Blank Verse - unrhymed Iambic Pentameter, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 6 -NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/ Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Blank Verse – “Coal Dust for Sunlight” #poetry #amwriting #flashfiction #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.” The corresponding GoodRead’s quote for the A to Z Challenge is the letter E. 

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Credit: Yarn Spinner
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“It’s one of those things a person has to do; sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” ― Edward Albee, The American Dream & The Zoo Story

——–

Down in the swamp, down in the bogs there’s —

Mud sucking at my feet, at my soul

Everyday I journey here and fight, 

The elements, the giant rocks, gnarled trees, 

Worst of all the swamp, pulling me in. 

There are days I believe I shall let it, 

But my wife she sees, working here means, 

In such a short while, we shall both be free. 

She says, we’re educated, we have more —

To us than meets the eye, we’ve wisdom

To work in horrible conditions, 

Because we know two years from now we —

Can leave this wretched bog behind, with all —

The tortures of the tormenting tree limbs, 

Nightmares left, there’s better; we’re going —

To the City, where education’s worth —

Something and I won’t have to hate each day. 

Mining for fuel, this coal coating my lungs, 

My wife’s happy, delighted, she is life

So I listen to my fathers last words:

“Don’t stay in this town all your life, move on. 

Take your girl, your college education, 

Leave this foul place behind, don’t be me, 

Coal dust in your lungs is misery and —

A cancerous death is what awaits you.” 

So, I worked and she and I, we left here

To the bustling city, with peaceful parks, 

We breathe, ‘neath blossomed trees, reading in light. 

——–


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Stuck In A Moment


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.


giant-ffftpp
Credit: Roger Shipp

Diana was listening to U2 when she spotted the statue. He was carved out of black marble,  his athletic form highly emphasized.

“Stuck In a Moment” played on her phone and she chuckled to herself thinking this statue was indeed “stuck in a moment” and he would never be able to “get out of it.”

Circling him, Diana examined the statues form from all angles. She touched him, loving how smooth his marble skin felt. She was surprised when her touch sparked a light.

The light traveled through the veins and muscles of the statue from his feet up to his neck, flickering into the features of his face. Suddenly, what stood before Diana was an attractive man.

He grinned at Diana, unaware of his own nakedness. Smiling he clasped Diana’s hand before kissing her soundly. Then, he walked off into the crowded street, drawing unheard of female attention.

Diana continued her own way back to work unsure if what she experienced was real. She couldn’t help but think, the man who had been a statue, gave her the best kiss she’d had in forever.


“Stuck In A Moment” – U2


©Mandibelle16. (20170 All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, La' Tuine - A, B, C, D -last lines all same rhyme for each stanza 9,8,9,8 syllables, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing

Photo Challenge: Poem – La’ Tuine – “Siren No More”


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge.


monsters
Credit: Ilmari Nen

Bare feet on the earth, pausing for rest,

She’s weary from the the life she lives, just —

A sister to keep her company, it’s tough,

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Burying her face in fragrant earth less,

Her sister find her, cause tussle.

Leave her alone, she’s tired of life’s rust.

Freedom it calls, Siren nor more.


She prays, will the gods release and bless —

Her? Let her be human, lust —

As a woman; not to thirst for blood’s rush.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


Her prayers, they’re answered, she’s less —

No longer, living forever, but —

Mortal who can love a man, keep trust.

Freedom it calls, Siren no more.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserve.

Fiction, Free Verse, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, Music Review, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Angel Down, Angel Down” #amwriting #poetry #angeldown #ladygaga


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage prompt: 

http://www.mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com

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Lady Gaga Live – ” Angel Down” 

I’m so thrilled with Lady Gage’s new album. I love her dance and pop-music stuff but her new songs, some of them go deep. This is one of those songs and I used the lyrics “Angel Down” for this poem. What I love is how in the video she is live, and sounds the same as if you were listening to her on her new album. Talented singer! 

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She built her life, she built it strong, made it so —

It wouldn’t fall;but you can fortify —

The keep, make it so no one can slip in, 

There are always cracks within perfection; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

You can see the lines forming before she breaks, 

Memories from the past she thought would save. 

She’s safe –an illusion broken when the mirror —

Of life shatters within her face, she’s beat; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——

Trapped in a birdcage, no song to sing, 

Her tunes aren’t lucid and her wings are clipped, 

Such dreams as a young woman, such glad times, 

Now she’s angry, so frustrated — life’s a lie; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Paints her makeup mask, hide the mirror’s blood tracks, 

She thinks she’s imperfect tries to conceal —

New dress, she’s pretty, long legs on display yet, 

She can’t hide feelings, she doesn’t fit in here;

Angel Down, Angel Down

—–

He said heels were stupid, girls can’t walk on —

Four-inch needles; yet they made her happy.

Night of the dance, stumbled; wore light blue chucks,

Sitting on the radio at the party crying; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——

Years pass, another day spent sifting in, 

Her see-through life, on clothing racks, she —

Attempts to find the perfect fit,  but she —

Knows like her, it’s elusive, can’t be found; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

——-

Music saves some, for others it magnifies

A hurt and hole inside her –can God even fill? 

Remembering hideaways, experiences —

To fill the void within, smile with tears dripping;

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

——-

Time in lavish living rooms, won’t make her, 

Feel love she’s so denied; she can’t even —

Love her own body, isn’t what it was, 

She fingers trinkets bought, fears with tears smear; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—-

Jewel she thought would invoke good memories, 

Fill her with hope and joy again; sharp pains of —

Her past; but now her wings have been pried off,  

She’s a habiscus plucked and dying slow; 

Angel Down, Angel Down.

—–

Packing suitcases, her body trembles, 

She’s going on journey; her state of mind —

Broken; but she’s trying to heal and she —

Prays new memories, stop her rapid descent; 

Angel Down, Angel Down. 

—–

Please somebody, please help an Angel Down and —

Unlock her cage –the one she created, 

Show her some love, let her taste freedom. 

Be someone she can trust, so she won’t fade;

Angel Down, Angel Down 

—–

Angel found her feet and flew, 

Sailed above clouds anew;

The sun glints of her smile and–

She’s brand new bird who trills;

Angel Found,  Angel Found. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Nature, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Missed The Rocks #3LineTales #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting a#3LineTales:

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Credit: William Bout

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Darkness was stealing the light of day, taking my weary breath away; I prayed while the cold, careless ocean ripped my feet from the pathway of stone I stumbled down, attempting to reach the lighthouse door. 

The storm raged and the sound of thunder, a giant drum rumbled and the clash of lightening frightened me; but above me the lighthouse torch glimmered, a shining beacon glowing in the dark for any passing ship –in my heart grew hope dimly. 
I wondered how the Captain of the grand ship approaching, could see when the night was black and the shadow seemed to overcome us both; but I, as was the ships Captain, was blind to think darkness could swallow light; as the gleam of the lighthouse blended with the dawn, I was thankful to have survived a dreadful night, stuck outside the lighthouse door, no one to hear my quivering knocks; the storm surrounded me and roared while I witnessed the grand ship barely miss the rocks — the lighthouse torch grew brighter, just in time. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

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http://www.motaen.com

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When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Vallinella: aba aba aba aba aba abba, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Kennings – Vallinella – “Mermaid- Creature”


img_1070-2

And finally, our prompt (optional, as always)! Today’s prompt comes to us from Vince Gotera, who suggests a prompt very much in keeping with our poet in translation, a “kenning” poem. Kennings were riddle-like metaphors used in the Norse sagas. Basically, they are ways of calling something not by its actual name, but by a sort of clever, off-kilter description — for example, the sea would be called the “whale road.” Today, I challenge you to think of a single thing or person (a house, your grandmother, etc), and then write a poem that consists of kenning-like descriptions of that thing or person. For example, you might call a cat a mouse-stalker, quiet-walker, bird-warner, purr-former, etc. If you’re looking for examples, you can find one that Vince wrote here and a different example here. Happy writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information. A Vallinella has a rhyme scheme of aba aba aba aba aba abba.

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http://www.getnews.jp

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Ocean-dweller, belle wave- surfer,

Tide-drifter, a seaweed-eater,

Half-woman, fish-legs, egg-birther,

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Treasure-collector, oceanic – worth,

Seashell-comb, seashell-bust, sweeter.

Shark-tamer, legendary-curse.

——

Beauty-fish, plankton-biter, search.

Tiny-fish-eater, a man-eater?

Drowner of surface-walker, worst.

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Water- woman, seeker-of -worth,

Gill-breather, and ocean-drifter,

Feet-wisher, mammal-fish, girl-cursed.

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Torso-woman, beauty-birther,

Man-drowner, and sailor-sleeper,

Sirene-kin, folklore-maid at first.

—–

Salted-skin, dreamer-fish, surges.

Walking-fish, fairytale-wisher,

Sweet-girl, sailor-terror, whispers.

Secret-keeper, courage-maid, lures.

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Pirates of the Carribean 4: Mermaid Scene

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem:Free Verse – “Fleeting”


Thanks to The Daily Prompt for the prompt word fleeting.

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download (3)
http://www.kids-myshot.nationalgeographic.com
Considerably, much time in life is fleeting,

Even this moment passing now, it was a cheat —

We didn’t know we’d never get the moment back,

But it’s gone forever, clever, a moment we lack.

Fleeting, means something isn’t here long,

We need our best attempt, to remember it’s song,

When all our moments are gathered at the end of life,

We will see life was fleeting, for it’s pain and strife.

Perhaps, we will only picture meaningful times,

Laughing with loved ones, and considering old rhymes.

Pieces of poetry and prose, leading us through each day,

Thinking, and contemplating words, as they play,

At the end of days, it’s hard to say, what will be important.

I think for our time with our families, we’ll feel fortunate.

But if our moments are fleeting, how come they take their time,

Letting as watch the clock tick-tock, slowly, and stately, chime.

The sun may set, but it rises again; each morning so glorious.

Thinking, one day the sun won’t rise; right now it’s notorious.

It rises each day, shooting rays and light across our paths.

So when He leads us, we can go step by step and laugh.

Awaking early, only to see the breathlessness of pastel colours blend.

Photographing sky in our minds with nostalgic clarity, to rend.

Time happens so slow, but quickly when we think, how it went,

So, if you please stop saying everything is fleeting,

Instead be cheerful, and don’t forget to greet,

The people you come across in the passage of our lives.

Live each day, a wondrous burst of your best tries.

Take your time drop by drop, and spend it well, don’t cheat.

Be watchful; when moments go, they go on feet so fleet.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: “A Sunny Place.”


   

 So many thoughts, my head is all full. I guess it’s important to go outside more and face the world.

When you’re lost in a pool of ideas, and typing as if you are machine connected to a program. You need to talk to friends and not worry.

But writers become lost in their stories. They develop a strange sort of relationship with their characters.

Other people’s opinions and ideas are fresh meat for the meal, a smorgasbord of aspects to consider.

You become lost in the imaginary. In planning your next move. Outside the sky is blue and it’s only minus two degrees Celsius. 

Go for a walk and see your neighbours out with pets. Go for a coffee, meet a friend, or eavesdrop on the conversations of perfect strangers. 

Get away from the online. Social media can be exhausting. Forget about your dear internet friends, and make a new friend whose real and has a life you can hear about and talk with them.

Forget about guys who treat you badly. And forget about all the subtext behind chatting or messaging. Trying to judge what’s real with a keyboard and screen. 

Remember people build their own profile and appear who they want to be. Better to meet a guy at a bar, sadly. Better to meet someone at the grocery store or while sipping tea. 

Better to get outside and be single. Forget pressure from your ex who still wants to be together. Forget pressure from guys who only want to get laid.

There is everything to write and not enough time in the day. There is all these feelings to feel, but are they real?

Everyday is a blank page and I fill it up until I’m exhausted. I’m trying to keep busy but I don’t know how it could be busier. 

I have dreams. I’m only trying to make them real. I can’t help that my dreams are in another world and my characters are in such a state–

I have to type more words and solve their problem. I have to plan more to reach the denouement. I have to write a good story that somehow pleases me and other people. 

I need to relax under a bright sunny sky. Sitting on a beach. I think it’s been years. I need to sit in the sun and read a paperback. I need to feel sand warm beneath my feet.

I need to find a happy medium. This pace is stressful and I’m always afraid of returning to darker days. I need to make  myself real. 

I don’t want to miss connections in the outside world.I need a healthy mix of alone time and vivid memories with my friends. I’d like to try something new.

Inspiration and energy amisdt a large crowd. A beer in my hand, no wait, I’m on a diet. So, a glass of Perrier and lime juice will do, soaking up conversations, sun, and new faces. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Writing

Poem: “Rise Above It All”


 

http://www.gailbrenner.com
 
Fire and frost, polar opposites it seems. One scorches earth, the other freezes everything. Nothing rises up from ice, it keeps what is frozen hostage.

But like a Phoenix rises from a pile of embers and ash, people rise above the flame.They live and breathe to inhale tomorrow’s life.

And what of our scorched remains? We scatter our dead upon open seas, in graveyards, and they sit on the mantles above the fireplace.

When I die scatter me in the wind, of somewhere mythical and gorgeouse. Scatter my ashes in Edan; for a moment maybe the angel guardian will let you in. 

For that angel, holds a sword with fire eternally. Perhaps, he’ll recognize a twin flame, a Phoenix, rebuilding, as you scatter me softly. 

Maybe he is entranced by fire like you. Fire burns and hurts; a cool glass of water will quench an unbearable thirst. And turned to ice, water will make you unmovable at absolute zero. 

But fire can burn through ice. It melts what is solid and still; let the rising of the firey bird begin. No ice will keep her captive. She is a survivor, the mistress of the flame. 

She might burn you with her, but she’ll bring you back to life.When you wander streets in daylight and when you are at your absolute worst – you can rise out of the ashes.

You can be a Phoenix too, atleast in human terms. What bird once destroyed, is reborn in mythical elegance? If the Phoenix teaches you anything,  let it be — always rise above it all. 

When everything is darkest, you are at your best– a Phoenix bursting into flame will light the path your footsteps should reflect. 

And when the light grows dimmer and ashes are so still, let them lye. The Phoenix is not like us, her ashes need not be scattered. 

She will arise a Queen undefined and undefiled. She is the victor of the battle in Hades. She rises and breaks through, she forges, and she fights.

She is a mythical powerful and glorific bird, red as the fire in which she burns. She overcomes and lives always, to rise above it all. 

May you be like a Phoenix, don’t let life pull you down.May you rise out of the ashes of life an unquenchable fire.

Give everything your all; strengthen your character with wisdom. Learn to battle and to pick your fights for the Phoenix is always reborn; you die once.

And like anyone rich or poor you will end up in a box or urn. So, scatter me, scatter you, to the wind so we may burn and be reborn on the flights of rain, embers in a drop; a miracle formed. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.