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Day 15 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Tale Weavers: Poem – Italian Sonnets – “Unbirthday Hell En Medias Res” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #taleweavers


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write poem in the middle of things en medias res. The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Quote is for the letter N. The Tale Weavers Prompt courtesy of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is to write about an unbirthday. 

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Credit: Not on The HighStreet Enterprises – http://www.notonthehighstreet.com

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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. — Pablo Neruda

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Serve me tea and cut the cake quickly please,

Ensure my tea is cold with no odd hares. 

Or rabbit fur, or door mouse flees their. 

My unbirthday, she is here — the tease

She comes most everyday to say ‘breathe!’ 

You’re not old yet, many unbirthdays left,

Hold your years close to your beating chest.

You look like twenty-five, oh please

Each and everyday there is chocolate cake, 

Loud parties; a mad hatter who is weird,

Yes, the craziesness gets to me some days.

The party is brilliant, but I always peer,

For an escape home en medias res. 

Alice is happy with one birthday day. 

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So back to the town, back to my hills, 

No more unbirthdays? Mind left reeling;

Alice’s leaving Wonderland? Sad feeling. 

Pictures on walls here are hung straight — be still, 

To think on leafy forests dear, woods filled. 

The voice of the rain as it falls and it glows, 

But I’m too drawn to rabbit holes at will. 

Back amidst glamorous parties thrown, 

Having left peace a mere second ago, 

The town brook,  seems a mellenia’s dream.

Same crew in Wonderland serving tea. 

Too hot, too cold, to much cake makes me grow, 

Back to unbirthday hell — un medias res. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Laturnes - 1,2,3,1, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Writing

Poem: Laturnes – “Passion Bared”


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Listen to ‘Passion Bared’ below:

———

Of,

All I,

Describe it’s,

Not —


So,

Easy,

To tell you,

How —


My,

My Mind,

Works creating,

Art.


Art,

Of All,

Types; the kind

You —


Read,

And the,

Kind you paint;

Draw.


To

Describe,

Imagine,

Your —


Hands,

And Mind,

Working with —

Each —


The,

Other,

Seamlessly;

Right.


What,

flows from,

Your heart makes,

A —


Piece,

Written,

Drawn, Painted.

Not —


For,

You to,

Explain it;

Just,


Is,

What it,

Is and that’s

Art.


In,

Its true,

Purest Form.

It —


Seeks,

Explores,

Makes connection,

Deep —


In,

The soul,

Of Viewer.

And —


The,

Reader,

Alike it,

Is —


Felt,

In heart;

Our passion,

Bare.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.