#NaPoWriMo Day 21: Free Verse — “The Writer” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 21, the prompt is:


“Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.


Credit: The Chronicle .


It’s not up to you, to point out black holes,

Name the constellations, and mark each glimmering star alive or perished.

Some stars can’t be named the North Star or apart of mythical stories, there constellations too;

For Never-neverland maybe imagination, but it soared, became more than a bubblegum dream.

If you’ve not struggled, you can’t realize,

How verbs, syntax, nouns, adjectives, punctuation, character, setting, and ambience —

Connect, form a string each a crystalline sentence that aligns and meander as champagne bubbling.

Writing’s not only selling New York Times novels, nor a stilted profession of the tearful unaccomplished.

Not everyone can do it, become JK Rowling or Carrol Lewis — but many succeed in unaccomplished glory.

Wonderland’s not where we live because we write, the everyday is clear and time counts;

The ruby-red snarls of many ‘Queen of Hearts” are far too real to avoid.

Bur, not having lived it, you can’t define an accountant, a banker, an assistant, a poet alone or how words of struggling flow.

Still, wise experience nods a teacher, it creates flushed fools for judging.

Hopes and dreams aren’t for the gavel;

Wasp words, those who stomp out candle light, don’t define reality or illusion as they intertwine.

Hours, sweat, tears, mental blockage, palms ink-stained, and effort –to finish but a sentence, they’re lived;

Writers aren’t mere dreamers, simple poets or wordsmiths;

Artists decide their titles, their boundaries.

People aren’t opinions, so let judgement float into words unsaid; instead, — hasten positivity.

Life’s understood by all uniquely, both in practicality and summer days’ swarming.

It’s not formed by popular opinion, social media, a hostile or forgiving world.

It’s a story that blooms and it’s not for anyone to say what is or isn’t,

For you’re not you’re opinions, and I don’t define you, thus;

People are multifaceted, sharing life’s uneasy ride;

So, keep your conclusions, define your passion and ambitions — not mine.

Unless you’ve walked in my shoes, are the hand covering mine as I jot –the nomenclature isn’t yours.

It’s mine, and I’ve been a writer since I was young,

Yet, the world remains both contentious and compassionate for any career,

I only wish the latter won, somewhere the ethereal and everyday combined in creative culture.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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Music Challenge/Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “ A Fallen Star’s Quest” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Music Challenge #32 on the song “Moon River”sung by Audrey Hepburn. Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: ezornier @deviantart


Falling blaze of light, night faerie,

With feathered puff wings she tarries.

Downy angel of stardust sent,

After the Moon Rivers descent.

Wider than a mile it bubbles,

Cutting past her legs stumbling.

She lifts feathers to fly, but her wings are weights, ball and chains set;

Sunshine hair in her eyes she smiles, but her feet lurch dirt wet.

*****

As the moon’s orb casts brilliant beams,

Directs a path she deftly gleans.

Her body trembles winter cold,

Winds chilling skin; for she’s been told —

When to earth she fell, she chose weak;

To no more be a star so sweet.

Her wings disassemble, feathers as snowflakes fall, flutter;

Mud sucks her feet; she’s a once gleaming bird wingless, sputtering.

*****

Dimmed star, broken-hearted lover;

She seeks a soul; he loved her ‘bove.

She treads his way, an innocent,

Not knowing human sorrow’s pins;

Her wisdom lost, but she peers and waits.

Branches rustle, spirit engaged;

Perfection fumbles in girlish form, black-hole discovering —

A quest; she’s swept down Moon River, crazy truth uncovered.

*****

Stardust child with heart unchanging,

Rides a rainbow’s trail on the chase.

She’ll find him; he’ll gentle whisper,

Asking why she became a wisp.

She’s down Moon River full of angst,

Though, with her wings she scaled its banks.

With tears of joy on petal skin, she’s found her dream-maker;

Her heart sparks; he bends to carry a star home, she’s quaking.

*****

Their two drifters mingling swiftly,

Rising to wander the world’s mists.

Places of wonder that light her eyes,

Thunder breaks, in terror she cries.

They’re a duo with each other —

For but a lifetime’s sacred vows.

In years, the nebula rekindles shines with her soul twin;

Falling blazes, light ethereal, on infant wings both spin.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 14/Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Italian – Sonnet – “Dream Wisps” #amwriting #poetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 14 the Prompt is: “to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary. Pick one (or more) of the following words, and write about what it means to dream of these things: Teacup, Hammer, Seagull, Ballet slipper, Shark, Wobbly table, Dentist, and Rowboat. I’m combining with SPF hosted by Alistair Forbes.

—–

Credit: Alistair Forbes

—-

Teacup held in hand, she murmurs vespers,

Ballet slippers lifted, a child’s fond hopes —

A tutu twirled, spun, clouds that gleam and float.

She dreams of diving seagulls, their whispers,

Voices, sharp tongues drill; sharks with winged-flippers,

Sailors, those unafraid steering rowboats.

Hammerheads drift, they alter in remote,

Albatross’ signs of woe, slight wisps;

Reality and memories weave lost thoughts.

Wants, needs, and everything time forgotten,

Awaking to find the Albatross cawing.

As ethereal moments wake, warble —

Albatross unblinking, sailor he shoots;

He quakes and trembles within blackened boots.

—-

©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Quadrille – “Dream Unrealized” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #photochallenge


Thanks to NENEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge. Also, thanks to Whimsygizmo of Poet’s Pub #dVerse for last week’s quadrille prompt on dreams.  

——-

Credit: Ooberxandxdavie6

——-

Faerie woods, 

On hollowed grounds. 

Creatures magique,

Folklore inspired:

Ethereal beauty, 

Regards timeless forest, 

From cliff’s precipice.

Wild mahogany hair, 

Tangles around,

Curved horns.

Pale eyes —

Tinged misty-green.

Searching, discovering —

Ancient secrets. 

Dress clinging close, 

As rain pours. 

She’s silent, unmoving, 

Lips pursed, before upturning,

Rain quenches, 

Her thirst, 

For something,

A dream, 

Unrealized

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.  


Photo Challenge: Poem – Quadrille- “Celestial Wings” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. Thanks to MISH of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting this week’s #dVerse poetry prompt. The meaning of a particular sign or symbol. 


Credit: Axcy via Deviantart

Credit: Misha dVerse

 

Dawn’s effervescent brilliance,

Twilight’s ease to ink.

Stars, indulgent jewels,

Delicate glass traced.

Universe brimming,

Nebulas gleaming.

Celestial diamonds.

Drifting where signs,

Vibrate without liberty.

Forget repression,

A soul weighted;

Ethereal form found.

Torn Chinese lanterns,

Flight imminent.

No more signs,

Imprisonment or labor.

Be done,

So I can glide,

Fingers stroking,

Celestial wings humming.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

dVerse: Poem – Quadrille – “The Sweetest Gift” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Lillian from dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting today’s poetic prompt. Today’s prompt is a gift or present in whatever context. 

———

Credit: Picture Correct – Smoke Photography Tips

———

An ungift, poisonous —

Vapid utterance. 

Putrid alleys, 

Unimaginable  stench. 

Monstrosity of curses, 

Needles pricking, 

Drugs without euphoria.

No blissful visions, 

No ethereal weightlessness. 

Only a voracious appetite, 

Incantations of demons. 

Should’ve kept, 

Your pitch black prayers. 

Piercing flames of candle flicker, 

Enlightens fractured hearts. 

Smoke of holy incense. 

Healing through illumination, 

The sweetest gift.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Day 19 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Blank Verse – “Mythology Not Lost” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday. 

———

Credit: Anjo Beckers Photography

———-

” I moan with pleasure.

“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.

“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.” 

― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

———

There are those who believe the Greek gods left, 

Went away, didn’t return, disappeared. 

Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war, 

There was no longer, because these gods were, 

Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —

Tolerated for a while until the —

 God who is the God, decide that they, 

Need find another place to play, beyond —

Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then, 

Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin. 

They had always been there, but now they —

We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —

The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses, 

We’re invisible, ethereal, just air. 

It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’

But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —

Quality that means that in some form they’re —

Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul. 

But these gods were but mythology so they, 

Faded as much mythology does.

Legends of all kinds and all cultures who 

Have been, before and after them, or so —

I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —

Things in town, at dinner talking with —

My dad, about life, and school and then, 

Beside us was this old man; and his eyes, 

We’re blue and twinkled, he had such, 

Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —

Talked to his friends, other gods he said. 

Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,

To me they were all invisible; he said —

Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king. 

As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —

All blended into humans, they had their —

Special places where they could go, greeting —

Their old friends and eating what gods do. 

He ate panini, talking loudly, 

Today it was Aphrodite, he also —

Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food, 

Gods required, and an extra plate lay, 

Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son, 

Apollo, had been there, eating with him. 

He calls me granddaughter and one day —

The old man gave me a small piece of his, 

Panini he loved, saying it was ‘good.’ 

Said it was in my blood, so I ate and —

The amazing delicious panini, 

Became a hunger inside me for more and —

More, until I no longer visited the, 

Restaurant with my folks or my friends, 

But to eat with the old man and our kind. 

Who no longer rule, but have special spots, 

In restaurants such as this, where myth, 

And reality meet, somehow they reform. 

Because at tonight’s feast I find them all, 

Gods, goddesses, of mythology lost. 

——–


——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain(2) – ” The Perks of Floating” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the photo prompt challenge.


Credit: Josh Hayes

 

I have a great deal of trouble staying straight up grounded,

If you got to know me, you’d see at times I feel confounding.

I don’t understand it myself,

But imagination is wealth.

So I know it’s okay to fly,

Up into the grayish sky.

Because I know how to make black and white turn colorful,

I can make a life of gray tones light so wonderfully.

——

It’s not that I’m anything unusual, different,

Then anybody else or even those who write proficiently.

But anyone who inks the page,

Knows what writers create engaged,

It’s exciting, magical,

Uplifting, and illogical.

The writer illustrates, cuts, folds, does the restitching —

Of stories; ripping out seams until what is left enriches.

——

It’s not easy to comprehend the scribbles and —

You find delicious cake baked, chocolate rich and grand,

Icing so sweet, flavor melding,

A creation vivid felt.

Picture perfect, read with pride,

And more delightfulness resides,

Hidden inside these golden words so captivating,

Intoxicating, ethereal, rising enraptured.

——-

Perhaps it’s not clear, why I let a balloon carry me floating,

It’s just, I’m seduced by language, writing, hopeful words wrote.

So protecting myself from —

Life’s elements thrumming,

Inside me, around me — I’m safe,

Despite trolls, odd notes of hatred.

I keep honing my craft, in my prettiest flats,

My comfortable wool coat; the writing it lifts me enwrapped.

——-

I let the fates lead me where the wind blows me, knowing,

I could be entrenched in editing woes, left moaning.

But I keep going with my muse,

Taking all of her abuses.

‘Cause they teach me burying —

My secrets, is so worrying.

My inspirations keep the balloon drifting, rising,

I have a great deal of trouble, but my writing makes me smile, surviving.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Poem – Licentia – “Some Magical World” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Last week’s Tale Weavers prompt was for us to write about a magical place. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. 

—–

Credit: Adventures In The Wild

——

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found? 

Place my mind travels inspired profound.

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy. 

A hiding place where I often prefer,

Don’t search for me in my valley secure. 

I’m riding raindrops, kissing the sun,

I’ve never had so much freedom or fun. 

Gentlemen here, always decent and sweet, 

A wink in their eye, naughty whispers keep.

They’ll treat a girl well, hold tight if she weeps, 

And if you would like, they’ll love you to sleep. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.
Gerber daisies everywhere with roses, 

Brilliant vivacity, colors exposed. 

Pixies trailing their dust eternally, 

Wings of lace light night, give hope certainly. 

Everything’s first bloom, so never spurn, 

This place humbles beautiful; with tears yearn

No contacts, surgery needed to peer, 

With clarity of soul, all vision clears. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——-

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 
Here is my land, I’m caregiver among —

Faeries with animals exotic, young. 
In their best-years forever, conversing —

Plainly; furry adore cuddles, nothing terse. 

A tiger cub sits by me so befuddled, 

When wolf pup becomes part of our den.

When I cheer because each word I’ve written —

Makes sense; stories flow unrestricted

 A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.
A comfortable place where I sit typing, 

Art studio where brush strokes have foresight.

Friends visit often, chocolate’s water

No weight gained, eight squares a day should be sought. 

Parties like Gatsby’s with flapper clothing, 

Each night unique theme, we don’t bemoan. 

As if we’re happy drunk with extra spunk,

Able to keep life in moderation’s trunk. 

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers Challenge: Poem – Lunes –  “Talismans or Superstitions?” #taleweavers #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie forhosting this week’s prompt on Talisemans:

” Talisman weave stories of our hopes, our fears, our dreams, our pasts, and our futures. Weave a tale about a talisman – perhaps one of yours, and let us into the sometime secret worlds talismans represent and protect.” 

——

Tale Weavers

——-

Tale Weavers

——

It’s not an exciting story, 

It’s not a —

Huge secret, I’ve few talismans. 

—–

Save a cross, if one —

Would call crosses, 

Talismans; but I’m not superstitious. 

—–

When the dead are gone, 

They’re good and —

Gone; to another place sent.

—-

Perhaps there exists wandering ghosts, 

Lost wailing spirits, 

But maybe, they’re demons deceitful.

—-

There’s no inbetween, no purgatory, 

No nothingness, only —

Eternal life or eternal death. 

—-

I don’t consider much is —

Coincidence or luck, 

Mostly, there are miracles –hope. 

—–

Prayer is beyond this realm, 

Something spirititual; ethereal, 

Unexplained, mysterious, but for faith. 

—-

Yet, I think superstition is —

A human creation, 

If we cannot explain something, 

—–

Make up stories, so we’ll

All feel better, 

When logically truth is quite clear. 

——

A conundrum itself, 

Faith mixed with, 

Reason explaining what we fear.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.