#OctPoWriMo Day 26/Photo Challenge: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Words Slighted” #amwritingpoetry #PhotoChallenge #MLMM


For OctPoWriMo Day 26 the Prompt was inside out. Combining with NEKNEERAJ’s Photo Challenge Prompt.


What is inside you (thoughts, feelings etc) that should be out to the world, but aren’t? Do you have anything inside you that is out, but that you didn’t want to be? Or maybe you are relieved that these ‘inside’ feelings are finally ‘out’?


Credit: Ingrid Endel


Inside me is a puzzle, but you’ve each —

Deciphered yours; you see what you want to see.

And you see what I’ve hidden, cracks that bleed;

Floorboards uncovered, with mystery screech.

You can’t with irate words, pretend to preach,

When you’re knowledge is without ‘word’ essence;

You can’t know truth as golden feathers pressed.

Her name unfurling, a diamond-angel’s speech.

Each syllable’s a traveller wandering.

Vague, lost, content, but curious pondering,

Which roads to amble, in sunlight or rain.

I know we’re all great puzzles, but we’re all —

Poets, writers too; we know despite falls,

Secrets buried within our stories told;

Truth’s a pact; words slighted by Cupid’s bow.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Saturday Mix/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Lunes – “The Raven’s Kaw” #poetry #saturdaymix #photochallenge


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the prompt on flashbacks. And also thanks to NENEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menageriefor hosting this week’s Photo Challenge. 

——-

Credit: Laura Makabesku

——-

Such blackness here, wild fears, 

Cannot be helped;

Once I paused, and saw —

——-

His Raven eyes spellbinding me.

Tapping the window, 

Glass shattering, I’m breathless

——-

Bedroom door locked, all asleep —

But for I, 

Raven kaws, advances towards me.

—–

I’m prey, what he desires, 

Shapeshifting bird becomes —

Enchanting man, tapping tappered fingers. 

—–

“Stop playing games and come away,” 

But in my —

Dreams of week’s before I —

——

Dreamt the Raven ripped out —

My throat raw; 

I became his dark companion.

—–

Life was grand but I —

Lost myself, 

In him; was loved but —

——

Destined for a fate I —

Scarce imagined with —

No place of my own. 

—-

When his world became too —

Much, I required —

Thinking space, some breathing room. 

——-

So when the Raven man, 

Of my dreams, 

Arrived — I knew him well. 

—-

And while he stared with —

Fascination at my, 

Coffee eyes purple-bruised, I —

——

Begged, if he was going —

To love me; 

I required a quiet space. 

—–

I couldn’t be his mistress, 

His everything without —

“A room of [my] own.” *

—–

Without, I couldn’t function well, 

And soar with –

Him at night; unless he —

——-

Promised to stay outside my —

Head, my. mind, 

And leave my thoughts alone.  

——-

We both needed some privacy. 

So with shiny, 

Wings bold we together flew. 

——

Before our flight, he gifted —

Mint-sapphire ring,

Binding us both in our —

—–

Promises — me that I had, 

Quiet space; he —

That I was his companion;

——-

His forever mate; loved well —

Our life together,

Shapeshifters seek dawn — Ravens night. 

——–

*Virginia Woolf – A Room of Her Own 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – Thoughts of the Mockingjay #amwriting #poetry #fiction #symbolic 


Credit: Wikia

———

Mockingjay, pretty bird or elegant deadly queen? 

A woman, a creature of dystopia and mythology

If there’s one bird to be, it would be a Mockingjay

Though I know they’re imaginary,

Mockingjays are real as symbols of courage.

Birds which don’t break, they carry on;

Nature outlasting outlandish experiments,

Reinventing, Mother Earth evolving and re-working, 

What humans would call a mistake; 

Yet these Jays cannot be hidden away, they’re fierce warriors risen. 

——

As a Mockingjay, could I fly close to the sun? 

Icarus (I think) burned off his majestic wings doing such a deed, 

 I’d think a celestial queen of Mockingjays is smarter

She’s a stealthy bird whose whistle, repeats any tune heard, 

Her mimickery can be confusing to her enemy. 

A Mockingjay queen, would keep her scars hidden, 

Safe beneath feathers which float, as hope; 

Now fuzz, falling furiously as she grows, dropping downy —

Fast, no longer a chick adorned with puffiness

Now a full-blown black and white glory who sings life’s story, 

The story of pain, betrayal, and loss;

Your average adventure and most tantalising tale. 

Oh, what a Mockingjay can truly be, 

When her heads adorned by sunlight and truth,

Choosing her battles and using her melody

The Melody you’re humming to yourself. 

The sweetest songs of tears, quicksilver and liquid gold, 

Molten metal glimmering

She burns with fire in her soul, though she is no mythical Phoenix;

Yet she rises from the ashes of society and science

She repeats your tunes, the echoes throughout her wild lands. 

——

Credit: http://www.nerdist.com

—–

You’ll never catch a Mockingjay, there’s wrath in her footprints, 

Her anger caused, ignites an inner flame brilliant. 

She’ll swoop from above and end you below, 

The dignified woman, no longer laughing,

Going to battle, her war song a trill

The Mockingjay flies her wings fluid, her form grace designed. 

A legendary bird of modern times,

Survival of the fittest crossing genetics; 

Nature re-designs better than a science lab of horrors

Mockingjay is more than bird she is the huntress

The symbolic warrior of Ancient Greece and Rome – Artemis;

Bow with blazing pyrotechnics and lethal skill, pointed at her kill. 

She lives and she dreams of the day, the war is long ended, 

Where revenge and the cold stone hearted have no meaning. 

Her desire is the melody so beautiful it thrills and heals

Enraptures a soul with clearly sung words. 

She’s a warrior with golden platted lashes, winged at her pray;

A sultry seductress and and goddess flying free. 

Mockingbird walks, she sways, feathers flocked close, 

She’s as precious as the sparrow, calling lonely for her love.

She’d scarred, her heart torn

So strong but in need of help most of all. 

Even symbols of strength such as her, 

Who mimick a fictitious tune with ease;

Need more than survival to hope for. 

She needs more than, a gilded bird cage. 

—–

Credit: Laces and Tiaras

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Diamanté – ” Fire, Phoenix, Light, and Darkness” #poetry #amwriting #music 


“Just Like Fire” – P!nk

——

Fire,
Scorching, Singeing.

Destroying, Cleansing, Burning all. 

Sparks inside me, embers glowing.

Remenants of yesterday dying.

Acrid smell, Burnt scent, Dusty death.

Blowing winds, Becoming but —

Ashes.

——–

Fire,

Flaming, Fluid heat, 

Interrupting life, Avenging, Lighting pathways.

Devastating the place called home.

Lighting the way back to safety, when enclosed.

Luminous candle, Glowing street lamp, Gleaming stars.

Beaming, Brighten’s with —

Light.

——

Ashes,

Grey silt, Smokey remains.

Leftovers, Burnt black-wood, Coughing fits.

From the ashes, rises the grand Phoenix.

Still the Phoenix becomes the fire.

Spreading fast, Blackening souls, Killing life.

Warmth, Hearth, 

Fire.

—–

Phoenix,

Reddish feathers, Flying past, 

Wings spanning, Soaring fast, Exploring the sky.

The fire brings the smoke to rise in plumes, 

The smoke also signals rebirth — to live again.

Light in Darkness, Glistening stars, Glazing flame.

Hope in , Glory of —

Light. 

—–

Light 

Beaming, Revealing, 

Unravelling mystery, Untwisting falsehood, Enlightening knowledge.

Shadow has no place to hide from light;

Darkness loves the corners hidden. 

Nightmares, Souls which quake, Fear Whispers, 

Gloomy, Depressing, 

Darkness.

—-

Dark, 

Twilight falling, Shaded sky, 

Creeps in Shadow, Blackening, Opaqueness.

Not a breath of light or air to spare in life;

Darkness in death, leads to despair without hope. 

Taking Cover, Teasing Fate, Testing Boundaries.

The End, Fini, 

Death.

—-

Death,

Scythe wielded, Bones rattling,

Soul gone, Decaying body, Empty shell.

The dead will rise at the end of days;

But until then, those of light stay in rays. 

Breath of freshest air,  No worries, No sorrow,

Peace, Promise Kept, 

Heaven.

—–

Fire,

Blazing inferno, Uncontrollable, 

Crisp hearts, Burnt hands, Wild fire’s agony.

Fire cooks our food, the first discovery of man;

But fire too, is life and rebirth; death is not the end.

Renewing life, Forest regrowing, Animals returning,

Hopeful for, Breath of —

Life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “Hope Scarred” #amwriting #poetry


http://www.brainyquotes.com

———

Please don’t give me hope,

Don’t come into my life a moment,

Leaving me with expectations.

You think I’d know better,

Having experienced this situation often;

Expectations are dangerous, 

Few people in life meet them,

No matter how basic, 

The expectation maybe.

Don’t set me up to fall, 

To get sucked underwater,

You the undertow drowning my sorry soul.

Should’ve known better, 

You weren’t a genuine Pearl,

Should’ve known by now, 

Those who care for me, make time for me.

Should have known by now,

But you made me believe, 

This time you were for real.

Now I’m deflated, hurt, and frustrated.

What is it with you? 

 I can’t even expect you to be, 

A dependable friend?

No, of course not, the fault is mine.

I can put expectations on myself,

But never on you, never on anyone.

Just let the pixie dust and fairytales, 

Burn into the night, a haunting fire.

But hope is not destroyed, 

It only burns brighter in the flames warm.

Keep your hope and your dreams, 

 I live in the real world;

It hurts me, scars me, damages me.

You totalled the destruction.

Tomorrow I rebuild torn, 

But knowing, no man —

Can expect anything from me, until I say.

Right now my hope is crushed.

You taught me to be hopeless, 

Made me feel lost and forlorn.

For now, a true fact, hope is the bird I scorn, 

Tomorrow, hope has *feathers, and will be reborn.

——-

* “Hope Is A Thing With Feathers” – Emily Dickinson

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: “Deme, No . . .”


Alistair Forbes

 
I enjoy Sunday mornings because it is the only time I don’t feel stressed. My fiancé Mason and I often take Deme our lab, to the dog park. 

Today, Deme has spied ducks walking onto the grass by the lake. ” Deme come,” I say sternly. “Mommy says come here now.” She gives me that look dogs give you when they are going to do what they want even when you tell them ‘No.’ 
Deme picks up the tiniest duckling in her mouth.

“Down, put the duckling down, Deme.” Mason warns. Deme begins to shake the duckling and play with it. “Deme no! Bad dog.” Mason says in a deep threatening voice. 

Then to our amazement there is only a fluff of feathers. I’m not sure how, but our lab has swallowed a duckling, with only a few chomps. Mama duck is furious and chases Deme everywhere.

” Come here, Deme.” I shout to her. She comes quickly, begging me to save her with a whimper. But I am too late, Mama duck bites Deme on the butt, three times. 

There is something horrid about Deme eating a precious tiny duckling. But then again, as Darwinian’s would put it, it’s natural selection.

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SFP.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poetry – Time and Vibrant Color


Waiting, it drains me, I wish I could abstain from the anger I feel.
But illness changed me, and my patience left me at odd angles freely
Floating up into the sky, all I have is anxiety and no reply.
Commit to a time of day, and realize you can’t change those plans swiftly.
Because my life’s concentrated, generated so that I’m always looking forward, dancing in circles for events.
Not in these distended lines, that you might run your life into.
What’s the deal? I could have kept you company, wouldn’t that have been the worst idea?
Don’t try to separate me out such as eggs, yokes left in a tiny dish and only the whites suffice.
I’m not just for a date, I’m for everyday, but nothing changes, time flits away.
Don’t you know the daytime is the zenith of my rise?
And it’s hard to get my way when you only pick the dead of night to live.
A place I fade away twilight into coal, it’s not always a solution but a thick choking smoke.
I want to live in a chorus of sunspots and rays upon my back, shining in my eyes.
Don’t you understand when you get tired and when I become tired, it’s not the same weakness?
You’ll never understand how it feels to be me, wishing for an energy to cradle and use,
In beauty bold streams of light and the dark deep night.
I wish not to be forgotten as reels of film spun until age has stripped them of their former glory, it’s gory living this way.
Waiting for people to understand, knowing that wind whistles through their brains.
Understanding gone as trains passing overcoming the wale of the night time owl.
His eyes are wise, until the hawk gets a hold of his feathers, and whether you get the beat of my life,
I wander, too many nights I’ve squandered waiting for the time to hit a certain hour.
Only to be tricked and mercilessly a coward, trying to make you comprehend the pain gently,
That hits right about this time, when I have nothing left as 4:30 pm chimes and I collapse until 7.
You move at your own pace, I think I want someone to leave me out of this chase.
Because I am meek and nothing will make me less then hollow
And years in the future I believe, you’ll never know me inside out
Because you’re so focused, you’ll just forget past elegances and glance away
And leave me to solitude, confined to the room, giant habiscus waiting to flourish.
Someone few understand needs you to keep time, to make time tick past single dots on a clock – punctuality is not a crime.
Show respect and suddenly, learning happens if you let others help you engage.
Instead of living life alone, unto yourself, picture a life with pulsing color and vibrancy, picture this…
Just because we need live in the hour of the glass, doesn’t mean life will be boring.
Why just the opposite – red, and magenta, and turquoise blue all these colors I dream with you.