#OctPoWriMo Day 29/Three Line Tales: Poem — Lunes – “Cascading HeartBeats”#amwritingpoetry #3LineTales

For OctPoWriMo Day 29 the prompt is the meaning of numbers. Also, combining with Sonya of Only 100 Words #3LineTales. I’ve a actually 6 lunes, but, oh well.

Credit: Lichun Kirb via Unsplash

Strumming notes; beats pulsing inside,

Guitar picks busted.

Fingers burn, keening rhythmic tunes.


My instrument sings electronic meaning,

Strums touch inside;

Travellers dreaming, tapping toes, humming.


I awaken, each morning crooning;

Records propped behind,

Writing mine; melodious notes capturing.


I’ve got soul, I’ve crescendoing —

Harmony, musical concertos;

Promenading strangers, remember my anthem.


Sweet words of dew glisten,

Off velvet tongue;

Butter melting, heartbeats propelled, lingering.


Life lyrics, haunting, melding euphoria;

Hope sung, understanding —

Echoes; anthem compels cascading heartbeats.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.


NaPoWriMo: Poem – French Translation – ” La Vie” 

And now our prompt (still optional!) Because we’ve spent our month looking at poets in English translation, today I’d like you to try your hand at a translation of your own. If you know a foreign language, you could take a crack at translating a poem by a poet writing in that language. If you don’t know a foreign language, or are up for a different kind of challenge, you could try a homophonic translation. Simply find a poem (or other text) in a language you don’t know, and then “translate” it based on the look or sound of the words. Stuck for a poem to translate? Why not try this one by Nobel Laureate Wislawa Szymborska? Or here’s one by another Laureate, Tomas Transtromer. Happy writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information. This is the final day. Thank you all who have followed my poems in this month long journey. Also, I apologize for my awful French language skills. 




When life is a song,

Each day is a harmony.


When life is a dance, 

Each day is a ballet.


When life is a sky,

Each day is a breeze.


When life is a flower,

Each day is a butterfly.


When life is a torrent (fast moving water),

Each day the mountains rise.


(Phew! Glad I picked an easy one!) 

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poetry – ” Rise Up “

When the notes begin to play, hum along and sing the chorus if you may.

The sounds of silence lowly rising as the tide, a gentle splashing growing;

Voices raised in some kind of nameless praise, pick up the pace now begin the melody.

A child’s vocals raised in anthem sweet and dolce as the hum begins its throw;

Begins to rise the chords of voices heavenly, putting out the call to one another.

Alto, Tenor, Bass, then the Soprano’s join in the shockingly beautiful voice of the child.

The piece comes together now, can you feel it rising, it gives me shivers this singing.

The breathing of the talent on a cold, and moonless night, bring sounds to the darkness.

Acapella gently then the bass begins to tremble and delighted sound takes on the wind and trees and brings us to our knees;

Put out the call, put out the call, everyone’s going to rise up and the power of the sound simply out of bounds growing as the tears they ripple.

Out of the lonely mans eye and he sings along in tenor softly giving praise to earths majesty to heavens winged Angels.

Put out the call, put out the call, it’s time to take some action.

And sound surrounds in blessed harmony and tears flow like water pouring from the faucet;

Raise the living and the dead with this song we sing – something’s going to rise up, rise up, dead bones are gonna rise up and her themelancholy. 

The voices are fading out, slowly as we breath, tears and sniffles as we sing ever growing quietly.

Something’s going to rise up, rise up, and we go back to dolce and the mournful sound of a child’s voice the last note to be sung.

Something’s going to rise up, rise up you’ve woken it with your song;

Dead are going to rise, the spirit of the voices woke them with your sound.

Go back to sleep, the song is complete, be careful what you raise up today.


Dear Ones and Dark Ones

Dear, you are the center of this dangerous circle.
The compass rests on you, and points to another but who?
Dear, you tried to control your own destiny, as if you had a choice.
But the maker spins the wheel and lands in every slot we ought to go.
Trying to bet at a losing game boy, that’s a sure chance to fail.
Girl, you are his consolation prize, only because he could get what he wants.
But things don’t add up, he only cares about himself.
You are an off shoot a tethered branch on the tree for his convenance.
But does he know that you’re not playing his game anymore.
Does he know you found yourself respect, flow back into you like diamonds retrospect.
The howl, of self-indulgence flowing through the body, freedom from the oddity that’s plagued you.
And snow goes by, blinks light into my eyes, I’m seeing clearly for the first time.
I’m no sad bad song, I am the melody, the creator created carefully.
When I jump off key, he sets me back right, oh how good to flow harmoniously.

You never met me yet, but you stare into my soul, cold selfish eyes.
You want all control, you think it’s funny playing games, playing poker with a pro.
The river is flowing, turning, and churning, my heart is burning for the mistakes I made.
If you developed some morals, some hope for tomorrow, you’d be so much happier.
But your afraid of me, your afraid of what I offer and what I take away.
You’re afraid you might have to care about my feelings.
You’re just waiting for the next one to come along, man child.
I am the breathe of God blowing, he’s set me in place.
I made my mistakes, now I’m flowing, breathing air in outer space.
You’ll never see the laughter, you’ll never see the joy, you’re not a good person
But you could be if you tried in life just a little more.
So you’re heart was broken, so it will mend, but not if you destroy it piece by solid piece.
That beating, that heating of blood, that is the journey of life you feel.
You could be so much more why do you be so little, act so small.

There is hope in the beating of wings, in the crescent of the moon.
When you see in glory, you can see it all.