#NaPoWriMo Day 10/Photo Challenge: “Rabbit’s Play” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge #MLMM


For Day 10 NaPoWriMo the Prompt is: to ” write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once.” Also, thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.


Credit: Alpha Coders


You locked the door shut;

I threw away the key.

Door slamming, the house shook,

It wasn’t rejection —

Claws of tiger digging,

It wasn’t the ache spiralling,

A corkscrew in my clavicle.

It wasn’t fatigue,

The floating leaves crackling,

Fall’s sudden chill,

Winter’s stark sting.

Words uninviting,

But a spade is a spade;

Your kindness a shark,

Large teeth, tail flicking.

Lies the black stripes,

Safari orange fur —

Mangled with spite,

Hidden behind decency.

The beast maimed;

Honesty infringed.

No intelligible motives,

As teeth rip to shreds.

But she set herself up,

And a spade is a spade.

The true queen reigns,

Not in dungeon’s keep.

The lady in red,

On her pedestal;

Floats and crackles,

Autumn’s crisp maple leaves,

Ragged and torn.

You’re better than that?

But he’s not.

Obese — vile words,

A tiger disgusted.

A question —

I crept into the den,

He was offended,

And I was prey,

Amusing —

With no matter.

His last words, claw cuts–

Sinking inside deep,

Where my stomach turns.

The ruby sun rose,

Blood flowed and flowed.

All because I have no control —

Because I was not born,

Demure and petite;

He spurned my art,

Thus, spurned my chest.

Three-years younger,

He’s thirteen years too young —

Inside.

But I bated the beast,

Naturally, his teeth revealed.

Tiger perplexed,

Slinking back to the den.

His side gapes,

Licking his wounds;

No winning against him,

In this game —

Not his type.

Inside his ribs,

Fat where is soul should be —

Deceit.

He thinks he knows,

But he can’t envision.

He has judged,

Growling a retort.

She laughs,

The rabbit slips away.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Mothers . . . #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

——–

Credit: Alistair Forbes – A Mixed Bag

———

“Really this is disgusting, Michael. Buy yourself a new keyboard, they aren’t that expensive. This one’s beyond the reach of Mr. Clean or Lysol wipes. I don’t even think compressed air would move anything.”

“Mum, leave me alone. I’m playing games.”

“Oh, like Super Mario? And what’s that one? Oh, yeah, the one where the guys a pimp and kills all those hookers and sells drugs?” 

“It’s called —”

“I just want to play can I? I know you have that Guitar Hero one and I swear I bought you a dance one.”

“Oh, ah. It wasn’t my thing sold that dance one. And the one with the hookers was ‘Grand Theft Auto.’ I don’t think you’d like that one Mom.”

“Why not?”

“It’s pretty gory . . .”

“I heard all about it from my friend at work, Michael. She played it when she was sick a few days, at home. Took her a bit but she figured it out.”

“Mom, I don’t want you playing that game. Besides I’m playing Warcraft. . .”

“Who’s the Mom here? I want to play that game.”

“Okay Mom, I’ll buy a new keyboard. I’ll order one now. Please let me play Warcraft in peace?”

“Well. . . ”

Michael grumbled to himself and pushed his Mom gently out of his room before locking the door behind him. Mothers . . .

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Prompt: Poetry – Ballad – “Jolly Sailor Bold” (Reworked) #amwriting #poetry #mermaids 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt, focusing on having a Refrain in a song/poem/prose; some kind of repeating phrase. Also, I’m including and reworking lyrics to “My Jolly Sailor Bold,” from Pirates of The Carribean Four: On Stranger Tides, using Disney’s words as a Refrain or chorus and my own for the verses.

See HERE for original lyrics. 

——

Credit: http://www.devianart.com by Isismaathapy.

——

Once there was a lass and she, 

Didn’t fit at home, said Mum:

“Be gone girl,” so she went, roamed, 

Wandering the earth, she’d hum. 

—-

They say she was a fey girl with, 

Eyes gleaming like stormy seas, 

She cared little much for love, 

Little much did life, her please.  

—-

One evening in the moonlight, 

Her fair voice sang a song.

A mournful melody cried, 

For her jolly sailor longed.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold.”

—–

They say he swam away, 

In shipping built his good name. 

His ship sailed around the world, 

He recalled his love, her games.

—–

She watched for him each sun –

Set, she went about each day.

Crying sadly for her sweetheart, 

Sailor she feared lost and astray.

—-

He thought nothing of her tears,

No thoughts of her at all;

Coming home he brought a wife,

 A final jump made girl fall

—-

Mermaids saved the young girl, 

A woman-fish swam so free;

Sang out to foolish sailors, 

“Come join me in the sea.” 

—-

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold.” 

—-

“Jolly Sailor Bold” sung by Gemma Ward

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Collage Prompt: #Fiction – Alice Series – Wild and Untamed #amwriting #aliceinwonderland #alicethroughthelookingglass


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

——-

MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——-

Alice was home from school. She hated boarding school, but she hadn’t had a choice. Her father had insisted his daughter have the best education a girl could have. This meant school was not merely academics as it was for boys. Her boarding school was an all girls boarding school and a great deal of focus was put into “the finishing school” aspect of education for women. 

She needed to learn how to be a proper hostess and wife; those were the ideals of the Victorian woman. She needed to be the angel in the house, the moral compass of her household. 

Alice spent countless classes based on the proper religion for an English girl. The God her school taught about, was an an angry God; judgemental and all powerful. He didn’t seem particularly forgiving. But she was told doing her duty as woman would make God happy. 

Alice and her best friends Margaret and Prudence, often liked to cause trouble. They played tricks and sometimes skipped their more tedious classes. The girls were often punished with rulers smacking their hands soundly until they couldn’t feel them. Or writing lines of verses from The Bible until their fingers were too numb to write or days. 

 All in all, the school couldn’t punish Alice and her friends how the would’ve punished other girls. Her and her friends were daughters of enomoreous patrons of the girl’s school. 

That being said, Alice was excited to go home for the summer. She thought fondly of her childhood, her dreams that always wandered to her childhood fantasy world Wonderland. 

——

When the carriage dropped her off, Alice approached her home with a bit of trepidation. Her mother had been angry she had left flowers all over the headmasters office. The man had almost had a heart attack and Alice had laughed and laughed when she heard what he discovered. Bringing her suitcase with her, she opened the front door. 

Suddenly, the house started to move in various directions from the front entrance.  Staircases opened from every way, along with doors leading to God knows where. 

Alice had a peculiar feeling, she was travelling back to her childhood world. Staircases continued to rumble and groan as they moved. Leaving her suitcase, Alice jumped onto a staircase leading to a familiar giant golden door knob with a large decorated keyhole underneath.

Suddenly, the door knob sneezed. “You again. I thought I’d seen the last of you.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“Alice, yes? I remember. I had a cold last time you were here too; although, you’ve grown since then. Thinned out too, you were a bit fat for awhile, all that bread.” 

She gasped, “Excuse me, the ideal woman these days, has a round body with childbearing hips, my teachers told me and my mother agrees. And you aren’t even real. I’m dreaming.” 

“I wish the staircases would stop moving and the rest of the house weren’t so confusing. I have no idea where to go and I really was looking forward to a nap, ” Alice complained. 

The giant door knob sneezed again. “No Alice, I know you and you know me. You know us all. It’s been a while and you’ve blocked us out. We tried to visit, but you convinced yourself we were all childhood dreams, despite having been to Wonderland twice.” 

“You do play delightful tricks at school, I must say –you, Margaret, and Prudence. You should’ve brought them along . . . Then again, they wouldn’t believe Wonderland is real either. They don’t believe in magic, but you do. Oh, you deny it Alice but you do believe. You wouldn’t be back here if you didn’t,” the door knob lectured. 

Alice stomped her foot, “You’re not real.” 

“I am indeed, open me. Better yet, have some of that bread you like so much, in your left pocket first; it should do the trick.” 

She gasped and frowned when she put her hand in her pocket and found the delicious bread. She nibbled on the edge. Alice hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She took a bigger bite of bread and sighed with pleasure. 

“Not too much,” the door knob cautioned. She sniffed and raised her nose at him; she had shrunk in size considerably. Carefully, Alice turned the icky runny door knob nose, she needed no key. She stepped into another world; wiping her hands on her skirt, before gazing up in shock. 

—–

Alice truly was in the Wonderland of her youth. It appeared to be the same as she dreamt it to be. A path lay in front of her and she saw her body had become small. The grass and foliage around Alice was lush and towered over her.

She started to think of her old Wonderland friends when she came upon a catapillar on a large mushroom.”But you’re a butterfly now,” she said to the catapillar without thinking. 

The catapiller sniffed at her and took a long drag from his hookah. “Who are you? Have you figured it out yet? Time does pass. My great-grandfather spoke of you. Time doesn’t move so fast here. He’s out flying about and I’m waiting until I can fly too. Why have you returned?” 

Alice blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I went through a doorway talked to a door knob, shrank, and now I’m here. It’s not a dream is it?” 

The catapullar laughed, taking another drag. “I assure you. It’s all quite real. There’s a pathway going that way,” he pointed to his right. “You should go there. It leads somewhere important.” 

“I see it’s a dock and we’re below it. It’s so large. Should I go below it in the sand? Or should I grow larger and go ontop of the dock. It’s quite big when you’re only six-inches tall.” 

The catapillar laughed,  inhaling his hookah promptly after . “There you go insulting those of us only six-inches tall again. Do you have bread in your pocket to grow taller?” 

Alice searched in her right pocket, “No bread but I think the mushroom you are laying upon has one side which will make me larger. Alice ate of one side which made her shrink more, than climbed up the mushroom to eat off the other side. She grew until she was her normal size again. 

“Curious and curiouser,” she said. “This is all too familiar. I hope there’s no seagull who thinks I’m a serphant ready to eat her young.” 

“You can say that again,” the catapillar said smirking. He bowed his head as Alice walked off, having shoved a piece of mushroom in her right pocket for future use.

She walked ontop of the dock until there was nothing but a short stairwell leading to a row boat in the sea. She recalled this moment in her second journey to Wonderland. But there should be a sheep somewhere she reasoned. 

On que a sheep appeared and they both rowed off into the sea, but it wasn’t really a sea. Alice thought it was more like a river. The sheep said: “Bahhh,” then smiled at Alice.”Hello Alice have you learned to feather yet?” 

“Oh, that’s a rowing term. I understand now. Same with catching a crab. I was so young then, sheep. I reached for those rushes remember? They’re still look and smell lovely. You can never catch the most beautiful ones, they are free.” 

The sheep bleated and sighed. “Do you ever think, Alice, that beauty is not meant to be tamed or kept?” 

“It’s a curious question coming from a sheep. But I think beauty should be left to exist and shine. You’re saying I should leave the lovely smelling rushes alone?” Alice asked. 

The sheep sighed again. “I’m not talking about rushes. You should pay attention Alice. That school you go to and those Victorian norms and rules of society, do you think they’re all correct? Do you believe everything you are taught without question?” 

Alice wrinkled her forehead and thought. “No not really. My bestfriends don’t either. It’s why we play tricks, skip classes, it’s why I sit in class bored. I do not want to be a proper woman, a tamed or kept Victorian housewife with her brood of children. I don’t want to think God is always angry and mean; I think he’s benevolent too.” 

“Ah, I didn’t think you agreed with your education. I think in the future things will be better, only wait and don’t grow-up too much. Don’t forget Wonderland –we’ll see you when you dream. We need your wildness, Alice.”The sheep bleated again and Alice instantly, woke up. 

She was riding in a carriage to her house for summer vacation. She attempted to remember her dreams. Alice swore she dreamt of Wonderland vividly. But all she could remember was a sheep telling her to stay wild and untamed. She grinned thinking of the tricks she played at school. She wasn’t a tame women yet; never if she had her way.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Day 4 – Poem – Octaine Refrain – “Set Free” #novembernotes #amwriting #poetry


Today’s prompt song is “Between the Lines” by Sara Bareillas:

——-

Between the Lines” – Sara Bareillas 

——-

“Leave unsaid unspoken / Eyes wide shut unopened / You and me / Always be / You and me /Always between the lines.” 

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

——

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

I missed the obvious closing my lids.

Was blind to what you were doing, and did.

Eyes wide opened, she appeared frustration! 

I never thought I was abandoning us. 

But was I? You turned to her, your voice hushed.  

Jealousy felt, her familiar name cuts. 

 Thought we were joined, in-between the lines. 

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

——

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

Weren’t we together in love? You’re now of me rid. 

Your life is calm; tears continueously drip. 

Abandoned me; you had hers and my trust. 

Hers meant more; glad you had time to inform, 

Not letting me know and leaving me torn. 

You on your side, me on mine, the cusp —

Grieving time wasted, never said, you hid.

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

——

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

I’ve learned much; I know where I stand amidst —

Games of the heart; I’m on my line, listen! 

Imagine telling me the truth — your lust–

Was your crime, you left me hurt, decaying.

But I’ve huge strength, I’ll find the path –my way. 

Forgetting how you treated me, threw crusts —

Of your time; set free –no longer your tryst

Happenings happening, eyes wide shut. 

——-

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “The Darkest Faeries” #amwriting #poetry #faeries


http://www.villians.wikia.com

——–

The wings of a faerie, a delicate lace.

Transparent and glowing with,

Each faeries myriad colour choice.

You can see their wings flash,

When the sun begins to set;

When echoes of the rainbow,

Give one the illusion of colours bold.

But it’s the faeries who are —

As beautiful as they’re deadly,

Luring children to their faerie lands.

Turning your infants to faeries,

To live many ages;

To play the wicked games faeries play.

—-

They’ve no offspring so they steal,

A babe fed; left in their crib.

And you a mother are distraught,

Be not surprised; it’s what faeries do.

You’ve heard the tales and watched,

As your mother, and her mother before her.

Still you cry and sob;

Picking-up your biggest kitchen knife.

Faeries are terrible beings,

We read false truth about,

They don’t actually want to help.

They’re evil when alive too long.

——-

Faeries so tiny,

Keep their race alive.

Promptly, wave their hands;

The wisps of their garments,

Sleeves like streamers trailing long.

Chanting magic ancestors taught,

They curse your darlings with bright wings.

And turn you and you husband away,

Searching for,

Your their stolen little ones.

Though you, broken-hearted mother,

You keep up the fight.

You want your children to grow,

Not become an evil faerie and —

Live a Millennium to burn.

——-

Faeries lead astray those,

Who try to capture them.

You who yearn for your babes,

To get your children home.

As faeries, your darlings grow in the blink of an eye;

Become adult faeries in days,

Not knowing they were humans young,

Merely days ago.

——

Mother’s sorely missing kids,

Are wandering the forest for —

Where ancient faeries hide.

Faeries lie to stolen babes,

Say they were unwanted,

So the faeries gave them home.

And rainbow wings to one day,

Catch the eye of yet more babes.

Lost before a parent sees,

A child stolen gone.

——

Faeries change your young,

Dawning them with gossamer wings,

Knowledge of mischief and celebration.

A faeries life is of none-stop festivity,

With little meaning;

And no knowledge do faeries posses,

But the knowledge to take;

Those you hold so dear–

It’s why you burn their wings,

In the candle lit at night;

So, they will never curse your home,

And bring you a mother’s tears,

——

Why you learned to take your knife,

And kill the old faeries weird,

To end their malicious games.

Take back your children,

Undo the magic faeries formed.

You’ll burn and stab their wings all night,

Until your children,

And your neighbour’s young,

Are finally, safe at home.

So the faeries fade away.

Die out with no offspring,

Because of you;

Your child lives.

And never will you cry again,

From a fairy interfering.

You, most feisty mother,

For your perseverance, you have won.

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Shadorma – “Disasters and gods” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #tadhana 



——–

http://www.youtube.com

———-

Beyond your, 

Control there exists, 

Such forces in–

The gods of, 

Weather and sky, who —

With pleasure torment.

——-

Killing their, 

Children, people of —

Earth they harm.

Tornadoes, 

In dry places flatten all, 

Homes; many left for dead.

——

Your typhoons, 

Come raging with wind, 

Water and, 

Take away, 

Our loved ones, disappearing  gone.

Our pets have no chance.

——-

When you gods, 

In your games, take life, 

I wonder, 

Where is your, 

Mercy and kindness; your grace? 

Murdering, no thought.

——

I wonder, 

Should I pray, not to —

You beings, 

But to gods, 

Who give a damn about life, 

Answer pleading prayers.

—–

Perhaps, an —

Intelligent designer, 

Can say to, 

Me in words, 

Why my wife he brought back to his —

Heavenly home first.

——

Why my kids, 

Have disappeared and,

I want to —

Only be–

With them all; not alone on earth.

Explain to me why you —

—–

Take in earth –

Quakes, tremors causing, 

Giant waves to–

Crush any in, 

Its powerfully hungry path.

Why such waves, hate me.

——

Why do the, 

Volcanoes in places, 

Explode and —

Take others, 

Around the world not caring, 

Indiscriminately.

——

With no thought, 

Disasters around —

Us destroy.

And they kill, 

Each year taking more and more.

Tears return again.

——-

Creator, 

New God I search for, 

Will you give, 

Me peace and —

Reassurance I will see my, 

Loved ones soon? I pray —

—–

They’re not lost–

Forever; there’s small, 

Hope in my, 

Voice to the, 

God, I now beg for to bring me–

Relief; answer prayers. 

——

Hey! This is the last post for #wordhighjuly and the Filipino word prompts. Thanks to Rosema and Maria for hosting! 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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.

 

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Looking Back on My Dad’s family.


I knew there was a prompt I forgot about this week! How could I forget the wonderful Jacqueline’s Echoes of My Neighbourhood? So, I haven’t taken any recent pictures lately but I have some more pictures looking back to the past.  

 
This wonderful warm women was my Great Grandma Kendal. She lived in Church Bridge, Saskatchewan, where my Grandma grew up. I don’t remember exactly how old she was when she died but she was in her early to mid-nineties. I have longevity in my genes. I remember visiting my Great-Grandma’s house a couple of times as a child and teenager. When I was 5-years-old and My Great Grandpa Kendal was still around, my Great Grandma Molly sang to me How Much is That Doggy in the Window and gave me some fabric and buttons to sew little pillows with, for my Barbie dolls. 

When I was about thirteen-years-old, we visited Great Grandma (her name was Molly) again. One time on the visit when everyone else was gone she told me to come and sit with her. She told me when my Grandpa Willard Eifert married my Grandma, my Grandpa had a bit of an attitude. He thought my Grandma’s farm family was a bit beneath his own family who were all highly-educated pastors and nurses. She told me it took time for my Grandpa to get over this. She also told me my Great Grandpa Phillip Kendal had a dream about heaven shortly before he died; in his dream God showed him heaven and it was beautiful in a way he could barely describe. The last thing she told me was not to cry for her when she died because she would be in heaven and happy. I didn’t cry for her, I knew better when she passed away.

  
This is my other Great Grandma on my Dad’s side, her name was Ida and she was an interesting woman. She liked to dress well, and would save up for one expensive suit, rather than buy a few cheap suites. She married my Great-Grandpa Carl Eifert who came from around Leipzig, Germany when he was a little child. Carl became a Lutheran Pastor and Ida gave birth to many children, sons who also became Lutheran Pastors and daughters who married Lutheran Pastors or became Nurses. My parents helped Great Grandma Eifert out a great deal when she still lived in her house in my home city. Later, her children moved Ida to White Rock, BC, closer to her daughters,and we visited Great Grandma Eifert there when I was a young girl. I have a memory baking cookies with her when I was three or four-years-old too.

Ida lived a long life, into her nineties as well. In fact, she passed away when I was almos fourteen-years-old, in July. When she died my family viewed her body at the funeral home. It was disconcerting to see that our hands looked exactly alike. So, I know who I inherited my hands from.

  

Two-weeks later, after Ida’s death, her son, my Grandpa Willard Eifert passed away exactly on my Birthday. It was a terrible birthday spent at the funeral home, helping Grandma pick out caskets (etc.) My Grandpa Eifert was young when he died, seventy-three-years old. I miss him so much to this day. I think his funeral was the first funeral I openly cried at. 

I was close to my Grandpa. I often slept over at his and Grandma’s house in the city. I spent time out at their parsonage near Wataskiwen when my Grandpa was still a Pastor, before he retired. My Grandpa smoked a lot until he quit in his fifties but the damage had been done. On the Eifert’s side, we have bad lungs and my Grandpa had emphysema which resulted in him having an oxygen tank eventually. When he died it was due to his smoking. His heart had been beating at a runner’s pace for twenty-years and it finally gave out. It still makes me sad because you never think the last time you see someone alive, is the last time you’ll see them. Last time I saw Grandpa he was in hospital and he said he wasn’t doing to well. We didn’t stay long.

What I remember with my Grandpa the most is all the time we spent playing chess and cribbage. I learned cribbage when I was seven-years-old and only beat my Grandpa three times at Chess ever. Twice he was tired so I don’t count those times. We played Yahtzee and Uno and deciphered cryptograms and crossword puzzles. In the mornings when I was over, I would wake up early and help Grandpa make breakfast. At the parsonage, there was tractor rides and VBS to go to at Grandpa’s Church in the summer. When Grandpa died my Godfather told me the greatest gift I could have received was my Gandpa going to heaven on my Birthday because he was no longer in pain and with his Lord.

My Grandma also pictured here, is a special lady. She is about eight-six and slowing down but doing well. I played games with her when I was younger. We also did all these fun crafts such as making our own Christmas ornaments. I helped her bake items such as Apple stroudal and homemade donuts. She was in her house until recently and is in a seniors place now. She is a kind person who loves to talk and be social. She was a great Pastor’s wife and is involved in Church to a great degree still. I need to visit her soon, she came back from a vacation seeing her sister with my Dad. Having an adult relationship with my Grandma is different from having a relationship as a kid. I wish my Grandpa hadn’t smoked so he could be here too, and I could have an adult relationship with both my Grandparents. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Pantoum – ” Closed for Hope.”


You were Hope, the reason my thoughts travelled.

My only use to you,  makes me dislike you.

I’m built to connect, not coldly unravel,

Want how I live, be prepared to give too.

—–

My only use to you, makes me dislike you.

We’ve played the game two-hundred times well,

Want how I live, be prepared to give too.

Problems attempting dates –we’re broken shells. 

—-

We’ve played the game two-hundred times well,

The chances of me saying yes — go away.

Problems attempting dates–we’re broken shells.

What a team we make, shutting problems away.

—–

The chances of me saying yes — go away.

I’m built to connect, not coldly unravel.

What a team we make, shutting problems away.

You were Hope, the reasons my thoughts travelled. 

——

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