#NaPoWriMo Day 12/Poet’s Pub: Poem – Haibun – “The Battle” #dVerse #poetry #amwriting


For NaPoWriMo Day 12, the Prompt is: to “write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. I have to my surprise, never written in this form, so here’s a definition from Haibun– Poets.org:


“Haibun is a poetic form that allows one to answer some of these questions while providing a fresh perspective through a lens that focuses on nature and landscape. Haibun combines a prose poem with a haiku. The haiku usually ends the poem as a sort of whispery and insightful postscript to the prose of the beginning of the poem. Another way of looking at the form is thinking of haibun as . . . a prose poem ending with a meaningful murmur of sorts: a haiku.”


Also, I’m combining with Paul Scribble’s #dVerse Poet’s Pub, poetic prompt on a quote about poetic arts. The two prompts fit together well.


To write about poetry is to believe that there are answers to some of the questions poets ask of their art, or at least that there are reasons for writing it, writes Michael Weigers, editor of the anthology This Art: Poems about Poetry (Copper Canyon Press, 2003).


Credit: FreeStocks.org via Unsplash


Past the ravine, the North Saskatchewan flows; ice on her surface where Spring’s murmuring waters compose. The snow floats, sheets of ice crack, confused, the rivers pull bursts through. Amidst howling winds and bitter nights of chill, Spring waltzes in with lilacs. But old-man winter berates with frost, slippery roads, broken sidewalks. Spring blossoms and explodes, to weave the buds that summon bees. Springs drugged words ignored, no lush greenery bursts. Leaves rot, the ice, the snow, the muck, the refuse mushed, derelict without Spring’s blossoms. She hums her tune, an heals Winter’s hacking cough; she pleads her assurance of poppy fields. The old-man shakes his fist with cantankerous growl — another ‘last’ snowstorm grits. The poet composes in metaphorical bliss, avoiding morn’s beams. The question of, “Why?” No matter. The question of, “How can I not?” Words that enthral.

*****

Sleep in poppy’s opium kiss,

Revel in sunlight’s verdant bliss;

Spring’s song; poet’s light.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Beyond Words or Woofs #amwriting #flashfiction #dogs #homelessness


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—-

Credit: Fandango


The trails meander through the river valley park where the city erected unique benches made from verdant trees felled to create park pathways. At night Paul and his four dogs inhabit a particular bench. They rest their tired legs and pant joyfully, cooling off from the hot humid summer days, during the night.

However, in the winter the dogs huddle against Paul, absorbing each other’s heat. Paul doesn’t have much in his tattered backpack. Only a oversized bottle of water, a bag of dog food, a couple of protein bars, and thin blankets for the dogs. But one night the ice creeps up frosting Paul’s beard. It’s -45 degrees Celsius outside and the homeless shelters are full.

Despite layers of clothing Paul trembles and his teeth chatter; he can’t sleep in this miserable blizzard. He’s terrified the dogs will freeze to death — they’re his family and all he values in the world. He covers them, wrapping them in blankets before spreading the sleeping bag across them all. Their fur is frosted over and he keeps rubbing them with his gloved hands to keep their bodies from stiffening.

Suddenly, a light shines, blinding Paul in the treacherous cold, then his body heats as if he were sitting out on a beach in Mexico on the perfect hot day. The dogs peer up at him from the white sand, wagging their tails. Paul and his dogs have moved on and exist in a place beyond words or woofs. They’ve left cruelty behind.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Soccer for 3-Year-Olds #amwriting #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 words for hosting #3LimeTales

———

Credit: Christian Widell via UnSplash

——

The gitter of the morning sun touches the dew, the liquid grass blades absorb it, deprived of water, sucking it back like tequila shots. The little ones arrive, talking loudly and shrieking; there are tears, there are runny noses, and there are giggles of happiness. The three-year-olds line up and parents help them do their tasks; Practicing kicking the ball into the net, running here and there, being the goalie, and following each other closely, a pack of pigeons squawking; all is well until Jordy pushes Chris and the toddlers aren’t afraid, piling on top of each other with delighted screams. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blank Verse – “The Nymphs’ Allure” #amwriting #poetry #mythology 


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

—–

Credit: http://www.jwwaterhouse.com

——

Come in, come play, the water’s warm and fine,

We’re all having fun, clothing  unnecessary.

Any nymph knows her body is pleasing.

But little we find young men who wander,

To visit us a while — let yourself rest.

Let your body be beguiled by us.

We’re girls full of laughter; blossoms —

To eat which are tasty and keep you near,

From leaving too soon; it’s a party here,

A never ending happy hour, wine flows —

From Dynosios cup; so drink up, sit back.

Time stands still and you’re forever a youth;

Caught in this moment, we’ll all feel —

Forever blissed; stay amongst us spirits,

Of the earth, of trees, grass, wood, and water.

We care for the forest, lush paths followed,

Hideaways, treasures, meant to last.

Gift of the gods, for us having beauty,

Like yours; but we offer you — explore.

Spend your eternity here, we see so few,

Such attractive men, so stay find pleasure,

Aid us keeping the world alive and safe.

For future generations, for our —

Children, and plenty of youthful men.

Your life could be dreamlike, could be blissful.

Come in, come play, the water’s warm and fine.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Saturday Mix: A Pug Life #amwriting #flashfiction #pugs 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. We have a cute tale to tell this week, life from a pug’s view. You can see the little guy/gal below:

——

Credit: Lorraine 2017
Credit: Lorraine 2017 – MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
——

“So you’re home. It’s about time, I had to go outside and use the grass but you took your sweet time coming home today. You shouldn’t do that — I hate going on the rug because you label me a ‘bad dog.’ But I’d like to see you hold it from 8:30 am until 6:00 pm at night. 

Oh by the way, I ate kibble for breakfast and supper and you were stingy on the foods scraps. I live for table scraps. Well that and going to the offleash park but I’m feeling suspicious. Last Saturday you promised the off leash park and instead I ended up at the V-E-T. I know what that means now! 

The V-E-T is a nasty guy, he cut my nails, a couple so short they bled. And those ‘shots,’what did I ever do to you but love you? You deserved it when I ignored you the next two days.” 

“Here Carla, treat Carla. Sit pretty!”

“Oh yes, you said treat! I want it now. I’ll beg, sit pretty, act all lovey, whatever you want!!!” 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: Lying In The Grass #amwriting #nonfiction #flashfiction #fiction #philosophy 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

—–

Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

——-

I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’

It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: Field of Broken Dreams #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

——

Credit: Liz Young

—–

I was out to meet my friend who lived nearby when I found this ravaged mannequin head. Her exquisite hazel eyes and pencilled brows, lifted towards the sky as if mannequin heaven was there. 

In reality her mutilated head lies in the tall grass. A used beer bottle leans against her face, an empty red cigarette package nearby. 

If she was alive I think she’d be wondering how she ended up here? Why she wasn’t the modelesque mannequin in the window display for Holt Renfrew or at least for H&M. Who had tossed her out like refuse and left her to this fate? 

Count: 91 words

——

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By Green Day

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weavers: Poem – Licentia – “Some Magical World” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Last week’s Tale Weavers prompt was for us to write about a magical place. Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. 

—–

Credit: Adventures In The Wild

——

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy.

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found? 

Place my mind travels inspired profound.

Place I drift when life hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

A magical place where the grass stands high,

Lush ’round my legs, where Gerber daisies spy. 

A hiding place where I often prefer,

Don’t search for me in my valley secure. 

I’m riding raindrops, kissing the sun,

I’ve never had so much freedom or fun. 

Gentlemen here, always decent and sweet, 

A wink in their eye, naughty whispers keep.

They’ll treat a girl well, hold tight if she weeps, 

And if you would like, they’ll love you to sleep. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

Tipping towards the sun, technicolor,

Bright, inspiring, blue of sky discover.
Gerber daisies everywhere with roses, 

Brilliant vivacity, colors exposed. 

Pixies trailing their dust eternally, 

Wings of lace light night, give hope certainly. 

Everything’s first bloom, so never spurn, 

This place humbles beautiful; with tears yearn

No contacts, surgery needed to peer, 

With clarity of soul, all vision clears. 

Place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——-

A hole in the ground or Wonderland? 

Pixie dust sparkling in my hair, Neverland? 
Here is my land, I’m caregiver among —

Faeries with animals exotic, young. 
In their best-years forever, conversing —

Plainly; furry adore cuddles, nothing terse. 

A tiger cub sits by me so befuddled, 

When wolf pup becomes part of our den.

When I cheer because each word I’ve written —

Makes sense; stories flow unrestricted

 A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling 

——

Is this my own magic kingdom I’ve found?

Place my mind travels inspired profound.
A comfortable place where I sit typing, 

Art studio where brush strokes have foresight.

Friends visit often, chocolate’s water

No weight gained, eight squares a day should be sought. 

Parties like Gatsby’s with flapper clothing, 

Each night unique theme, we don’t bemoan. 

As if we’re happy drunk with extra spunk,

Able to keep life in moderation’s trunk. 

A place I drift when life it hurts, inspiring —

Ethereal dreamscapes adventures beguiling.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

One-Hundred-Word Wednesday: Winter Comes #amwriting #nonfiction #100wordwednesdays 


Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting One- Hundred – Word Wednesday. 

——

Credit: Bikurgirl

———

The frost on the grass is a warning; it heralds winter’s time. It’s sunny and bright walking outside in the late morning, yet I can feel the bitter chill of the snow storm approaching, numbing my skin 

There’s a distinct bitterness in the air and it tastes like freshly fallen snow that doesn’t melt, but freezes your tongue. It’s a nip of coldness which makes you shiver long after you’re snuggled by the warmth of the fire indoors. 

 I know by night, the great pines and paved trail will be frozen and covered in cotton mounds. The frost will becomes a blanket of white remaining until spring seeps into the frozen north. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weavers: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “On Resolutions” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerieor hosting last week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt on a story of keeping/making resolutions in the New Year.

Credit: Abstract Art – http://www.pinterest.com

—-
It’s difficult, keeping going in —

The face of rejection given. 

I’ve learnt be fortified; than —

My cave won’t fall in strengthened

I’ve succeeded at some tries, failed at many others,found, 

Resolution; one must, keep pushing all boundaries.  

—–

So, what do we resolve, anything new

We continually have goals in view. 

Hoping we’ll achieve something great. 

Or make it through each day, not wait —

Wondering if the grass is greener, if inspiration

Can take flight, provide meaning, when we require.

—–

Do we lose weight, eat less sugar? 

Walk more, live our lives with vigor? 

Do we spend time with loved ones, 

Knowing we’re here, short while for some. 

Do we travel somewhere far away or give home —

To pets from the shelter? Strangers who are unknown
—–

We can resolve, try much harder, 

Do better, be specific, guard —

Ourselves, take baby steps to —

Goals we want achieved through, 

A change in habit, will it happen or will we —

As every year, change only when life forces free —

—–

What we truly need to change and be, 

Beyond ourselves, have self-belief, 

We will actually take a step, glean —

Some knowledge from the year, lean

Far from our own circles to celestial dreamscapes

It’s difficult to be grounded; worse to not create

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.