Photo (Collage) Challenge: Poem – Tankas – “The Mountain’s Wrath” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s double prompt:

Laura Bloomsbury

———

Black and white can change, 

Become the most flaming bright of —

Colours; yet we’re like —

Dorothy on her Kansas —

Farm, not realizing life is grey. 

Never seeing technicolor.

——–

If mountains are but smoke, 

No one who said those words knew, 

How burning orange and —

Yellow looks when your skin is —

Seared; the mountain spit lava clear.

Blew her top, melted downwards. 

——-

On to the town who, 

Had little idea but should —

Have known this day, 

No technology clued.

Their mountain could release Hell,

Sulphurous smelling, burnt Hell.

—-

Poisonous gases, 

Leaking down to the town folk, 

No chance had they when, 

Ashes fell like snow.

The worst kind of snow signals, 

The ire of the mountain’s breath.

——-

In stores, on boardwalks, 

Going about their day the same.

When she erupted, 

No one cared at first.

But the ash and gases came, 

Killing to begin, before —

—–

Lava reached familiar,

Buildings, the library.

Homes, grocery stores, work.

Yet the sky was filled, 

She billowed out her smoke rings, 

And she was just beginning.

——-

Threy should’ve known to —

Leave earlier but no one, 

Takes responsibility;

To late to lay blame.

Run far and fast, lava spews.

Keep going magma flows, kills.

——

No Dante’s Peak is —

This; only mother nature’s, 

Roaring and giving, 

Life as she takes it.

Many die unaware, don’t see, 

Never knew today would be —

The end: waiting done, 

Here comes the promised one near.

Yet some survived it.

Never took lightly, 

Those words: A Mountain is noth –

ing but smoke — they lived through it.

—–

Those who rebuilt knew, 

As the lava and fire burnt their —

Homes, loved ones to crisps. 

Beware the mountain;

Geologists trained don’t know, 

When she’ll yield furious wrath.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reseved 

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner:  Wing Walker on the Stairway to Heaven.


 Fighter airplanes were used by the allies in their efforts against Hitler and the triple axis. 

When the plans arrived home and were repaired, wing walkers such as Genia performed acrobatics on the wings of the fighter planes. 

The boys who flew them were a gas. Genia had great times with them at the nearest dance hall. That’s where she met Andy. 

Andy was handsome and he cracked Genia up. He was an ace pilot who hadn’t returned from his last mission months ago. Genia knew he’d been dropped.

She was light on her feet and Genia lived for adrenaline, performing for the airforce and providing entertainment to keep people’s mind off of the war.

A pilot who liked Genia, Chester, had taken her up that day as the crowds clapped and shouted from below. 

Genia worked on her new routine, knowing she was attached to the plans wing if she fell. She heard something snap and the snapping caught her off balance. 

Chester watched in horror as Genia fell from the sky, an acrobatic beauty on the stairway to heaven. 

Genia felt “she’d been waiting years for this day,” to be with Andy at last.

——-

http://www.pixebay.com

—–

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.  Also, thank you to The Daily Prompt for the word prompt stairway.

—–

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Day 2 – NaPoWriMo – Catching Stars


I look above me from the fresh cut grass

And I feel the blackness engulfing me

Oh, but for the light of diamond stars

I reach up high, I cannot touch them

For they are billions of miles away

But maybe I feel I might just graze them with my finger tips

These stars they burn my hands, these giant balls of gas

Burning clear through my memory to that night

When you sat beside me and we were relaxed

You had a sleeping bag spread, just in case

But the grass called to me and you held my hand

The stars torches to the gods of kingdoms past

And we small humans looking up at them

Reflected in our eyes we see what the ancients saw

Something older and wiser then any of us

Queens of the sky majestic in your ball of light

So close, but yet so far

And you held my hand, I was warm and sleepy

The stars in your eyes burning softly