Poem: Haikus — “Yesterdays End” #amwritingpoetry


Credit: Ihor Malytyski via Unsplash.


Evenings end July’s crackling,

Sparklers glimmer, night comes,

Friends close the evening.

*****

Another summer passes,

Red and white, so glorious;

Freedom, acceptance.

*****

But, you’re gone, tomorrow still;

Before our eyes emptiness,

Solstice without you.

****

A nightmare, a mercy too,

Still, there’s no you,to greet near;

Go on despite — live —

****

As you did, with grandpa’s death;

Later, maybe better words —

Can hark tearful tunes.

*****

For now you’re gone, passed but this —

Is your beginning blooming;

Neither is it our end.

*****


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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#OctPoWriMo Day 14/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “ A Safety Net” #amwritingpoetry #100WordWednesday


For OctPoWriMo Day 14 the Prompt is If I Were Me. Also, combing with Bikurgurl’s #100WordWednesday.


Ask yourself, “If I were me…” what would that look like? Who are you really? Have you lost yourself in being a mother, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, father?


Credit: Toa Heftiba via Unsplash


Ask for the world, typify me,

Take advantage or carve my insides;

Pumpkin gutted.

I’ve chosen to take, the high road, to believe —

To have faith.

Not to see, things not there.

To reveal the truth,

Even though, curiosity may kill me.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t configure the puzzle pieces;

I’m a writer, I love a good mystery.

So, weave me a tale and I’ll unbind it thread by thread;

Only to see it’s trembling core, where light reveals the mayhem.

I wish for sunlight, carved tables with Zinfandel,

A place to write, you next to me;

No suffocation, no squeezing in my chest,

My liberty not at stake.

Complications, deviations, things I never expected;

Truth and disbelief collide as dynamite splashes.

I am the wind, I am the great detective,

No laudanum needed to dull the senses or to dream.

I am the Amazon and I am Alice,

Slipping back into Wonderland.

And I’ve discovered that beneath facades,

Can lie a beast with scales and teeth.

Slithering, slick, slime of rust,

Questionable creature, Adam’s fall —

Eve’s mistrust; and if I can’t have all the details,

Assemble words into some order,

My decisions might break not only I,

But lives lie in the balance.

One who needs, so I must give,

Because my Lord said give all you can;

And even if you’re wrong,

Heaven will be your table in the sunlight,

Where you can write and find tranquility:

The ambience of love.

If I Were Me,

Who knows,

For she is constantly moulded,

Her Creator’s hands her safety net.


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge/Tale Weaver: Poem – Free Verse – “Stairway from Forever Winter” #amwriting #poetry #TaleWeavers #PhotoChallenge #MLMM


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting photo challenge #220. Also, thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Tale Weaver prompt on the them of a voyage of discovery.


Credit: Silvia Grav


Shivering as if I’m shedding,

As if I’ll never know heat;

Or a belly without ache.

Crisp bacon and sausage sizzles,

French toast with cream cheese;

Clouds of whipped cream,

Maple syrup flowing in valleys;

Sweet strawberry jam,

Tart on my tongue,

The crisp-softness of toast;

Homemade bread devoured.

Orange juice with champagne,

Sweetness and fizzing bubbles.

Chatter, hands passing,

Sniggers and giggles;

Raising the bar; the bets are laid —

Who can eat the most pancakes?

There is plenty in this dream,

Richness and generosity abounds —

Reality’s barren and frosted.

No warmth of hugs or arms over shoulders,

Until a burning stillness settles.

The sensation of hovering above,

Until your firefly soul lifts.

The memory of family, breakfast with ice-cream,

Strawberry sauce and flaked croissants;

Of food so boundless that all gnawing hunger’s abolished.

No daydream with clawing pains,

Only serenity, path into a place —

Where loved ones suffer not.

Where there’s no war to justify —

No battle to survive;

Nor land that will not thaw to grow.

Above, there’s glowing prosperity,

A joyfulness that never pales.

No ice-white skin preserved in chill,

No forever winter.

A flame that flickers and overwhelms,

Sparks and heat spread,

As butter melts on fresh bread.

Reflecting on golden streets,

A feast as none knew before.

Temporality extinguished,

The relief of a forever home

Not hunger nor strife.

It’s unimaginable,

But after all the misery —

This stairway’s an easy flight.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 24/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Elegy – “Mona Lisa’s Wish” #amwriting #poetry #photochallenge #MLMM


For NaPoWriMo Day 24 the Prompt is: “to write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it.”

Also, combining with NEKNEERAJ’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.


Credit: WeHeartit.com


“In the 18th century the “elegiac stanza” emerged, though its use has not been exclusive to elegies. It is a quatrain with the rhyme scheme ABAB written in iambic pentameter.” – (Poetryfoundation.org)


Mona Lisa’s smile, hiding ‘neath veiled eyes,

Legs kicked back in fine stilettos she aches;

Another breath consuming smoke, she respires.

In her last moments, she did not awake.

****

Tissue-paper eyes, refusing revival,

Her last tar-filled breathe such relief — she smiled;

As she never had before, without guile,

No enigmatic curve, carved-out deep-lines.

****

Etched on fair-skin, no more mystery lured,

Last wine sipped with tales of yesterdays.

Before, her portrait immortalized her,

Defined her, as one — not her, with mild gaze.

*****

Bruised under-eyes, her laugh-lines were disturbed;

Never allowed to fade into obscureness.

On show — as if she was mere vanity,

She wished for no portrait, but kind words.

****

You wouldn’t get a crook’s relieved destruction,

It set Lisa free; made her drop the gun smoking,

So now, she’s in the graveyard tucked;

A crook ruined her visage, as she had hoped.

****

To not hear whispers, your ‘ooos’ and ‘aaahs’ said.

To be free of the glass, the Louvres had her trapped,

A part of her soul in oil, now too is dead.

She’s gone, coy lady, all in Heaven’s grasp.

****


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Published Poem – Spillwords.com – Free Verse “Don’t Burn Out All the Lights” #amwriting #poetry #spillwords


I am pleased to have another poem published on http://www.spillwords.com. Check them out, they are amazing to collaborate with. Here’s the poem: “Don’t Burn Out All the Lights.”


Credit: Spillwords.com


©️Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved

#November Notes Day 18/Music Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Your Celestial Everglow”#amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge


For November Notes Day 18, the song is “Chariot” by David Lee. I’m combining with another music Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and the song by Coldplay, “Everglow


Credit: Felipe Luiz via Unsplash


“Chariot” by Jacob Lee


“Everglow” Cold Play


Your eyes are diamonds, your smile a dimpled glow,

I miss the days you lay against me,

My breath the rhythm you slept to gently.

Oh these brilliant peepers glittered,

But I used to love them best swept by your lashes.

Others come and go, but you were my diamond,

You were dear and extra-special.

And you’re long gone in death’s horseless chariot,

Life’s waters don’t flow easy, you know.

Yet, our tangled fingers still feel real,

Your hands around me rooted into my soul.

Your beaming eyes remind me you’re gone,

Past time into the wondrous celestial.

Oh, my diamond, my rock — I miss you so much,

I’m broken and cold; I should, but I can’t let you go.

Until you met death’s chariot,

And stopped — though he would’ve halted for you.*

Your fingers were mine, intertwined,

Eyes a mysterious hue.

So many words and emotions left unspoken.

Your insightfulness, your light —

Was the warmest of brights.

But you broke my heart wide open,

When death stopped for you;

His chariot door flew open and you entered happily.

No matter the cold inside my bones,

I’ll not forget you, my diamond,

I should, but I can’t let you go.

I miss the days you lay against me,

My breath the rhythm you slept to gently,

Oh those brilliant peepers glittered.

And in the darkest of moments I still seek your light,

When the shadow overwhelms — your Everglow shines,

A feeling within me unchanging.

Your chariot passed, tippet and tule unneeded.*

And your presence is gone, leaving me forlorn,

But in the darkest of moments — your Everglow shines,

When the shadow surrounds me, I still seek your light.

The eternal feeling within me — your Everglow abiding,

Your celestial within me — your Everglow resounding.

*****

* Allusions to Emily Dickinson’s “I Could Not Stop for Death” are also made within the above poem.


©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Bop – “For A Spark” #poetry #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Paul Scribbles of Poet’s Pub for hosting the #dVerse prompt on “the end.” 

———

Credit: Roksolana Zasiadko via Unsplash

——–

The end is never the end. It’s always the the beginning of something.” ― Kate Lord Brown, The Perfume Garden

——-

There once was a beginning, but for us, I think;

We never were, until we were, created in a blink.

Once upon a time there was the Word, 

The Word was God; It was with Him to be heard. 

All was darkness but the Word was the light 

The Word was the cure, it was omniscient insight.

Every spark becomes darkness, but His fire brings dawn. 

In the first beginning, his light lit uncountable sparks, 

That eternal, all-knowing ‘start’ burning through the dark. 

Where beginnings take place; journeys are revealed, 

Where life is born, ideas form, the masked are unconcealed. 

Beginings that inspire and conspire to grow and leap,  

Sparks choosing to expire, or to burn on in the deep.

There is the ‘lighter’ of the spark and the ‘spark’ itself;

Knowledge too that sparks turned cinders, have eternal help. 

Every spark become darkness, but His spark brings dawn. 

Who knows of endings but that they’re already won, 

The ‘Candle-snuffer’ futile fights, his end already come.  

He decided his ending forever, when our spark was new, 

He’s the one temptation slithered, damnation to all construed. 

The eternal light is present, no cinders who ask will end up ash, 

Faith is fuel that forever burns, so the term ‘end’ has passed.   

Every spark becomes darkness, but His spark brings dawns. 

 ——–

©Mandibelle16 (2017) All Rights Reserved. 


Friday Music/ Sunday Photo Fiction: Ship to the Stairway #flashfiction #musicchallenge 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s music challenge, “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin 

——-

Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

——–

“Stairway to Heaven” – Led Zeppelin 

——–

“This will get us there, you’re sure?” Avery asked the Captain. Her hands shook and sweat beaded on her forehead. 

” Yes Madam, as I’ve told the other passengers, who are equally as persistent, this will take us to the first step.” 

“The Stairway to Heaven? I can’t believe it. It’s for real, isn’t it?” 

“Well, Madam Avery, that’s what you paid all your money for. This is the only ship that can take you there. We’ll arrive shortly. Ask a flight attendant to give you some pills to calm you down. Soon, you’ll never need medicine again.” 

“But, what’s at the top of the Stairway? Streets filled with glittering gold? No more crying and no more pain?” 

“When we’re there you’ll know. Have faith, Madam.” 

Avery looking pale and feeling dehydrated suddenly fainted. The whole idea of reaching Heaven by space ship seemed unimaginable. 

When she woke up she was lying on a soft bed. There was a gate formed of pure gold and silver. Two regal guards stood nearby. 

“You there, both of you, where is this? I was supposed to be in Heaven I paid a great deal of money to get there, ” Avery said. 

The guards chuckled, “Madam Avery, don’t you know the Stairway and Heaven itself cannot be bought by humans.” 

“But what am I doing here?” 

“Quiet now. You’re in processing, they’re trying to decide about you,” one guard said. 

“Decide what?” 

“If somewhere deep inside you know Heaven was purchased for you long ago. If you know who bought it,” the second guard replied. 

Avery stomped her foot, “I deserve what’s coming to me.” 

The first guard shook his heads,” Wherever you end up, Madam Avery, you can be sure of that.” 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – In Memory of Evelyn #amwriting #poetry #elegy


Credit: Amanda Eifert
——–

A few months ago a dear friend passed away at 98 years old. She was a grandma, my great godmother, and in these last few years, a genuine friend. I miss her very much and writing her letters to mail with a poem or small story. It was our thing and I visited her as much as I was able. The last time I saw Evelyn we visited a few hours in her room. Then,  I was leaving and I couldn’t get out the door to reach the elevators. Finally, I got to the elevators went out the front time and stopped. 

I looked back at the wonderful care facility she’d been staying in these past three years. She was in her own home until she was 95. I had this strange feeling that I woldn’t see her again. I gazed back deciding all I could do was hope that in a month or two, she would still be alive and well. I do wish one more visit might have been possible. 

She was a wonderful, outgoing, and opinionated person. She demonstrated great care with people and her hospitality is/was famous. She even drove big trucks and was a mechanic in her day besides working at the Woodwards Department store for many years. For much her life, she was a single mother. Evelyn had many talents, her cooking, her unpredictability, and a spirit that kept on shining and pushing through life’s miseries. 

R.I.P Evelyn. I’ve been trying to finish this last poem for you for a few months.  It’s taken me awhile to get right! I’m so happy you are with our Heavenly Father and no longer suffering in any way. 

——–

A monument falls, crumbles, 

Although, she was strong. 

An impenetrable force, 

A spit-fire, a trail blazer. 

You can press your hands against thick steel, rock, or concrete, 

Wonder how such monuments are designed, 

Buildings of beauty, fortified through time;

How could they fall? 

Then you realize that soft skin isn’t stone, 

And a woman isn’t a superhero. 

When you gaze into the past, into beloved photographs, 

You see how smooth marble crinkles, 

As fine lines, directions on a map. 

The most elegant calligraphy, 

Words muted in the unforgiving sun. 

And photographs appear in memories, 

The warming light of conversation, 

Over hearth: satisfying food and laughter. 

Yet, still I attempted to see how her puckered lips,

Were once plump, young, and beguiling.

Long gone are her cherubic child’s lips, 

Nearly a century ago. 

And flawless cream skin is marked, 

Lines settled in, can be followed, 

A pattern of an Autumn leaf. 

No monument left to be seen, no eyes sparkling, 

With a smile uniquely hers, 

Never to be repeated;

Only in whispers of genealogy. 

A monument stood and —

She was significant. 

Someone who was seen and not afraid to be, 

A grandma who paraded around, 

 In forty two pairs of shoes — probably more. 

Her body could be strengthened with steel, 

Knees and hips better off with fabrication; 

The real ones worn out. 

Do stone monuments feel the pain of lost children? 

Of polio’s grasp, sucking the life out of a small boy.

Of a little girl who passed away a whisper. 

And of one child who survived, 

A reader, a teacher, a traveller, a builder. 

One who is imperfectly perfect as her.

My godfather with his wife, 

My godmother, both I adore.

Yet, the stubborn cheerfulness, 

Of this monument lives on in her family, 

In her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, 

And beloved relatives and friends;

Partners who marked her life, always leaving early. 

Sisters and brothers, marrying others becoming new brothers and sisters, 

How she adored and missed all them all, 

Passing away before she could blink.

For the most part, she was unsurpassed in years, 

She mourned her family and friends gone first, 

But reunites with them now.

And when she fell, the monument’s pieces scattered, 

Although all feels lost,

She needed her relief in heaven. 

And no one ever thinks that day will come, 

Until it crashes upon those left behind. 

Monuments fall, it happens every minute of every day, 

For every type of personality, 

To each person someday;

Special and authentically themselves. 

It’s okay to morn the monument’s empty place, 

To hunger for her caring advice, 

Her kind words. 

The silence is hard, her not being, 

In her home or in her room.

Now she’s aged, is dust of the earth, 

She is the ideal of herself, the creator’s perfection. 

Her life was imperfect, as we all are, 

It was shadowed by pain and misery; 

Yet her optimism always pulled her through it. 

Remembering her and taking comfort within, 

Her greetings to all those she meets again. 

The suffering and sorrow has ended, so do not cry your tears. 

For every monument is eclipsed, 

Heaven’s radiant light filters into the cracks, 

Rebuilds the rubble. 

Her figure of faith and grace. 

The love she had, that does not die, 

But multiplies in eternity, 

Waiting for her family someday. 

And for her her dear friends. 

 When we arrive, 

She’ll wonder what took us so long. 

Offering a piece of pie, uncooked fresh blueberries in a crust, 

With soft dollops of whipped cream. 

Her timeless love in cooking, baking, hospitality, 

Everyone was always welcome, 

If you weren’t, she’d tell you so. 

True monuments may appear hard and resilient, 

Underneath they are as the rest of us, 

They are frail and human. 

Time will catch up with everyone, 

And we pray we can meet our deaths, 

Mansions prepared in the sky. 

God the only monument, 

 Not our crumbled lives. 

————

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: ‘All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here’ #amwriting #flashfiction #Dante #TheInferno


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——–

Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

——–

“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved: To rear me was the task of Power divine, Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. Before me things create were none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” –  The Divine Comedy, The Inferno (Canto III. Lines 1 -9). 

——-

“Abandon all hope? How can this be right?  I didn’t kill anyone and I was no pervert. I stood for my political office. I did what I had to do,” Ker said. 

“How do you know it was the right cause?” 

“Well, I just do.”

“What about those you hurt along the way? Your wife, Meredith, who now rests in Heaven’s fold? You’re here at the gates of Hell at the river Acheron for a reason,” the wise Charon told Ker. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her, to use her to get where I needed to go. I loved her, but I didn’t mean to leave her. I prayed and I apologized. I admitted my sins to a priest in confession. Yet, here I am in Hell at the Traitors’ Gate, why here?”

Charon sighed and whisked the regretful Ker’s soul into the boat. “I wonder Ker, where Midas will send you? Will you be in the eighth circle as a corrupt politician or the ninth circle for being a traitor to your wife, to your family? Will you spend eternity ‘a Judas?'”

Ker shook his head, “This is nothing but a dream. Dante’s Inferno does not exist. I won’t abandon hope, I won’t. Meredith is not dead and I’m not really here.”

“But you did stop hoping and you’re a traitor so now you face the Traitors’ Gates. You are one of them and that’s why this gate is where you will enter into the ninth circle of Hell.”

“What?! I’m so sorry, I mean it. I repent. I’ll do better and change my ways. Tell me this is just a dream, let me have another chance.”

Charon chuckled and shook his head wearily.”It seems someone up high is fighting for your soul, Ker, I don’t why because your soul is pitch black. Yet, you will have another chance. Remember you won’t get another.”

—–

Ker awakes suddenly whispering pleading prayers in words of Latin and Ancient Greek. He doesn’t know why he understands these prayers to God, but he does. Ker attempts to pick up his smartphone nearby but feels terrible pain whenever he moves. 

Then, his beautiful Meredith walks in the hospital room door. “Meredith? I thought you were dead. That you would never speak to me again. I thought you were in Heaven and I was in Hell, I dreamt it.”

Meredith smiled at Ker with love despite how he had treated her recently: “Who do you think asked God to give you a second chance? I gave up eternity for a later time, hoping you will be there with when I return. Now you must fulfill your promises made in front of Charon.”

“So, can you change, Ker? Can you stop being a traitor and fight for ‘the good’ in this world? Can you fight for me, for us, for our family?” Meredith asked. 

Ker was just grateful to be alive. He swore to do better in life, in love, and he did. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.