#NaPoWriMo Day 16: Poem: “Whirlwind” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriPo Day 16: Just my own poem for this day, written awhile ago.


Credit: Twinsfish via Unsplash.


There’s this whirlwind, a dervish,

Often, I cant escape it.

This sucking of air from lungs, a lack of patience;

I used to have every moment in the world:

It took forever for it to run out,

And I’m relearning this skill.

Some think they can be impatient,

Rudely shove past people, those who deserve it;

But, you can try to listen,

Even if they’re not listening or repeating —

Something you’ve heard one thousand times.

Sometimes you bite your tongue

Stop the meandering mental pathways —

Your questions; remember everyone has had a long day too.

Slide out of the tornados eye;

Through the winds blinding, and binding, confiding your sense of balance.

Dance out of the dust, mud, rain, waves, the anger;

Sometimes you breathe deep,

Turn your lips into a smile, pretend you agree,

Say nothing, let your temper settle.

Remember that simple explanations are best,

That the multiple pathways and methods ‘sense-making’ in your mind;

Is not the way logic works for all others.

So, you shut up, say nothing, until you can explain well,

Without the background, the twists, and stormy turns.

Without repeated words and salesmen tricks;

So, in the end you say thank you,

And in your head, “Go away.”

Because some people are having a horrible day,

And you’ve been there too.

Because it’s hard to serve others and be sunshine 24-7;

Because it’s not worth the damage —

To argue; state the simple truth.

Let others be horrid, be sympathetic;

And charm each angered stranger,

Because maybe after the theatrics are over,

Two can meet for a moment’s truth.

Two can comprehend without rabbit holes,

Without side-questions or insults underhanded.

You can roar sometimes,

But choose your fights wisely.

Deep breathe and stall a second first.

Some strangers aren’t worth the effort,

Some friends aren’t worth the tears;

There are a vast amount of reasons to not lash-out,

Mostly, because the aftermath tells us,

Tiny things aren’t so significant in the giant picture.

One awful experience, does not define a person;

And is likely a second you’ll forget.

Be calm in the whirlwind,

Be kind, and let patience flow.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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#OctPoWriMo Day 19/Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Free Love” #amwritingpoetry #photochallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 19, the prompt is “What Do You Want?” I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.


Credit: PrettyScary@DeviantArt

They say when you breath slow, head between your legs,
When your mind works out things,
Your lost words will flicker home.
You’ll not feel drained, the sky’ll end hailing;
You’ll soak up the rain, a starving tulip, not cowering.
There are ways to feed your soul, and feed mouths.
And you try to listen inside,
to the conscience that knows only His tones.
I have plans, great journeys ahead;
I plan for you to prosper and bloom despite your frail limbs.
Yet, I scramble; I’m turning up rocks as I limp;
Tilling this garden, as my hands bleed life.
Dirt acrid, stuck in my nails, tattooed on my skin,
An oder I’ll not forget —fresh, as the dew on the grass after the storm;
Nose-wrinkling pungent, life’s essence.
I peer into the vastness, to the valley where I beg to rest.
I’m tumbling with trepidation; I’m scared of unknown sensations.
I’m pushing against the grain — I’m not easily killed, defeated as weeds by chemicals and garden gloves.
Lie near me on the peppermint grass, stroke my hair as it floats ‘round my face;
Loose on the grass as whiskey, as in the pale chinook winds, we find peace and relax.
Lie beside me, for I am weary of fighting alone;
I don’t know how to carry your burdens — our burdens or mine.
My eyes slip closed and I sleep in Neverland,
Lost girl fierce, but never little.
Still, I’m the determined pink daisy as a-new-day’s sunlight feeds my soul;
So, nourish it well dear one, and for your love, don’t ask so much that I break.
Feed my soul, hear my prayers, Lord.
Sometimes I’m the wilting violets, the frost slips in as fingertips black pluck at my leaves, my frozen petals.
Feed my soul, and answer its song.
Have I chosen right?
Or, am I gliding towards a ledge,
More than hanging my toes over a bit;
Am I free falling towards darkness and sin?
Or, am I trying to trust, to hope, and to love?
A entrepreneur for authenticity and someone whose love sets us both free.
Oh Lord, am I free wheeling to death?
A cat who’s twitched too late before the coyotes growl at bay;
Before mistakes will cost me dear.
Yet, in the end, my love and I are asleep in the grass, Protect our small worlds,
I can’t find the answers and each day we struggle.

Hear our petitions when we forget, you carry us both when we stumble — even when we can neither find free love, but from you.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneers/ Three Things: Fiction – “Even the Small” #amwriting #FridayFictioneers #fiction


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff for hosting the Friday FictioneersFlash Fiction of only 100Words. I’ve combined with the 3ThingsChallenge and the words: mattress, golf ball, and green.


Credit: Ted Strutz

We stroll as winds of cooled-heat kiss our skin. The scorch of daylight has faded and twilight means relief, a chance to escape the apartment. Even with a fan, the heat stifles me above my mattress.

I hurry, trying to match the boys’ strides, as mint chocolate chip dribbles down my chin. In the harbor, fishing boats and small yachts reside. To our right is the country club, and an immaculate golf course with greens.

Come dusk, the club turns into the local bar. Sleek design, can’t hide embellished tales, years of laughter and midnights carousing. At night, the patrons care not for decor or social status, but to forget. At night everyone has a story worth telling — even the small.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 23/ Tale Weavers: Part Two — The End of The Affair #taleweavers #amwriting #fiction


For November Notes Day 23 the song prompt is “Heal Over”by K.T. Tunstall and I’m combining with Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Taleweavers prompt on dust.

Credit: Rhianon Lassila via Unsplash


“Heal Over” by K.T. Tunstall


Read Part One HERE.

Giselle didn’t leave her house until the afternoon. Later, she threw on her down-coat and ran outside into the frigid winter to her midnight Honda. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Also, she decided she needed to be among people, having a few drinks. She couldn’t let herself regret turning Jimmy away.

Her body began shaking as she sat in the Honda’s drivers seat and wept. She was over Jimmy, she’d been over him for a year. He had the nerve to call me Gigi! He had the nerve to ask for me back because Jasmine didn’t want him! Giselle’s crying ended as the warmth from her heated car soothed her body and made her forget the morning’s events.

As she wiped her cheeks the distinct ringtone “Heal Over,” played on Giselle’s iPhone. Her friend Beth was checking in on her. She didn’t think she could talk to her without crying so she waited until Beth’s ringtone stopped. Then, Giselle texted her:

Jimmy was by, Jasmine divorced him. He said he had no one and that he wanted me back. I told him to get lost. Can we go for a drink?

A couple of minutes later Beth replied:

I’m so glad you told him off. He was never good for you. Meet me at the Tavern Grill in 15 minutes, K?

Giselle had been sitting in the Tavern’s bar for a half of an hour when Beth arrived. She was also finished margarita number two. “Have one of these Beth, they’re are awesome. They make you want to dance, sing, and forget everything.”

Beth snorted. “You never could hold your liquor.”

She shrugged. ” I was fine, then, early this morning Jimmy appeared at my door. I saw it was him knocking and I thought he’d go away. After a half-an-hour he began ringing my doorbell and wouldn’t stop. I had to talk to him, but I didn’t let him in the house.”

Giselle brushed her side-bangs out of her eyes.” I don’t blame Jasmine for divorcing him. I would’ve left the cheating b*stard too — if I had known he was married when we were dating. I don’t know how I could’ve missed it, thinking back; I was so naive.”

Beth laughed, ” It was too hard to tell you that Jimmy was a cheating b*stard a year ago. It seemed that you couldn’t escape the trail of dust and destruction Jimmy left you in; it was a perpetual cycle for you guys. It was a relief when he broke it off with you. And yes, you were naive, but not anymore.”

“It was painful when Jimmy chose Jasmine. I felt so stupid and I didn’t know my heart could hurt like that. It was six-months before I felt normal again.”

Beth sighed, tapping her nude-pink manicured nails. “Breaking up with you was the best thing Jimmy ever did. When you texted me I was afraid you were going to say you two had made up.”

“Never.”

“Awesome, Jimmy’s not a good guy and never will be.”

Giselle nodded but Beth grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Do not go back to him, Gigi. Don’t take his calls. Avoid him at all costs. Be strong like you were this morning; you owe him nothing.”

“I’m done with Jimmy, Beth. Truly, I mean it.”

She patted Giselle’s hand. “Look lady, sometimes life is hard and it’s gonna take time to forget about the good times with Jimmy. But you’ve been without him a year and you’re gonna be fine. So, in the meantime, let’s order another few margaritas and some appetizers. Let’s celebrate severing your last connection to Jimmy.”

Giselle raised her third margarita. “Cheers, to that. But you don’t have to wipe my tears away, Beth, I’m a big girl.”

“I know you are but I’m your friend. I’m here to remind you, you’re gonna keep healing and soon, Jimmy will be a distant memory.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 21/Sunday Photo Fiction: The End of the Affair #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. I’m combining SPF with November Notes Prompt Day 21 “Great Escape” by Gavin James.


Credit: Alistair Forbes — A Mixed Bag


“Great Escape” by Gavin James


Giiselle shivered, slipping out of bed. It was 7:00 a.m. and Jimmy had been knocking on her front door for a half-an- hour. The knocking continued as she made a strong cup of Irish Breakfast tea. Stop! Just stop knocking, leave me alone!

The knocking ended and the long loud ringing of her doorbell commenced. Giselle swore, unlocking her front door and throwing the screen door open. “What the hell do you want? It’s 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “You’re being rude. We need to talk about us, the way we were. Until we talk I can’t sleep, so why should I let you?”

Giselle grabbed her down coat and stepped outside. She zipped it up, burying her hands in her pockets. ” The good old days are gone, Jimmy. We’re not together. I don’t care if you can’t sleep.”

“Gigi, listen. What’s between us is more than attraction. I love you for real, always have.”

“We haven’t been together for a year. This isn’t some mistake we made that we can just laugh about someday. I was the other woman and you had a wife.”

Giselle polked Jimmy’s chest. “You decided to try to work things out with her; you chose Jasmine over me. Our affair was always a delicate game and now it’s over.”

Jimmy groaned, “You were my great escape at a dark time in my life. Jasmine divorced me months ago, I’m not married. We can start again.”

“We’ve been down this road before and I’m done. I forgive you but I can’t forget how much you hurt me.” He laid his hand on Giselle’s shoulder.

She turned gazing into his red-rimmed gray eyes. “You’re not the one for me, Jimmy. I was naive to think a married man like you ever was. It doesn’t matter that you’re divorced now.”


©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Experiences Penned” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver’s writing prompt a few weeks back. The prompt theme is ‘The Writerly Persuasion.’ 

———

Credit: Sergey Zolkin via Unsplash

——–

Inked stained hands, 

Crook in neck, 

Yoga relieving aches.

‘Limberness;’ 

Word searching for. 

Scribbling schedule, 

Deadlines, vital tasks. 

Words appear, 

Forced to write. 

Hen-pecking, 

iPads don’t use, 

Primary school, 

Typing skills. 

Words blurring, 

Distancing self, 

Eat healthy, 

Drink cold tea. 

Meals on timer, 

Or I’ll forget. 

Inspiration shimmers, 

Imagination entwining. 

Eyes seeking —

Punctuation; 

Repeated words, 

Grammar errors, 

Flow, organization. 

1:00 p.m. beginning, 

1:00 a.m. now. 

Sometime in there, 

Watered plants, 

Walked. 

Sleep anesthetizes, 

Creative mind spins, 

Dreams — the other world, 

From where night, 

Experiences are penned. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem- Bop – “The Waves Call — Forget” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Louise – The Storyteller’s Abode

———

Forget all your cares come play in the sand, 

Forget the whole world, your work, all your plans.

The day’s a sunny bright yellow sapphire,

Lemon drops in the sky, lay back respire. 

The air here is fresh, ocean salted breaths,

 Ponder the waves, forget life’s a mess.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

Life can be a barbed wire fence keeping out,

Trapping  you within the cluttered house. 

When you try to get out, take the fence down,

The barbs of your wall pierce your hands– you frown.

Watch the tear drops, the blood drops compile, 

Regrets; tears burn tomorrow’s hope with ire. 

So escape the fence, leave the caged prison,

Yonder lies the beach, waves rise, spark freedom.

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

You don’t have to impress anyone here,

Close your eyes and nap; read a book, dear. 

A story well known or a new one found;

Floppy hat, sunscreen, ice cream downed

Hear the gulls cry, squish toes in the sand,

No need to be aware, just understand —

In the ocean hear the waves call — forget.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Where Ever You Go” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesday


Thanks to the lovely Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays.

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Credit: Scott Webb

———

This is your city, you may go where go, 

There is no divide, don’t sit, move with flow. 

Find your own kind, your worth is innate, 

A lust for adventure, has a mind not to wait.

Find your hopes, your dreams, in side streets and aves, 

Life is never what it seems, it’s about diverse paths. 

Meander down the walkways, from stores to the slums, 

Some have wealth and talk the talk, some are treated mute and dumb. 

Be not afraid to love everyone, 

Not as your sweetheart loved, but as a person, a human. 

The city is grand full of sweet times to be had, 

As you move through the days understand, be glad, 

You are granted time, to do what you love, 

To explore, with a sense of chance, to care for the unloved. 

Be kind and contrive, a life full of memories, 

Experiences survived, wherever you are led, 

Go with purpose and never forget you serve

Are blessed to be, and help others persevere. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 1 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – Kay Ryan – “The Big Bad Wolf” #amwriting #napowrimo #poetry #quotes #AtoZchallenge #2017




Today’s National Poetry Writing Challenge is to write a poem in the style of a famous American poet named Kay Ryan. She writes poetry with “short, tight lines, rhymes interwoven throughout, maybe an animal or two, and, if you can manage to stuff it in, a sharp little philosophical conclusion,” and today’s prompt is to write a poem like her. See an example of her poetry in the above link.

Also here is my A to Z Challenge at the very last minute yes, I know. A book quote that matches the poem everyday according to the author’s name alphabetically. 

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Credit: http://www.pinterest.com


———-

You are the stories and incidents that you never tell to anyone. You are the thoughts that you get while standing under the shower. You are those memories that won’t lets you sleep at night peacefully. You are those words that you will never say while speaking with someone. You are those scars that you always hide from everyone. You are those little secrets that you will never let the world know. You are everything that you hide under the identity that you call the real you.”― Akshay Vasu

————

The crux of,

The problems,

The issues,

Tearful tissues;

The wishes,

Dead fishes,

Expecting to —

Much; life is —

A state of flux,

Waiting to,

Push you,

Into the great,

Unknown; where we’re

Gliding no longer.

Hiding behind,

Pictures of,

Parrots so,

Bright we,

Blend in.

Obscurity,

Fashions a —

Camaflouge.

No passion,

Distracted by,

Parrots squawking.

Beyond that,

We’re talking.

They are dead;

Birds who were,

Mimicking,

What we’re trying,

To forget.

Such as wolves,

Who are hidden,

Beneath a sheep’s

Grating wool;

Knowing first,

The value of,

Wool and —

The silence,

Of peace,

Seeping into,

Weakened bones;

Where we don’t

Have to be sheep,

Are tranquil as

The big bad,

Wolf puffing.

———

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


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

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Credit: Laura Williams

———

Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.