100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Wings Broken” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #flashfiction #poetry 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting this edition of #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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She valued it, 

Above all. 

Elaborate China, 

Not pretty or delicate. 

Gaudy-patterned, 

Indigo Wedgewood. 

Peach, gray flowers. 

Frail bone China, 

No value to him. 

Displayed in a cabinet. 

Pieces and —

Place settings, 

Gifted for —

Wedding presents. 

She dusted them,

Each week.  

Paid him no mind, 

Humming hymns. 

Ignored him when, 

He talked. 

She never used to, 

She’d laugh, 

Join in. 

And when they, 

Used the China, 

At Easter, 

Designs of indigo, peach —

Made him sick. 

Dizzying, he wanted to —

Wretch. 

Just as when , 

He saw her, 

With him. 

The one she said, 

She’d forgotten. 

Accepted he’d married, 

Moved on.

But his aftershave, 

On her skin, 

Made him ill,

So he stood, 

Starring at the China, 

She’d taken out, 

To clean. 

Piece by piece, 

It hit the wall, 

Smashing, crashing. 

Splinters of it, 

Drawing blood. 

Until shards of, 

Tacky dinnerware, 

Only remained. 

She screamed, 

Wounded like a fledging, 

Who fell, 

For the first time, 

And couldn’t arise, 

Never again, 

Wings broken. 

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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.