Saturday Mix: Poem – Blank Verse – “Addiction Nightmares” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Saturday Mix Prompt. The prompt is to write a Homeric or Epic Simile. 

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Credit: Angel Jimenez via UnSplash

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He lived his life did, what he could, but could —

Not find a way to escape the demons. 

He could not escape his addiction; the —

Monster sunk his teeth into him when his, 

Guard was down; he would feel wonderful, 

Healthy, good, then he felt it’s teeth gnawing. 

The biting, the teeth claiming his flesh, would make, 

His skin itch until he wanted to tear it, 

Off; running for the bathroom where he hid, 

His medication, the pills he so craved. 

Wanted to quit; to never take again, 

But the monster clawing down his back would, 

Never stop; not until he claimed him for–

His own; made him demon too, who hits her, 

His girl; who loves him, though hallucinates, 

Of the Hell monster,  he lives in terror of, 

He wakes from Hell to find his family, 

Has deserted him; he’s alone breathing; 

Trying to forget the demon who would start, 

Eating him alive soon, making his temper —

Rise and his fists fly as he imbibes too, 

Craving the second monster who is the, 

Only way to handle the greater, 

The worst monster, the devil hiding. 

Evil itself repeatedly gnawing, 

Trapping him in Hades, stripping his —

Soul; so he feels that he does not exist;

For anyone, but to grind and lash out. 

To battle the demon, his addiction, 

And no one can help him, they’ve given 

Up all hope; so one day he thought he would, 

Give in let the monster finish him. 

Bind and seal the deal, his soul in hell for, 

All eternity and he was going, 

To jump when he saw —  a light, awoke; 

In the room of the addictions unit. 

At the hospital and the nurse tells him, 

“It’s okay it’s been a month and you’re —

Dreaming again; it’s a wicked —

Nightmare and not your reality now.

Keep clean and the monster, he’ll leave soon, 

Then, you’ll be free as you’re here and —

Remain aware; when you leave stay far from, 

Put those drugs, the alcohol behind. 

And soon you must embrace your new life, 

Make your apologies and live.” 

The man sighs almost crying, so —

Happy the demons are distant dreams. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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 Day 24 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Art of a Story and Death” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday flashfiction prompt. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art.” The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Prompt begins with the letter U. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl – Her Photograph and work of art for the prompt 🙂

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To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarates, the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, however, retreats from life by turning in into slumber. The other arts make no such retreat— some because they use visible and hence vital formulas, others because they live from human life itself. 

― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet”

(Sorry finding a Q name for this piece impossible but there is Q in Disquiet!)

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The photograph is lovely at first, 

A brilliant blue sky, soft winds of cool breezes, 

The Atlantic still icy, but forgiving. 

Trees rise and guard the home, the lighthouse, 

Ancient ones in slumber as spring yet approaches. 

Rock walls prevent a fall below, to the unforgiving chill. 

Hypothermia comes quickly here, 

But the scenery makes up for the inherent danger. 

Bright pink of the house stands out and the tower above matches, 

Glows in the night when the boats pass by, 

Protecting and guiding ships. 

The long grass still waiting to be verdent, 

Not dry crumpled straw. 

And the owners of the house are silent, keeping to themselves, 

Their only sense of existing, is the light that glares, when outside the tower is dark. 

Spring is slowly birthing, but the ocean’s still freezing, 

And the danger is too real for ships too close.  

And a stranger walking watches from the dim, 

Holding back a dog barking in madness. 

The bulb has burnt out, now disaster is unhinged, 

The ship clips the cliff, the house crumbles and the ship sinks, 

Screams in the night, in the Atlantic’ waters cold numbness. 

And when all is said and done, only the lighthouse stands, 

With a burnt out bulb of fault. 

How can this photograph be a work of art? 

Is there art in dying? 

Or is art and death as a perception, to ambigious to be real? 

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©Mandibelle16. 2017) 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

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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

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

November Notes: Poem – Day 11 – LaJemme – “No More Demons” #amwriting #poetry #novembernotes #music


Today’s prompt song is “Paradise Circus” by Massive Attack. 

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Paradise Circus” – Massive Attack 
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http://www.designsnext.com

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You feel the stone beneath your back, it’s hard. 

Fall apart, lie ontop of it, and groan

Felt in your deep bones, the cold wind it mares

The tension starts drifting in and out, moans

Unfortunate we’re far apart

Our minds impart, shattered haste.

Playing games wait, we sin for heart

Love in us cannot sate

While time flies by, you wonder berate

Have some patience, rumours arise

Do not despise, our love it waits

Us to but lose; we’ll surprise

Lazily we move, we’ll time again prove

Block demon’s soft soothe, a lie of our groove

 No demon guards love; God, love, he approves. 

The kind that’s grown, realized with heart.  

Love that is smart, patient, kind, never departs.

Where your whole heart is honest, though hard. 

Dreams alight us both; we’re a work of art

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The LaJemme is a 5 stanza form created by poets Laura Lamarca and Jem Farmer. Meter: consistently iambic

1. Stanza 1, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.

2. Stanza 2, syllable count: 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme cdef, with cross rhymes in each couplet on 4th syllable

3. Stanza 3, syllable count 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme gfdf, 4th syllable of each line follows the same rule as stanza 1.

4. Stanza 4, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme hihi, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.
5. Stanza 5, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.
Please see Shadow Poetry for more information. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Dogs Life #amwriting, #flashfiction #dogs


Thank you to the beautiful and kind Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Yinglan

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It might appear to you in this picture, Mom has fenced us in the backyard and left us alone. We love escaping to the yard to play and run circles, but truly, Bugsie and I, we’re inside dogs.

Mom needs us close to her where we can snuggle and give her kisses when she least expects them. She wants us inside to give us the last two bites of whatever she is eating. 

She also needs Bugsie and I to guard the doors and look out the windows. Sometimes, the front door opens and it’s Dad coming home from work and he’s so much fun; Dad wrestles with us and takes us on runs in the morning.

Mom and Dad take both Bugsie and I to the dog park. We went down the off leash trail, running freely back and forth, sniffing, and sometimes checking on Mom and Dad. Where the dog park trail ends is a fence, and that’s where this picture is taken. 

And at the end of the trail, I’m happy to go home. Bugsie and I lay beside each other and nap. It’s heavenly. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Wrapped Refrain –  “Relationships and Childhood” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt words Childhood, Sky, Purpose, and Angry.

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What made us now, this moment past

How’d we become so frail, like glass.

Feelings torn, mended, stitches —

Reopened, wounds our glitches.

Remembering yet, we’re sky high humans so lost.

Can we find, the purpose of us charred, at what cost?

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What is it to have faith, to believe?

Words your lips intone I perceive? 

See we only through the looking —

Glass; are reflections picture books, 

Children read us, seeing clearer, we’re angry and —

Getting madder; if only sky cleared, clouds not sad .

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Our faces to the little ones, 

Need appear smiling, not loathsome.

Bring back laughter, joy, and pleasure.

Find every day peace, time treasured.

So their childhood vision is happiness and light.

Through our faces, read clear, inner peace, delight.

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If in each other we peer past, 

The anger each possess and fast, 

Find paths through shadows dark and grim, 

Maybe, then we search beyond sin.

See the rain drop on cool skin, sliding, patterns desire.

Eyes are opened wide; blast of furnace, passion fires.

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Our own mystery of life we guard, 

Though life throw many dangers hard.

We prevail, faith our purpose and —

Each other’s love; though time stand —

Not still for anyone of us on earth, who’s living, 

What made us now, taught us in childhood to forgive.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – The Grey Lady 


One day I went walking, my bestfriend and I. We went down the trails where the Autumn forest lies.

My friend the ‘Grey Lady,’ a husky with silver fur, crashed through debris and drank from the river, thirsty and content. 

I walked on the pathway, while the Grey Lady sniffed and crossed to a tree. Four one-eyed monsters stared back; terror froze me. 

The leader was a one- eyed red blob. He tried to talk but a space language burst from his tongue; his friend, a female, with a thickly lashed eye, starred melovently at the Grey Lady. 

Grey howled,  barked, and jumped on our colourful foes; to them she was as alien as they were to me. To them she was danger. So to us, were they.

The blue and yellow aliens were deep in discussion, then tried to attack me with futuristic guns; but the Grey Lady kept guard; a deep growl pierced the silence. 

And it’s a good thing Grey was fierce. Such innocent monsters they appeared, like a child’s toy. But despite their looks, they wanted to cause me harm.

They were super flexible,used mind tricks, and tried to steal me away; but the Grey  Lady wouldn’t budge. Of her they were afraid. 

Grey growled, bared her teeth, with stealth attacked those ruthless monsters. She could sense the danger in their comical appearance. For she was bred  from wolves and I was her pack. These colourful creatures were her treat, her tasty snack. 

  
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting!