#NaPoWriMo Day 13/ Three Line Tales: Poem – Senryu – “Doesn’t Conquer Death” #amwriting #3LineTales #poetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 13 the Prompt is: ” to write a poem in which the words or meaning of a familiar phrase get up-ended. For example, if you chose the phrase “A stitch in time saves nine,” you might reverse that into something like: ‘ a broken thread; I’m late, so many lost.'” Also, I’m combining with Sonya from Only 100 Words’ #3LineTales Prompt.


Credit: Ronaldo Santos Via Unsplash


Romeo scales yellowed bricks,

Hands bleed from his grip;

He pleads, balances on shutters.

*****

Juliet grins glances down,

She notes a height steep;

He clings to her hand squeezes.

*****

A climbing shoe slips, tumbling —

Love doesn’t conquer —

Death; not as corpses hands’ meld.

*****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Music Challenge/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Way Down Below” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Music Challenge #18 by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is “Way Down We Go” by Kaleo and Im combining with Photo Challenge by NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie .


Credit: Charlotte Gonzalos


“Way Down We Go” by Kaleo


Way down we go,

Can’t lift us up oh, oh.

Way down below, beneath the blows,

We’ll hide our woes and find our souls.

But we may sink in mire as we expire,

As way down we go,

Trying to find life’s flow;

So, love me slow or love me not.

Don’t run me down, down with wild blows.

Way down we go,

‘Cause say we, way down we fall, oh, oh.

Way down together,

Far down below and I respire;

Our breath so close, that lips conspire.

To go down further, disperse our woes,

In life we try to avoid what hurts most.

Tell me, do we get what we deserve?

It’s better when I’ve got your back,

When your behind mine, and you hold me close.

Swaying back and forth,

In rhythm, and life,

‘Cause way down we fall,

Way down we go, oh, oh.

Here we go to the journey home,

Though down is such a far way to go —

We’re not afraid.

There’s nothing gloomy,

When your hand’s in mine,

Electric currents wired;

We hold are flow, the energy grows.

Are hearts on fire, we won’t let go;

No matter that, way down we go, oh, oh.

We won’t let our held hands go,

Your grip is tight and your eyes they glow.

Your lips they lift and your pulse beats mad,

Nothing this good could be called so bad.

It’s tough, sometimes when you explode,

When the down it holds,

When I let go and hide;

But new days keep dawning with azure Skies,

No matter that, way down we go —

We rise to conquer towards the surface,

Way down we go, heads held high,

And I promise you’re the one,

I’ll go to the ends of he works for —

So, way down we go, together into forever.

Digging ourselves out of holes,

Patching our broken souls.

Life’s not permanent so while I have you, we go, and go,

Way down so slow, oh, oh.

To grasp each moment, string it out–

To hold such love and not implode.

Way down we go —

No longer running each other down.

Resting in the hollows, the caves, and valleys,

Exploring the roots and tearing out the weeds.

Let’s say we, go way down, to the garden of glee,

And those happy places we render, and feel free —

When life is way down,

We never let go;

Despite falling down, we go, oh, oh.

Never afraid when we go together, rising through it.

Way down we go oh, oh.

But how wonderful it is to be struggling as one,

Down low, or dreaming of sumptuous flight,

Freedom more than we deserve.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

PhotoChallenge/ Sunday Writing Prompt: A Fairy Tale with a Bad Ending: Maleficent #amwriting #fiction #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photochallenge. I’m combining prompts with The Sunday Writing Prompt of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and using the title prompt tale: A Fairytale with a Very Bad End.


Credit: Jeff Simpson


Maleficent stared from her dim dungeon-like castle eyeing King Stefan’s daughter, Aurora, playing in a wide open field.

She whispered to Crow, “They’re supposed to be watching her those three dim-witted fairies. When I was a good fairy, I watched my charges closely. How foolish they are, I could end her life now.”

Crow cawed, “She’s but ten years old and it isn’t her fault Stefan is her father. She doesn’t know what he did to you to become king.”

“Quiet, Crow. I’m thinking.”

“You think a great deal but never do much. Aurora knows what her fate is, those ignorant fairies told her. Now, whenever she can, she escapes to this field to play. She has no care for danger or death. Sometimes she sits and stares into the sky crying.”

“Why should I be merciful to her because she knows she will prick her finger and die in six-years? I owe her nothing. She is a means to an end.”

Crow cocked his head. “She is not responsible for her father’s crimes anymore than your parents were responsible for leaving you alone to rule the Marsh; your parents did not intend to die. Aurora, does not want to die either. Why not raise her yourself and find a way to undo the curse? Simply losing her will hurt Stefan deeply as the queen can’t have more children.”

Maleficent pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot undo such a powerful curse and I will not do Stefan any favours despite Aurora’s innocence. He raped me Crow, I was helpless. He cut off my wings. I will not save the girl.”

“You may change your mind yet. You have watched her for years and have become fond of her. You hate that she’s putting herself in peril now.”

“Fond?”

“Yes, you have this soft smile on your face when you watch Aurora. You never smile that way except with her.”

Maleficent’s voice went cold. “In that case . . . ” she pointed her wand at the blond beauty. Heart beating loudly in her ears, she struck the small girl down. Aurora death was instant and a single tear slipped down the dark fairy’s cheek.

“Now, you see, Crow? I have ended her life. I’m not attached to her and we will bury Aurora’s body in the Marshes. Aurora’s early death will bring Stefan greater pain. He will live his life not knowing what happened to his daughter. His queen will die in grief.”

Tears dropped as diamonds from Crows’ coal-black eyes and wouldn’t stop. “I do not think Stefan is the most evil being in the kingdom. You are the person most full of evil. Just as he lost his heart to become king and hurt you, you have ended the life of an innocent child and are no better.”

“I meant for you to truly act as Aurora’s Godmother — not to kill her. You should’ve been the one to guard and protect her; I thought you loved her.”

“Love is as treacherous as running off alone to a field . . .”

Crow’s caw was forlorn. “Aurora could’ve had a new beginning with us, but I cannot serve a fairy whose heart has become black with revenge, with blood on her hands from an innocent’s death. How far you have fallen, Maleficent.”

“Stefan is not responsible for your evil deeds; you are responsible for your own crimes.”

Crow bowed once and flew away forever. Maleficent was left alone and inside her chest her heart’s ache was perpetual.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#OctPoWriMo Day 15/ Three Line Tales: Poem – Senyru – “Sickly Fog” #3LineTales #poetry #amwriting 


OctPoWriMo Day 15 is a Prompt on fighting the urge to throw up. Also, combining this prompt with #3LineTales from Sonya of Only 100 Words

——

Credit: Kira Aud Der Heide via Unsplash

——

5,7,5

Fighting to write, hands —

Aching, mind floats without food;

Words feel too vital.

—-

Glass corners, eyes tired, 

Hands cut, sharp letters,

Indigo tip sticks. 

——

Head spins, stomach turns, 

Pause — stomach needs sustenance;

Mind clears sickly fog. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weaver: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “What If You” #amwriting #poetry #taleweavers


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s Tale Weaver prompt. The prompt is to come up with a ‘what if scenario and write about it.’

——

Credit: Francis E. McDonald


What if you were on the streets and had no family,

To take you in? What if you were awfully ill?

Had no health care insurance or will —

To live? ‘Cause no one cared, not really.

Disappearance might seem easier,

You think your absence won’t ever be missed.

Better for others, if your life’s dismissed?

Not in the way; without friends, eyes keeping,

Watch on you: We must help those who live ‘What If;’ too —

Many people fall through the cracks,

Cannot afford medication to live,

Or wander streets, hungry, with poor hygiene.

We all must care because the neglected need much,

Are valuable humans, who require our hands.


© Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

 

Day 5 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – A L’Arora – “Steps To Eternity” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


For Day 5, the NaPoWriMo poetry prompt is ” to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often.” The accompanying A to Z Challenge today starts with a GoodRead’s author’s quote, with a name beginning with the letter E.


Forest Pathway NaNo
Credit: http://www.combiboilersleeds.com

“I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.” ― Emma Goldman


*****

Down the path of foliage, between all the trees,

It’s where I find my space, my home sweet home.

There’s something about crisp green leaves,

Wet after the rain, while the dew clings, not letting go.

With road passing through, steps to eternity,

Enthrall me in summer’s breath, the scent of the morning,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Tree branches entwining, limbs gripped with passion,

Used to the presence of parallel lovers.

They’re completely attached, unwilling to let go,

Nymphs holding fast, enraptured with each other,

With the road passing through, steps to eternity, 

Absorbing the thrill of the mid-summer fairy dance.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Some brilliant reckless person crafted this road,

Travelers speeding through trees, guarding the sacred path.

Some pause knowing they’ve discovered sanctuary,

Freedoms breeze, they’ll stop to admire the sentinels guarding.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity,

A place where verdant nature, holds a secret prosperity.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

For hours I’ve wandered through lush trees,

Delicate roses growing, shadowed by dripping leaves.

Overcome am I, by epic beauty, of roses sweetly pink,

Crushing them in my hands, to absorb the memories.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity.

Inhaling the fragrance of aspiring life, in roses soft,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security. 

*****

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Day 4 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – “A Secret Within A Secret” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo is to write a ” poem with a secret – in other words, a poem with a word or idea or line that it isn’t expressing directly. The poem should function as a sort of riddle, but not necessarily a riddle . . .” As well, my GoodRead’s author quote will start with an author’s name beginning with the letter D, for the A to Z Challenge.

———

Credit: Abigail Keenan via UnSplash

——–

“A picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you know.” ― Diane Arbus

———-

On precious plush lips, she rests her hand, 

She’ll never tell you what thoughts she’s had. 

Preferring mostly, to let you wonder, 

To pillage her plunder, 

Yet to never understand who she is. 

The secret so hidden and complex; this —

Illusion she portrays, by and by, everyday. 

You can search through her closets array, 

Of clothes and shoes, or her jewelry gleaming, 

With her nothing is as it seems.

You’ll never find it hidden in kitchen drawers, 

Packed away in the cupboard’s coffee tin or —

When you find out her password to her page, 

Or look in private documents, bills or her wages.

It’s not in some box in the garage, 

And begging her won’t assuage —

What you can never seem to pin point, 

What you can never find in her poise —

The grace of her movements, her brilliant blue —

Eyes, searching yours, praying that you’ve a clue.

She’ll let you touch her how you like, 

She knows your confusion without spite. 

She’s hoping you’ll find it, but will you ever know? 

The truth it lies within her soul, 

And when you know — you’ll know. 

——-

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.


Collage Prompt: How Edges Are Smoothed #amwriting #poetry #LaCharta


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt. 

——

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——-

Obscured by flowers she slumbers;

In restless sleep, dreams and wonders. 

Of every place she could be stumbling. 

She’s on a bus; she’s left and coming. 

Engaging, discovering the world, 

Hands in the air, gives happy twirl. 

—–

She knows she’s one of those shattered

Those broken people, hearts scattered. 

All she lost hurts her, still matters, 

She’s travelling, her soul battered

Wherever she feels she goes free —

Never having felt mindless glee. 

—–

In parks she discovers nature’s gifts, 

Rain falling down in healing bliss. 

Frost on the pine trees, light snow drifts;

Fall’s leaves hanging with an ice kiss.

Dew drops on the pine needles caught, 

Icicled and splendid shots. 

—-

Shuttering Nikon bright photos, 

Numerous, exquisite, with notes —

Written neatly underneath rows. 

Photos printed, memories wrote. 

Publishes first book from afar, 

Remains here; she’s seen lucent stars. 

—-

Gleaming, brilliant lights overhead, 

New home to heal, words yet unsaid. 

Forgets past, hangs laundry instead, 

Milk in jug for children, she’s wed; 

Life remoulded into her dreams, 

Someone loves her, he teases. 

——

They laugh with each other love spun; 

Knows her well but she’s cut him some. 

Yet he heals, heals her too; he proves —

Love is the balm, steady, true. 

Whenever her edges spike through, 

Holds her tight until she’s smooth, soothed. 

—–
LaCharta

“The LaCharta, created by Laura Lamarca, consists of a minimum of 3 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. Each stanza contains 6 lines. The syllable count is 8 per line in iambic tetrameter and the rhyme scheme is aaaabb ccccdd eeeeff and so on. “La” is Laura Lamarca’s signature and “Charta” in Latin, simply means “poem”.”

Please see Shadow Poetry for further information.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

——

Credit: Adventures In The Wild

——

Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “A Nightmare of Ink” #amwriting #poetry #nightmares


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the his week’s Photo Prompt chalkenge.

——-

Credit: Reylia.deviantart.com

——-

She holds the flowers teaming with a life force all their own, 

Knowing the ombré blue blossoms will escape; 

Flutter into the world carried on the wind, 

Pettles and fluffy white seeds blown across the land. 

Messengers of hope and artistry, a beauty undefinable. 

Her hands tightly grasp the stems, no thorns to prick errant fingers. 

She can’t let go, however, she she tries, 

Hands entrapped on rough stems holding too hard. 

So rigid are her hands, blood comes forth, 

The pressure of her grip too intense;

With great thought, he watches her, observes her reactions, 

She doesn’t understand why he’s hurting her; she needs help. 
She’s dressed in her navy dress and in life he loves it, 

In her dream, he picks at the fabric of her sleeve in disgust. 

Mumbling to himself, then struck with a thought, 

He’s found a thin fluted vase in blue to match her flowers. 

She doesn’t conprehend the symbolism or the reason, 

When ink he pours onto her flowers from the vase. 

He stains her hands until they appear black, 

The flowers are ruined and slicked with ink like oil. 

The streaming ink is everywhere, 

Her beloved smiles at her, he chucks her chin and winks, 

Takes the flowers and places them in the vase. 

The ink is all over her hands and arms;

Hers and his, and he’s laughing. 

Saying how difficult ink is to remove from one’s skin, 

So he cradles her face and he kisses her long, 

But then she awakes in her dream, 

To permenant ink stains all over her face and hands.

He smirks at her, walks away no care for the ink staining him. 

The moon gleams in the sky and it rains — buckets of tar black ink, 

Caressing her body, covering as sludge, dripping and spilling. 

What value is ink if she has no pen’s cartridge to put it in? 

She’s not able to use it to write. 

The world around is flooded by this precious commodity, 

And when she finally awakes for real, all is forgotten. 

Yet, the hands she holds up to the sunlight, 

Are stained dark black;

She’s tattood in the memory of a dream, 

Nightmares and reality never giving way to truth. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.