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.

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Poem: Free Verse – “Silver and Gold” #poetry #amwriting


http://www.thecollegeinvestor.com

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Please Listen Below: 

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​Forged in Silver and Gold,
My legs in Bronze wrapped.

Precious metals, the artist molds.

Silver and Gold; precious and cold.

You never let me attach;

Though you feel my skin,

Your most beloved metal.

The artist in me approves,

As you etch my form, and carve,

The length of my body in Silver and Gold.

The Gold of my hair, burnished with Bronze.

The Silver of my pale skin,

Gemstones for my eyes;

The bluest of Sapphires.

More shadow in the glitter,

Masks the deception we share.

Hides my introspection, pain on the inside,

How you could hurt me?

Sketching my soul?

With your golden hands;

So tanned from your heritage,

Creating art with our beauty.

As the Ancient Greek and Romans,

Perfection in Silver and Gold bodies.

You sketch and you etch,

You carve, curves and sensations,

With Silver and Gold,

Caressing my body,

Destroying my core.

My heart and my soul,

The edge of reason fading,

Quicksilver in my veins draining.

Etching you back,

Silver and Gold, for my chosen;

Highlighting your scars,

Diamond gems bright.

Silver and Gold; until I am old,

My body you fashion in Silver and Gold,

Taking and talking, performance art.

My artfulness; your artfulness,

Mutual thirst, for precious metals slaked.

Ag and Au the atomic symbols,

In movements like music,

Golden pixie dust brightens the air,

Silver dust on my eyelids, your cheeks.

Fly me to the Neverland;

Let’s escape the rabbit holes.

Paint our trail flying in Silver and Gold.

I’ve nothing but my heart,

For you my most precious metal.

Silver, Gold, and gems, your body imparts,

Hoping there is more at your core;

In your heart, and in your soul.

Something warm and soft,

The dust from precious metals as pillows pulled of feathers.

Hurt me not; forget me not,

Love me with your Golden skin.

Your Bronze eyes alight and brilliant;

Silver and Gold, we’ve no control,

When the talk turns to whispers;

We blossom and glisten, sweat beading,

Golden and Silver;

My scars so deep glimmer,

Created to highlight the Silver in my skin.

Of Gold so entranced,

Your enthralling hands;

Touch me and multiply the treasure.

You cannot melt me down;

I’m quicksilver on your tongue,

Solid Silver in your grip;

Trapped by your Bronze eyes.

Silver and Gold, in the rise of sun,

King Midas, his work done.

Silver lips give you a kiss,

Beg for your shimmering touch.

As the sun beats down,

The most Golden light,

Of all the light known,

Creator has granted in Silver and Gold.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: Triolet – ” Being Complete” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt word incomplete.

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http://www.portauthorityarchive.com
 

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Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Words forgotten while talking, in instant.

Writing tests for school, answers won’t release.

Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Buying into a condo, bank won’t give lease.

Putting together wrong ingredients redundant, 

Puzzle at a wooden table missing pieces,

Words forgotten while talking, in instant.

—–

Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Incompleteness a feeling, we conceal,

Not feeling whole, no other half, you’ve seen —

Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Why can’t you be complete in yourself and lead,

Others to be incharge of feeling too revealed.

Moments in life where nothing fits the way it needs,

Incompleteness a feeling, we conceal.

—–

Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation.

You’re stronger then you think, a mighty Queen.

Don’t need to be grande, a strong sensation.

Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation,

No incompleteness here, for information.

Strength is a quality, forged unseen,

Be who you’ll be, don’t need acclamation.

You’re stronger then you think, a mighty Queen.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.