#OctPoWriMo Day 30/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “ The Occult Shop” #poetry #photochallenge #dVerse 


For OctPoWriMo Day 30 the prompt theme is forbidden. As per usual I’m combining prompts with Bodhirose’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub open link night prompt and Scribblers Dip of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie ‘s Photo Prompt Challenge. 

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Credit: © Richard Davis Photography

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Barbara the Methodist walks by —

Aging, cluttered shop, holds head high.  

Her morals don’t permit feeling —

Curious she crosses busy street. 

Readings of palms of one’s future —

Advertised; she considers curtly. 

Blouse buttoned to her neck, arms folded, righteous ire,  

Prays curiousity won’t condemn her to the fire. 

——

Martin the mailman delivers —

Packages with symbols, riddles. 

Cashier is a friendly goth kid, 

Worn man watching frightens Martin.

Knows things he shouldn’t know all too well. 

Secrets hid deep, Martin’s own hell; 

Tortured with memories from a childhood of sad hurt, 

Old man offers help, revenge with a strange voodoo curse. 

—-

Danielle at the cash register, 

Peers around her, bad vibes incur. 

Items of witchcraft and pagan —

Jewelry of Celtic design. 

From eons ago polished bright,

Such treasures blend, occult sights. 

Shop’s wage pays well, most customers tip buying —

Items for potions and ailments — she’ll keep silence. 

—-

Ancient face with creased folds knows much —

Desires that he did not so he plucks, 

Courage from reserves to see Barb. 

Prudish and angry inferring, 

He has a choice in knowing fortunes. 

She sneers, he revealed misfortunes —

No matter her believed goodness her false piety, 

Barb sees herself righteously  forbidden

——

From the likes of magic healing, 

Holistic meds as blood congeals, 

In her heart which is dark damning;

Others beaming hope as Barb fans, 

Smoke of incense by the mailman.

Sniffs at Danielle’s tattoos all grand, 

Demands for him to read her hand, doesn’t know facts, 

Barbara the hateful sees not, he reads hearts and fates. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


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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. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “My Other Half” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo prompt:

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http://www.inspirationfeed.com

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There are two-sides to me,

One you will hardly see.

She only comes out one night,

When the orb of the full moon frightens and blinds. 

She marks her time trapped, on my back,

Pacing inside me, my evil twin.

Each day I feel the pain she creates;

Carving out another tick, counting the days —

With her burning sharpie;

Writing on me with acid.

She takes the days five at a time;

Slowly each night I feel her poison,

But I shut her in, shut her down tight.

She is buried and not to be found,

When I call all light towards me. 

—–

Yet I have no power,

When her strength is full,

When the monster prowls, 

When it snaps its teeth for blood. 

The werewolf inside,

Biding her time,

Until now, when the moon is full and round;

She spits and she howls,

Her teeth sharp tiny daggers. 

She comes out from the floorboards,

The darkest dankest corner of my soul. 

Her prison she erupts from, no longer trapped,

She unfolds her wrath on all who pass, brings terror;

Clawing at me, shredding me for fun,

Because she knows when the night is done,

I’ll have my strength of luminous sparks again.

The light of the day will flow through me,

Cascading through my body,

Repairing all wounds.

But for tonight she roams the earth,

A horrifying hell monster with claws that hurt;

She shreds my insides, reminds me how small I am,

That she is all powerful and will one day win our war.

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But I am growing less afraid,

And I have time to be patient.

The night it ends, she’s back in her cage,
Marking me with acidic ink, every night,

 Until when next the moon is full bright —

She’ll break free of my skin, 

The torture will begin.

But yesterday night she didn’t come out? 

There was no fight to lock her in;

I think she’s trapped inside me, for good? 

And I’m claiming back my skin,

Healing all her burning marks 

Becoming someone new.

My other half is dead I think,

I don’t feel her uncoiling, 

Scrartching her way through my defence.

My plan conceived it ruined her.

And in slumber I locked her thrice, 

Poisoned her in sleep.

So the only place she’ll terrorize —

Is her own dreams and I think she quite deserves, 

The nightmares promised her, 

For all eternity;

Sickly wicked sister, gone at last. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved