Broken old man, in business suit glaring, 

Imagining you’ve an empire but you’ve,

Only got a shilling and its, 

Currency long past, not used, 

So pay for your glitter, 

Die for Diamond rings, 

You’ve only things, 

And no ounce,

Substance, 

Fake.

—-

Look

Down on, 

Condescend, 

From you high horse, 

Fall on marble, crack, 

You’re a paragon, 

Sayings of virtue spent, 

Lying with each word on your tongue, 

Never saying what you mean and —

Not receiving your just dessert, 

Razing a woman below your boot,

It’s not Madmen; she cares not for jewels.

—–

Rather, she wishes you’d respect her more, 

Pay her equal for the same type of job, 

Not peer down on her to use her, 

Not think she is stupid with —

Her four-year-degree not —

Good enough for you, 

She isn’t going, 

To be stuck, 

Keeping, 

Home.

—–

Jewels, 

Don’t phase, 

Her more than, 

A moment’s past–

She sells them all back, 

Letting you see she’ll toss, 

Your silly rock she’ll not be —

That girl; she fought for her place and, 

The dealings were rough; no respect for —

Her a diamond unformed a jewel still scorned.

——-

In modern world she’s disgusted with the —

Throw-back to Don Drapper; but even he told, 

His teen daughter “You’re beautiful –

The rest is up to you; TV —

Showing reality and, 

The issue at hand, 

Equality means, 

Woman, Man,  

Same. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Three Line Tales:  A Letter to Mom and Dad (Also a Writing 101 prompt) #everydayinspiration


Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting the 3 Line Tales photo prompt. For writing 101 our prompt was to write a letter

——

Kirsty TG

—–

Dear Dad and Mom: I’m sorry I left the way I did years ago, angry and confused, upset at the way my life was going; I shouldn’t have ran out on you two; I should have asked you for help but I ran away and joined the army and I serve my country now. 

I’ve learned a lot out here in the desert fighting insurgents who oppose democracy, everything we all hold dear in life, our civil rights and our families, and our liberties to do as we please; here it’s so different and in the blink of an eye, one of my best friends and his platoon was wiped out by a road side bomb, but I have more to say: 

There is a girl I married while I was at odds with you two; she begged me to invite you to the wedding but I refused; we married a year ago and she’s had your first grandchild, a tiny boy named Samuel,  7 lbs 3 oz on August 22nd; he is sweet and innocent and I don’t know if I’ll make it out of here to see him soon enough but you should go see Lana my wife, and Samual my son, meet your grand baby and with Lana’s parents, watch over them both until I come home; I’ll write Lana’s address on the back of my letter. 

With Love your Son, 

Talon 

September 1, 2016 

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.