Black Out Prompt: Poem – Black Out – ” Not Roses” #amwriting #poetry #beauty #politics


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Black Out Prompt: 

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Credit: February 2017 INSTYLE Magazine

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Spring collection first shown, standout trends captivate. 

Pretty pink dresses, bandeau tops [are] proposed by influential, 

Femininity, classic ladylike variety reflected, underlying desire.

Creative support for the power and rights [of women], 

At a critical moment, clothes mirror complexity and chaos.

[A] new creative pointed statement, paying tribute, 

[Reminding us] attend the collection, printed with a line —

[It] leans [to] the left, favor[ing us] suffragettes. 

Explicit in making politics known, a reaction to unsettling results, 

 [Women and] fashion imagined entering a [new] season, 

Clothing playing [an] unexpected role, [our] viewpoints, [what] the world wears —

Becomes a political act. 

Interpretation, construeing message of inclusion, 

[There’s an] intention to celebrate women, 

We can all agree, [we need] be attentive and open to the world, to our creativity

[It] reflects our desiresembracing the imagery of strong, 

[What we wear is a] universal language women embrace. 

 [Your] engagement [demonstrates] how perceptions can change, 

Judged the same, we don’t assume shallow or [too] serious. 

Imagine in the coming years [unyielding] support, consider —

A contrary affect; [our] standards represent [our] enormous role. 

Perceive beauty’s responsibility taken seriously, 

Heartening to see interest in lives, so moved [knowing] —

We’re more and [moving forward with all] pioneering women, 

We’re not [merely] roses. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem – Free Verse (Audio) – “Just Ask” #amwriting #poetry #audio



Credit: http://www.pinterest.com

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You might not understand, 
I don’t know how to say, 

It hurts when I’m not invited, 

When you forget me anyways. 
I know I’m quiet, 

I know I’m ill,

I know transportation can be difficult, 

But often, I can work it out. 

I’d rather you ask, 

Than just assume, 

I can’t make it, 

Or attend at all, 

I’d rather you said something

Than nothing at all. 

Instead I see photographs. 

And I was never involved. 

Most times this doesn’t bother me, 

Only when it happens, 

More and more. 

When I see, 

Many friends and acquaintances, 

I had no idea at all. 

I don’t think it’s selfish

For me to say ask. 

I just want to be involved, 

To see my friends and others too. 

To have a social life, 

Not to be judged

Deemed boring or not thought about. 

It hits a place inside me, 

Where I feel disappointed, 

I feel a bit destroyed. 

Do I disappear from your minds so readily? 

That you didn’t even think to ask, 

Even if it’s last minute. 

Even if you thought I wouldn’t go, 

You should’ve given me the choice

Cause it really feels–

You don’t think of me much. 

As if I’m a problem too big to deal with, 

Like I ruin the fun. 

Your good time. 

It’s not fair —

But such is life, 

Because I’m chronically broken, 

I’m not my fun-self anymore. 

I’m just me, 

And I thought we were friends, 

But that means, 

Now and again, 

Think about me. 

Let me come along, 

Even if you think I’ll say no. 

It might surprise you, 

I’m coping well. 

Put yourself in my place. 

But I’ve learned the hard way, 

To never expect. 

Because if you count on people, 

A great many of them, 

They let you down. 

Caught up in their own lives;

BFF’s aren’t always forever, 

And sometimes I hate, 

Feeling alone, 

I’d rather you asked, 

Then assumed

I wasn’t able to go. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction/Poem: Prose Poetry – “Screened in Darkness” #introtopoetry #fiction #prosepoetry 


The Poetry 101 prompt is a screen of any kind using enjambment. I’m also incorporating a word from The Daily Post, Darkness.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Behind the screen I keep myself veiled, a Japanese screen with paper too thin and I keep on wondering if he’ll look, wishing Luke wouldn’t because I know I’ll be doing the walk of shame back home. And I don’t know why but I’m so ashamed, the wine went to my head last night; I knew better. Luke was attractive, he was kind; for a moment I thought he cared more about me than a few statistics and few words; but this morning, Luke left his house empty but for his cleaning lady and cook who made me crepes and said, “You need to get ready to go home. Mr. Luke doesn’t like his lady friends to be at his home if he decides to drop by at lunch to take the dog out for a run especially.” I didn’t understand why Luke was screening me, why I awoke from euphoria to a cold empty bed; the hand stroking my cheek in the night wanted only one thing, and didn’t want it from me again though Luke and I had been friends before. There was no text message, no note, and I wondered if I would see Luke again. No doubt, he’d try to avoid my favourite hangouts from now on, he knew most of them. But I didn’t get why I felt so exposed that morning getting dressed. We’d been naked all night but when I woke up and Luke saw me; I felt judged. Judged by the bite marks, the bruising, my careful movements. Luke gazed at me grinning, when I hid behind that Japanese screen to dress after my shower. “It’s no use to hide behind the screen Katie. I can see right through it in the morning light. Come back to bed . . .” So back to Luke I went though sorely overused, and when I fell asleep he was gone and I was alone; Luke’s pillow was cold. I wish I’d screened him better, I wish it was him who was exposed and not me. He hides all his secrets in the dark, he thrives in its opaqueness. The darkness lets him treat women how he does, another notch in a metaphorical bedpost. Walking home, I felt empty, caught in Luke’s darkness, as if I had wasted so much time and conversation, in the end only to be screened, told I wasn’t right for the position. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Story Continuation Prompt: Flash Fiction – Judged


Thanks to Wandering Soul for hosting this prompt challenge. This week’s challenge is up to a 500 word piece of writing with the beginning sentence: “The delicious aroma of the freshly baked croissants wafted through the near-empty café.”

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The delicious aroma of the freshly baked croissants wafted through the near-empty Cafe. It was Sunday morning around 9:00 am and the majority of people weren’t up this early. Many church services did not begin until 10:00 or 10:30 am. Giselle thought about her home church while eating a buttery croissant and drinking a cappuccino.

She hadn’t been to church in a while. It wasn’t because she stopped believing in God or his son Jesus. It didn’t mean she didn’t have a few Christian friends or that she didn’t miss some of the people she grew up with in church.

Other issues were at work in Giselle’s life and a place which had always felt peaceful and inviting to her, became a place full of judgement. There was no forgiveness to be found in her old church and Giselle felt heavy hearted. People she had fondly thought of as Aunties and Uncles growing up, now gazed upon her with severe disapproval. 

Giselle believed it was God’s right alone to judge a person’s sins. Other Christians in her life could guide her and warn her of where her actions might lead, but she didn’t deserve hatred from them, to be the subject of gossip. Her best friend Ivy especially, had turned on Giselle.

Giselle had read a meme on the internet that read: “Thou Shall Not Judge Because Thou Has F$&#%d Up Too.” It was pertinent. When Giselle admitted to Ivy she had been attacked and raped by a stranger in an alley one night, Ivy had given her a stunned stare. 

“Are you sure?” Ivy had asked, then later told her parents and other church members Ivy ran into. Giselle had told Ivy she was pregnant with the rapist’s child. Rumours and gossip spread. Ivy, her family, and many other church members thought Giselle was having an abortion when she was admitted into hospital. 

The reality was Giselle’s pregnancy had failed; the tiny baby growing within Giselle had died. A doctor informed Giselle there had been complications. She could never have a child again. 

An elderly man at church had told Giselle, “You sew what you reap,” when he had heard the gossip Ivy had spread about Giselle having an abortion.

Giselle was suffering inside and some of her best friends were ‘outing her.’ The only people who knew and believed the truth were Giselle’s family and they were judged harshly for supporting Giselle.

She attended her home church for the last time that Sunday, enduring cat-like behaviour from the women and men who told her she should be ashamed. Shouldn’t they be helping her and ‘lifting her up?’ Did they no longer care about her? 

Giselle thought it ironic her church wondered why Christains were not attending church. Couldn’t they see, the world had become a kinder place than their church? That Jesus’ light was brighter out among strangers? People Giselle had known and trusted all her life had become like ‘a den of vipers.’

Looking up one last time at the cross and steeple of the church Giselle had called home, she left her church for good; Giselle had hope she would find a kinder church someday.

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Note: There are great Christian churches with kind and understanding people attending them. They are good neighbours who through God, help people like Giselle heal. This story is fictional and hopefully, a worst case scenario.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Wrapped Refrain – “What Made You Feel?”


 

http://www.hercampus.com
 
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What made you feel indifferent?

Maybe, prayers fell, deaf ears sent.

Was there a past you couldn’t conceal?

Pieces of you broken that wouldn’t seal.

Is it virtuous, living disguised, behind those lies?

Tattered rags of curtains, not letting light revise.

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Weren’t you appreciated?

Your daily deeds not compensated.

There is no authenticity,

Sense of responsibility.

Creating patterns of actions you keep rueing.

Never stopping, thinking of your undoing.

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Head pounding with aches and much pain.

A serenade of that refrain.

In life, trying to give back something real,

Searching for options to make ‘heart’ feel.

Dragging baggage with these hollow truths you lived,

Praying profoundly, learning each day to forgive.

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Opposing what’s not genuine,

Who are we to judge the refined,

Potters clay, our maker so formed,

Knowing perfectly His shape born.

Creations designed to honour and befriend, to share —

What made you feel? I remembered to care.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.