#NaPoWriMo Day 4/Tale Weavers: Poem – Free – Verse – “Infinite Fallibility”#amwriting #poetry #TaleWeavers


For Day 4 of NaPoWriMo the prompt is: “to write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns. Adjectives are fine too!

I’m combining with Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver #162 about an item of magic. To me, something that is ‘ideal,’ has a kind of magic.


Credit: Yuiizaa September via Unsplash


Helen of Troy,

Fairest woman.

The ideal as —

The poet Homer,

The Philosopher Plato’s ‘just’ society;

Yet, the word means,

Not enough;

Not,

Mr. Hawkins’ anomalies,

Nor Virgil’s Aeneid,

Leading Dante on the path —

Purgatory, Hades, and Paradiso.

Yet both were ideal teachers,

For Milton’s Paradise Lost.

Or, consider Coco Channel,

Sewing pockets,

In women’s suits,

Not for decoration,

A utility, women of old —

Weren’t given.

Or Cleopatra the seductress,

Survives Caesar and Marc Anthony;

Her beauty, their destruction; her death.

Or, Shakespeare’s plays,

Ideal comedies, with —

Brilliant histories and tragedies;

Satisfying Queen Elizabeth I’s whims.

And Beowulf’s writer,

Binding the need,

For heroic deeds, boasting —

Revenge and deeds as immortality.

Clashing with,

Holy Scriptures;

And the lone ideal, one man,

From Bethlehem.

Who many still claim,

“He’s a fraud — for freeing me.”

Forgiveness, with heroism,

We have the modern Ulysses;

James Bond, Jason Bourne.

Disney Princesses,

Merida, Elsa and Moana;

Yet, there is no ideal,

On earth we can prefect.

It’s inherit in our existence,

Ideals are lost.

Twisting Milton’s truth,

To Pandemonium.

While Helen’s stare,

Perceives angel- skeletons,

Blaspheming prisoners;

Jews worked, starved to death;

Their figure’s the epitome,

Of models,

Even, ‘Twiggy’s’ bones rattle, and rage.

Yet, Helen smiles,

With visions of new ideals,

Yet, no ideal,

Is ever ideal;

For, to be ideal is to be in paradise.

Not, alive as we are now —

Imperfect as we are.

Our flaws bind us,

In fallibility.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: What Does the Fox Say? #amwriting #flashfiction  


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: Alastair Forbes – A Mixed Bag

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Yelvis -“What Does the Fox Say.”

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Geraldine giggled. “What does the fox say, Daddy?”

“Um, I think he barks.”

“Could I be a fox for Halloween?”

Brian shuffled his feet. “If that’s what you want, we can attempt to find a costume for you. You don’t want to be Belle anymore?”

“I like Belle but Elsa’s a better princess. But the best costume is a fox, like in the song.”

“What song?” Brian was confused. 

Geraldine shook her head making a show of sighing. “How can you not know the song. It’s on your iPad Daddy?”

“Mom put it there.”

Geraldine giggled again. She started laughing. “Your just saying that, Dad. Can you make the fox noises again, like in the music video?”

“Err, not here.”

“Yes, here now.”

“Well we’re in the middle of the Halloween costume store. I don’t want to embarrass myself, Ger. Let’s see if we can find your fox costume, okay?”

“No Daddy, sing it. Sing the whole song.”Geraldine’s doe brown eyes began tearing up. 

Brian sighed, flipping to Geraldine’s favorite song on his phone. “Do I have to sing, can’t I just play you the song.”

Geraldine sniffled and shook her head. 

Brian tried to breath deeply. “Okay, here it goes . . .” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.