#NaPoWriMo Day 20: Free Verse – “Get Away, Get Away” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 20, the prompt is:


“Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life. You might incorporate overheard speech or a turn of phrase you heard once that stood out to you – the idea here is to get away from formally “poetic” speech and into the way language tends to work out loud.”


Based somewhat off William Blake’s, “The Chimney Sweeper: My Mother Died When I Was Very Young . . .


Credit: Google Images


Get away, get away, no scraps to eat,

Get away, get away, vile chimney sweeper.

Squirrel down the fireplace with hacking cough,

Get away, get away, tiny three-year old son.

Get away, get away, clean the soot well,

Treated as vermin, you know not nor why.

Get away, get away — two-hundred years passed.

And many hollows, still haunt chimney sweepers;

The dogs are fed, cats cradled, but somewhere —

The little chimney sweeper’s weep,

Broken spirited, choking on ashes, soot.

And modern toddlers cough, hurt someway else.

Get away, get away, we’ve a thousand things to do,

Get away, get away, nuisances only God sees as deserving.

Perhaps, some grandparent’s of a toddler, yet . . .

We’ve still forgotten. William Blake’s Chimney Sweepers.

Pretence and poison, do we value things, experiences over young life?

‘Get away, Get away,’ words unheeded not remembered,

Think they better, know they not;

None of us are better via religion, ethnicity, nor sense of reason,

If we don’t love the little children.

Get away, get away, let the chimney sweepers breath,

Let fresh air carry giggles, chimes in the wind,

No more work, not ever,

Only golden pathways to freedom.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


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

——–

Credit: Laura Williams

———

Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The End of The Dock” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #mentalhealth


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——-

Credit: Jules Paige

——–

At the end of the dock, will she find —

Her own end? Will she find a kind —

Soul who wants to save a lost one?

There’s nothing new under the sun,

She doesn’t want to reach the dock’s ledge to jump —

Into water, to drown, heart ceasing its thumping. 

——–

No one thinks they could reach this point,

No one sees beyond their own point.

Blind to the sad, anxious hoping,

Someone will throw her a life rope.

If she knew how to swim, maybe she could fight back?

Maybe she could cling to life even when attacked?

—–

She’s no superheroe who’s bent,

On killing her nemesis.

Her demons struggle within hid,

She keeps them sealed under tight lid.

Support her, help her, light the shadow of the lost,

No one knows when she cries, it’s not easy to stop.

—–

Waves inside her — tempestuous

They’re crippling waves, regardless

Beyond her sadness, waking up,

Worse than ignorance unjust.

Your lack of thought, with no empathy — she’s pleading,

You don’t try to learn or listen, she keeps bleeding.

——-

She said,”Not to judge a book by —

It’s pretty cover, how it looks.”

She pleads, “Listen to Atticus,

Walk around in my skin,” pick —

Wisely how you react; she’s scared of descending,

At the end of the dock, desperate to not be.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Index – “Remembring in Cold”


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Finally, our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

For further information please see NaPoWriMo. My source is The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors, 7th Ed.

——

About sufferring they were never wrong,

A little black thing among the snow,

I sit wondering if there is somewhere that is home.

Ah! changed and cold, how changed and very cold!

I’m merely looking for a warm place to sleep,

To dream of Air and Angels, not to experience bitter frost,

I’m An old, mad, blind, despised,and dying King,

Every where around the world I have seen,

—–

In control of my own life, remembering —

  A women’s face with Nature’s own hand painted.

I miss my Queen, Behold her, single in the field.

She’s gone on even when I cried:

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy.

But I jest, I could not stop her death,

Now I sit here in this park praying,

Come down, O Christ, and help me! Reach thy hand,

But this Darkling Thrush is on his own so frozen, he is burning hot,

——-

Seeing her: Drink to me only with thine eyes Faerie Queene, 

Farewell: thou art to dear for my possessing.

My Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,

There is a Folly of Being Comforted by your memories,

I Go and Catch A Falling Star in the bitter night,

Hoping it will warm these decaying bones,

Life went by quickly, so many Good-Morrows,

Those who know me would say:

He never expected much only prayed — A Hollow M[a]n, 

How vainly me themselves amaze.

—–

[I] would drink by myself had I some money,

I have no name I would think, as I Look into my Glass,

In this strange labyrinth [of life] how shall I turn?

Oh Rose, thou art sick, I couldn’t save you,

O Wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being return,

I’ve been trapped in winter so long, I forget, in Pains of Sleep,

Past and Present, blur together and Splendor Falls,

I’m Standing aloof in giant ignorance,

Starlight night, the only warmth, as my breath shows in the cold.

——-

Ten years ago it seemed impossible,

That the world, my loved ones, would forget me,

The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

They say that hope is happiness and you and me will be together soon,

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon,

[I am the] Hollow [man]; Weep with me, all that you read,

You that with allegory’s curious frame, 

Don’t miss me, as in the night I freeze,

Thoughts ventured to her,

Why should I blame her she filled my days,

And so it seems she fills, my heavenly thoughts, at rest.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.