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.

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Credit: Abigail Keenan via UnSplash

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

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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.


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Photo Challenge: Poem – Synchronicity – “The Thief” #amwriting #poetry #fiction


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting. 

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Credit: Anja Buhrer

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“But how can one regret what, to the mind, has never existed? Even loss is an inaccurate description, for what loss is without the awareness of losing?” – Nicole Krauss 

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Reflections or shadows briefly stand,

Together as soulmates, us two

Lovers.

——

Your illusion captivates,

Your splendour resilient,

Eyes bright.

——

Even mirror images,

Destain to show your glory told, 

Goddess.

——

Knew you once as a child laughing bold,

Called you names and pulled your hair,

Cute girl.

——-

You’ve grown and you’ve changed,

Hair black and sweeping, shoulder length,

Glossy.

—–

Green eyes telling a story of —

Smiling lips, straightened teeth gleaming

Perfect.

—–

Stubborn chin, lovely breasts rising,

Fluted waist, lush body, legs —

Stellar.

—-

Curves run imagination wild and I, 

Stare, hopeful to hear your lilting voice —

Whisper. 

*****

I examine our reflections,

How strange you hate your beloved —

Husband.

—–

Caring for you as Alzheimers, 

Steals your lifememories; you’re —

Forty-nine.

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Synchronicity Poetry — A type of poem with events simultaneously related. The last two stanzas reveal a twist and the syllable count for each stanza is 8, 8, 2. 

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 22 – Blitz Poem – “Chances Anew” #amwriting #poetry


Day 22 Prompt: Dangerous
“Some things are obviously dangerous, like walking too close to a cliff, and other things, not so much. Free write for ten minutes exploring what is obviously dangerous, not so much, and what dangerous means to you. You could turn this into a rant poem, especially given the times.”

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http://www.getaway2thegods.com

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There is always present danger

There is always a need for caution

Caution is necessary 

Caution keeps us alive

Alive isn’t enough

Alive means we need to be safe

Safe is a cloudy dream

Safe is an illusion

Illusions we love because they hide cold hard facts

Illusions keep us content

Content is all we can ask to be 

Content not to be in danger

Danger hides and danger runs

Danger is wicked and tricky

Tricky because danger is not not upfront

Tricky because danger bides its time

Time waiting to harm us 

Time waiting to strike and destroy

Destroying lives with vengeance

Destroying hearts with humourless mirth

Mirth –does it exist in harsh circumstances? 

Mirth is it possible when tomorrow could be–

Be the end of life’s dreams? 

Be the end of life without heart sight? 

Sight to see the world shatter as glass

Sight to see how lost we are in the world 

World where we wander feeling hopeless

World where we’re crushed by despair 

Despair slips in and brings us to tears

Despair is a weapon danger employes

Employes to target are last reserves

Employes as those serving him as soldiers

Soldiers, mercenaries, to do the bloody work

Soldiers blinded by their own greed

Greed for money until it’s set a flame

Greed for money, not seeing  –it’s only paper

Paper, the German Mark in the 1930’s, in suitcases 

Paper marks, thousands were worthless

Worthlessness, don’t ever feel unwanted

Worthful, you’re as precious stones

Stones judgemental people throw

Stoning the accused sinner

Sinners we all are, it can’t be helped

Sinner –let he with the least sin cast the stone first 

 First you must smile and gather your hope

First be glad, life has new beginnings

Beginnings are new chances 

Beginnings are for real, life arises anew

Chances . . . 

Anew. . . 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Ghazal -“Newest Illusion”


A Ghazal is a poem that is made up like an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that precedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.

Please see Shadow Poetry for further information.

To explain this definition in my poem, ‘illusion’ is my repeating refrain and the word ‘trusting’ is the inline rhyme word that I’m working with in my poem for line A.

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face_black_and_white_optical_illusion
http://www.coolweirdo.com

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Mirage of sensations, not trusting your illusion.

Letting go, letting you in — difficult, just an illusion,

Words swimming in my mind, creatures of the depths in flight,

Begun ‘us,’ place my heart in your hands — I must; illusion.

Images of red, colour offends me from my past life,

Wobbly bridge, cross to you or stuck, you an illusion.

Travelling wisps in the darkness they kiss, ghostly mist.

Implies, in my dreams, I have to risk, not just illusions.

Fantasy helps me escape you’re real, you’re here.

Thoughts unravel typing, wonder must I see illusion?

Confusion alludes to facts, can’t trust my own heart beating so fast.

Around you I find, feeling lust I conclude, you’re illusion.

Days will pass, yesterday is past, don’t relax yet, sublimity.

Thunderstorm forming, anger conforms, rusty old illusion.

Moments they hinder, life from lingering as you drift on by,

Would you be my shelter, find in me hope and trust — illusion.

Our minds whirl, spin, all over the place, seeking a resting place.

Need you to be my peaceful place in life, not just illusion.

Wrapped in your arms, haven of warmth, hearts beating as one,

Didn’t know, what I know now, you’re a must, no illusion.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem: Etheree – “Wide-Eyed.”


The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Get creative and write an Etheree with more than one verse, but follow suit with an inverted syllable count.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information on Etherees.

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http://www.shutterstock.com
 
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Look,

Wide eyes,

See the glare,

Mesmerized,

Sea salt tastes  — warm air,

What’s  forbidden, hidden,

And thoughts consume illusion.

Enter wide-eyed into the valley reside,

All you envisage in the storming,

Flames of falsehood overtakes all fathomed, burning.

—–

Chase the thought of memories, churning.

Life is bliss except when concern heeds,

Warning’s powerfully thrall.

Eyes with wisdom; embrace and see,

 Before judgement they follow,

Words the mind made hollow,

Significance points,

Persuaded now,

Of the fall.

Make this,

Right. 

.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: “Passed Out“


There is a place where I can’t do well enough or try hard enough. My body goes into survival mode and I need to sleep to deal.

I cannot do anything, when lethargy takes me over and I have only thoughts of comfort and rest.

I wake awhile later, hopefully restored. But days of feeling great, always take their tole.

I try to fight the sleepiness but I know my body will not be well and my mind will not make sense, until I have rested ;however, long my body needs.

It is an annoying problem to be held back by a body and mind that have been chipped a bit; when bad things have happened to make the neurons clouded and send the wrong messages in my brain.

Sleep is tied into energy, and energy tied into feeling fatigued. It’s a curious matter I have learned to live with but find difficult on dark afternoons such as this, when the the outside is pitch black at 5:oo pm

But when I am full of energy, I never waste it. I am glad to have the time I’ve got and so I fill it with tasks and creativity. Time is such an illusion we always think we have more then we’ve got.

I’m sleeping late but staying up later, and writing aspects about life that matter. But burning both ends of the candlestick can result in a tired mind and body.

Maybe, you understand the feeling. But then maybe you don’t. I give what I can give. Then I pass out.

 

Writing 101:Day 13 – The Drug House


Prompt: Play with the word count. 

 

http://www.spiritvoyage.com
 
There is a house across the street where the people come back and forth, even at 4:00 a.m. In the day, a black truck sits infront of the house grumbling and rumbling making a horrible noise; the driver probably thinks his truck is cool. It runs forever sitting there, polluting the air.  It could be a house where the rooms are rented out or maybe some couple or family lives there. 

But there are always people arriving, leaving, and smoking. We wonder what else they do in this house. Do they sell drugs there?  Is their clientele the people coming and leaving? It would make sense with all the arrivals and departures, at all times day or night.

 While I wonder, I’m sure that I see a scruffy man on the coach do a line of cocain from a dirty coffee table. In the back people are smoking Marajana, I can smell it, it doesn’t bother me except that in this house it could be a ‘gateway’ drug. I wonder whose life is being ruined by the drugs these people are selling. 

But then again they could just be neighbours and I really haven’t seen anything weird going on; I’m just surmising and imagining the worst. My mind has slid to a place where I’m judging these people and I’m expecting criminal activity. Better shut the curtains.